TRAITOROUS MESSAGE OF COUNT JULIAN.
Taric ben Zeyad had been surprised by the valour of the Christian
cavaliers in the recent battles, and at the number and apparent devotion
of the troops which accompanied the king to the field. The confident
defiance of Don Roderick increased his surprise. When the herald had
retired, he turned an eye of suspicion on Count Julian. “Thou hast
represented thy countrymen,” said he, “as sunk in effeminacy and lost
to all generous impulse: yet I find them fighting with the courage and
the strength of lions. Thou hast represented thy king as detested by
his subjects, and surrounded by secret treason, but I behold his tents
whitening the hills and dales, while thousands are hourly flocking to
his standard. Woe unto thee if thou hast dealt deceitfully with us, or
betrayed us with guileful words.”
Don Julian retired to his tent in great trouble of mind, and fear came
upon him that the Bishop Oppas might play him false; for it is the lot
of traitors ever to distrust each other. He called to him the same page
who had brought him the letter from Florinda, revealing the story of her
dishonour.
“Thou knowest, my trusty page,” said he, “that I have reared thee in my
household, and cherished thee above all thy companions. If thou hast
loyalty and affection for thy lord, now is the time to serve him. Hie
thee to the Christian camp, and find thy way to the tent of the Bishop
Oppas. If any one ask thee who thou art, tell them thou art of the
household of the bishop, and bearer of missives from Cordova. When thou
art admitted to the presence of the bishop, show him this ring, and he
will commune with thee in secret. Then tell him Count Julian greets him
as a brother, and demands how the wrongs of his daughter Florinda are
to be redressed. Mark well his reply, and bring it word for word. Have
thy lips closed, but thine eyes and ears open; and observe every thing of
note in the camp of the king. So speed thee on thy errand—away, away!”
The page hastened to saddle a Barbary steed, fleet as the wind, and of
a jet black colour, so as not to be easily discernible in the night. He
girded on a sword and dagger, slung an Arab bow with a quiver of arrows
at his side, and a buckler at his shoulder. Issuing out of the camp,
he sought the banks of the Guadalete, and proceeded silently along its
stream, which reflected the distant fires of the Christian camp. As he
passed by the place which had been the scene of the recent conflict, he
heard, from time to time, the groan of some expiring warrior who had
crawled among the reeds on the margin of the river; and sometimes his
steed stepped cautiously over the mangled bodies of the slain. The young
page was unused to the sights of war, and his heart beat quick within
him. He was hailed by the sentinels as he approached the Christian camp,
and, on giving the reply taught him by Count Julian, was conducted to the
tent of the Bishop Oppas.
The bishop had not yet retired to his couch. When he beheld the ring of
Count Julian, and heard the words of his message, he saw that the page
was one in whom he might confide. “Hasten back to thy lord,” said he,
“and tell him to have faith in me, and all shall go well. As yet I have
kept my troops out of the combat. They are all fresh, well armed, and
well appointed. The king has confided to myself, aided by the princes
Evan and Siseburto, the command of a wing of the army. To-morrow, at the
hour of noon, when both armies are in the heat of action, we will pass
over with our forces to the Moslems. But I claim the compact made with
Taric ben Zeyad, that my nephews be placed in dominion over Spain, and
tributary only to the Caliph of Damascus.” With this traitorous message
the page departed. He led his black steed by the bridle to present
less mark for observation, as he went stumbling along near the expiring
fires of the camp. On passing the last outpost, when the guards were
half slumbering on their arms, he was overheard and summoned, but leaped
lightly into the saddle and put spurs to his steed. An arrow whistled by
his ear, and two more stuck in the target which he had thrown upon his
back. The clatter of swift hoofs echoed behind him, but he had learnt of
the Arabs to fight and fly. Plucking a shaft from his quiver, and turning
and rising in the stirrups as his courser galloped at full speed, he
drew the arrow to the head and launched it at his pursuer. The twang of
the bow-string was followed by the crash of armour, and a deep groan, as
the horseman tumbled to the earth. The page pursued his course without
further molestation, and arrived at the Moslem camp before the break of
day.