The Cid--1037
Now we come upon a larger view, a more extended horizon of Old Court
Life, hitherto shut up in the pastoral city of Leon.
Don Fernando el Magno is king. He has transferred the Christian capital
to Burgos on succeeding to the states of Leon, Castile, and Galicia by
the death of his brother-in-law, Bernardo the Third, in right of his
wife, Doña Sancha.
_Succeeded_ is hardly the fit word, for Fernando actually slew Bernardo
in the battle of Tamara, clearing thus for himself the way; for
Bernardo’s sister Sancha was the last of the second line of the Gothic
kings descended from Pelayo.
From the time of Fernan Gonzales, Castile became a kingdom instead of a
county, as the Conde would have had it, only he died too soon; and
though still mixed up in continual battles with the Moors about
Saragossa, Toledo, Merida, Samego, and Badajos (each town and city a
small kingdom of its own), the greater part of the north-centre of Spain
belonged to the Christians, rough warriors for the most part and fond of
fighting, of little education, narrow-minded, poor, and rapacious. So
poor indeed and rapacious that they constantly served the Moors against
themselves as _condottieri_, or mercenaries, as is heard of later in
French and Italian wars.
Now the Moors might be cruel and bloodthirsty, but their crimes were
those of a highly civilised race, the very salt of the earth compared to
the Gothic Spaniards--only the Moors were falling gradually asunder by
reason of dissensions amongst the various races of which the nation was
composed.
So the Christians grew bold as the others waxed weak, and though
Fernando el Magno committed the folly of dividing his kingdom among his
five children, it all came together again under his unscrupulous
successor, Alonso el Valiente, sixth of that name (1173).
Fernando el Magno was out and out the most powerful king that had
reigned in Spain since the time of Roderich. He held an iron grip on the
Moors, with great cities tributary to him. In fact, it was only the
payment of heavy tribute which kept them in possession so long. Money
was money in those days, from whatever source it came, and in the
impoverished north there was little of it.
Fernando was a good king, according to his lights, upon whose conscience
the murder of his brother-in-law Bernardo lay lightly. Had he not slain
Bernardo, Bernardo would undoubtedly have killed him, in which case
royal murder comes under the head of self-defence. So he reigned
happily at Burgos, and had born to him a numerous family. Doña Urraca,
the Infanta, was his eldest child, a most excellent lady of good customs
and beauty, the Infante Don Sancho, who was to make much noise in the
world, was his heir, and Don Alonso and Don Garcia were his younger
sons.
Fernando put them all to read that they might gain understanding, and he
made his sons knights to carry arms and know how to demean themselves in
battle, also to be keen huntsmen. Doña Urraca was brought up in the
studies becoming dames, so that she might be instructed in devotion and
all things which it behoved an Infanta to know.
* * * * *
But there is one fact which makes the name of Fernando remembered to all
time, for in his reign was born at Burgos, Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar, known
as the famous _Capitán_, the Cid Campeador.
Beside the glittering vision of Santiago, the tutelary saint of Spain,
in white armour, waving celestial banners, rises the image of the Cid.
Encased in steel, he sits proudly astride on his good horse Babieca; a
close casque on his head, under which a pair of all-seeing eyes gaze
fiercely out, giving expression to the strongly marked features of a
thin long face, with wildly flying beard. His scimitar hangs at his
side, and at his waist, encircled by a leather thong, the formidable
sword “Tizona” he alone can wield. A loose white garment or kilt floats
out from under his armour, metal buskins are on his legs, and he is shod
in steel.
Thus he appears, with mighty action, an aureole of power about him not
to be put in words, “the Cid” or “Master”--the terror of the Moors, the
scourge of traitorous kings, marking an epoch, and a principle, lifting
him out of the confused chivalry of the Goths, and standing out clear
from shifting details into the light of day.
Cunning, astute, and valorous, implacable in conquest, sanguinary in
victory, he fought while he lived. A king in all but the name, and proud
of it, boasting with haughty scorn, “That none of his blood were royal”;
“That he had never possessed an acre,” “But that the city of Valencia
had pleased him, and that God had permitted him to take it as his own.”
“Spain,” he said, “had fallen by a Roderich, and by a Roderich it should
be restored.”
Now he was battling with the Christian king, then he was making alliance
with the Moors, when banished, on his own account--to his own advantage
ever--_por murzar_, as he said (to eat).
For in the midst of all his glory the Cid was practical at heart, and at
all times, be it owned, a sad ruffian (though ever tender to his own),
and more keen and cruel in a bargain than a Jew.