COUNT JULIAN.—HIS FORTUNES IN AFRICA.—HE HEARS OF THE DISHONOUR OF HIS
CHILD.—HIS CONDUCT THEREUPON.
The course of our legendary narration now returns to notice the
fortunes of Count Julian, after his departure from Toledo, to resume
his government on the coast of Barbary. He left the Countess Frandina
at Algeziras, his paternal domain, for the province under his command
was threatened with invasion. In fact, when he arrived at Ceuta he found
his post in imminent danger from the all-conquering Moslems. The Arabs
of the East, the followers of Mahomet, having subjugated several of the
most potent oriental kingdoms, had established their seat of empire
at Damascus, where, at this time, it was filled by Waled Almanzor,
surnamed “the Sword of God.” From thence the tide of Moslem conquest
had rolled on to the shores of the Atlantic; so that all Almagreb, or
Western Africa, had submitted to the standard of the prophet, with the
exception of a portion of Tingitania, lying along the straits; being
the province held by the Goths of Spain, and commanded by Count Julian.
The Arab invaders were a hundred thousand strong, most of them veteran
troops, seasoned in warfare and accustomed to victory. They were led by
an old Arab general, Muza ben Nosier, to whom was confided the government
of Almagreb; most of which he had himself conquered. The ambition of
this veteran was to make the Moslem conquest complete, by expelling the
Christians from the African shores; with this view his troops menaced the
few remaining Gothic fortresses of Tingitania, while he himself sat down
in person before the walls of Ceuta. The Arab chieftain had been rendered
confident by continual success, and thought nothing could resist his arms
and the sacred standard of the prophet. Impatient of the tedious delays
of a siege, he led his troops boldly against the rock-built towers of
Ceuta, and attempted to take the place by storm. The onset was fierce,
and the struggle desperate: the swarthy sons of the desert were light
and vigorous, and of fiery spirits; but the Goths, inured to danger on
this frontier, retained the stubborn valour of their race, so impaired
among their brethren in Spain. They were commanded, too, by one skilled
in warfare and ambitious of renown. After a vehement conflict, the Moslem
assailants were repulsed from all points, and driven from the walls. Don
Julian sallied forth, and harassed them in their retreat; and so severe
was the carnage, that the veteran Musa was fain to break up his camp, and
retire confounded from the siege.
The victory at Ceuta resounded throughout Tingitania, and spread
universal joy. On every side were heard shouts of exultation mingled with
praises of Count Julian. He was hailed by the people, wherever he went,
as their deliverer, and blessings were invoked upon his head. The heart
of Count Julian was lifted up, and his spirit swelled within him; but it
was with noble and virtuous pride, for he was conscious of having merited
the blessings of his country.
In the midst of his exultation, and while the rejoicings of the people
were yet sounding in his ears, the page arrived who bore the letter from
his unfortunate daughter.
“What tidings from the king?” said the count, as the page knelt before
him: “None, my lord,” replied the youth, “but I bear a letter sent in all
haste by the Lady Florinda.”
He took the letter from his bosom and presented it to his lord. As Count
Julian read it, his countenance darkened and fell. “This,” said he,
bitterly, “is my reward for serving a tyrant; and these are the honours
heaped on me by my country, while fighting its battles in a foreign land.
May evil overtake me, and infamy rest upon my name, if I cease until I
have full measure of revenge.”
Count Julian was vehement in his passions, and took no counsel in his
wrath. His spirit was haughty in the extreme, but destitute of true
magnanimity, and when once wounded turned to gall and venom. A dark and
malignant hatred entered into his soul, not only against Don Roderick,
but against all Spain: he looked upon it as the scene of his disgrace,
a land in which his family was dishonoured: and, in seeking to avenge
the wrongs he had suffered from his sovereign, he meditated against his
native country one of the blackest schemes of treason that ever entered
into the human heart.
The plan of Count Julian was to hurl King Roderick from his throne, and
to deliver all Spain into the hands of the infidels. In concerting and
executing this treacherous plot, it seemed as if his whole nature was
changed; every lofty and generous sentiment was stifled, and he stooped
to the meanest dissimulation. His first object was to extricate his
family from the power of the king, and to remove it from Spain before
his treason should be known; his next, to deprive the country of its
remaining means of defence against an invader.
With these dark purposes at heart, but with an open and serene
countenance, he crossed to Spain, and repaired to the court at Toledo.
Wherever he came he was hailed with acclamations as a victorious general,
and appeared in the presence of his sovereign radiant with the victory
at Ceuta. Concealing from King Roderick his knowledge of the outrage
upon his house, he professed nothing but the most devoted loyalty and
affection.
The king loaded him with favours; seeking to appease his own conscience
by heaping honours upon the father in atonement of the deadly wrong
inflicted upon his child. He regarded Count Julian, also, as a man able
and experienced in warfare, and took his advice in all matters relating
to the military affairs of the kingdom. The count magnified the dangers
that threatened the frontier under his command, and prevailed upon the
king to send thither the best horses and arms remaining from the time of
Witiza, there being no need of them in the centre of Spain in its present
tranquil state. The residue, at his suggestion, was stationed on the
frontiers of Gallia; so that the kingdom was left almost wholly without
defence against any sudden irruption from the south.
Having thus artfully arranged his plans, and all things being prepared
for his return to Africa, he obtained permission to withdraw his daughter
from the court, and leave her with her mother, the Countess Frandina,
who, he pretended, lay dangerously ill at Algeziras. Count Julian issued
out of the gate of the city, followed by a shining band of chosen
followers, while beside him, on a palfrey, rode the pale and weeping
Florinda. The populace hailed and blessed him as he passed, but his heart
turned from them with loathing. As he crossed the bridge of the Tagus,
he looked back with a dark brow upon Toledo, and raised his mailed hand
and shook it at the royal palace of King Roderick, which crested the
rocky height. “A father’s curse,” said he, “be upon thee and thine! May
desolation fall upon thy dwelling, and confusion and defeat upon thy
realm!”
In his journeyings through the country, he looked round him with a
malignant eye; the pipe of the shepherd, and the song of the husbandman,
were as discord to his soul; every sight and sound of human happiness
sickened him at heart, and, in the bitterness of his spirit, he prayed
that he might see the whole scene of prosperity laid waste with fire and
sword by the invader.
The story of domestic outrage and disgrace had already been made known
to the Countess Frandina. When the hapless Florinda came in presence of
her mother, she fell on her neck, and hid her face in her bosom, and
wept; but the countess shed never a tear, for she was a woman haughty
of spirit and strong of heart. She looked her husband sternly in the
face. “Perdition light upon thy head,” said she, “if thou submit to this
dishonour. For my own part, woman as I am, I will assemble the followers
of my house, nor rest until rivers of blood have washed away this stain.”
“Be satisfied,” replied the count; “vengeance is on foot, and will be
sure and ample.”
Being now in his own domains, surrounded by his relatives and friends,
Count Julian went on to complete his web of treason. In this he was aided
by his brother-in-law, Oppas, the bishop of Seville: a man dark and
perfidious as the night, but devout in demeanour, and smoothly plausible
in council. This artful prelate had contrived to work himself into the
entire confidence of the king, and had even prevailed upon him to permit
his nephews, Evan and Siseburto, the exiled sons of Witiza, to return
into Spain. They resided in Andalusia, and were now looked to as fit
instruments in the present traitorous conspiracy.
By the advice of the bishop, Count Julian called a secret meeting of his
relatives and adherents on a wild rocky mountain, not far from Consuegra,
and which still bears the Moorish appellation of “La Sierra de
Calderin,” or the mountain of treason.[14] When all were assembled, Count
Julian appeared among them, accompanied by the bishop and by the Countess
Frandina. Then gathering around him those who were of his blood and
kindred, he revealed the outrage that had been offered to their house. He
represented to them that Roderick was their legitimate enemy; that he had
dethroned Witiza, their relation, and had now stained the honour of one
of the most illustrious daughters of their line. The Countess Frandina
seconded his words. She was a woman majestic in person and eloquent of
tongue; and being inspired by a mother’s feelings, her speech aroused the
assembled cavaliers to fury.
The count took advantage of the excitement of the moment to unfold his
plan. The main object was to dethrone Don Roderick, and give the crown
to the sons of the late King Witiza. By this means they would visit
the sins of the tyrant upon his head, and, at the same time, restore
the regal honours to their line. For this purpose their own force would
be sufficient; but they might procure the aid of Muza ben Nosier, the
Arabian general, in Mauritania, who would no doubt gladly send a part of
his troops into Spain to assist in the enterprise.
The plot thus suggested by Count Julian received the unholy sanction of
Bishop Oppas, who engaged to aid it secretly with all his influence and
means: for he had great wealth and possessions, and many retainers. The
example of the reverend prelate determined all who might otherwise have
wavered, and they bound themselves by dreadful oaths to be true to the
conspiracy. Count Julian undertook to proceed to Africa, and seek the
camp of Muza, to negotiate for his aid, while the bishop was to keep
about the person of King Roderick, and lead him into the net prepared for
him.
All things being thus arranged, Count Julian gathered together his
treasure, and taking his wife and daughter and all his household,
abandoned the country he meant to betray; embarking at Malaga for Ceuta.
The gate in the wall of that city, through which they went forth,
continued for ages to bear the name of _Puerta de la Cava_, or the gate
of the harlot; for such was the opprobrious and unmerited appellation
bestowed by the Moors on the unhappy Florinda.[15]