HOW THE DE VIVAR FAMILY RECEIVED LETTERS FROM THE KING, DON FERNANDO

A few days after the events which we have related in preceding chapters, Diego Lainez and his family, including Rodrigo, were seated at table in the castle of Vivar. All were in good spirits, all were eating with excellent appetites, except the last-mentioned, who in vain endeavoured to take part in the general joyousness; but the smile departed suddenly from his lips, as if there came to drive it away some sad memories, which the most trivial phrases of those present seemed to awake in his soul.

Teresa, who was observing her son, saw his inquietude and sadness, and from that moment she shared them with him; for the feelings of a son reflect themselves in a mother, especially when she is as good as the mother of Rodrigo was.

"My son," she said to the youth, who was then buried in thought, "why are you so sad when we all have such reason to be joyous, especially you, who have washed off the blot that stained our honour? What is the cause of your sadness?"

"Mother," replied Rodrigo, "have you not heard that Casilda, the solitary of the lake of San Vicente, shares her home with a noble maiden who also has gone to bury herself in that solitary place?"

"Yes."

"That maiden is Ximena Gome."

"Let her then, my son, weep in solitude over the perfidy of her father, let her consecrate some of her days to God, and to the care of the poor invalids who resort to the lake to seek their health, for grief finds its first consolations in God and in those who suffer. If she loves you still, of which I have no doubt, her grief will pass away, and her love will remain; for true love is eternal, and grief, no matter how deep, is transitory."

"Do you believe, my mother, that Ximena can love the slayer of her father?"

"Yes, my son, for in killing her father you gave another proof of your noble character, and Ximena herself would have abhorred you if she saw you regard with indifference the stain which her father had cast on the honour of yours."

"Do you not know that, before she quitted the court, she demanded vengeance against me from the king, supposing that I had wrongfully killed her father?"

"Yes," interposed Diego Lainez, who until then did not wish to interrupt the conversation between his wife and son; "and such is the duty of every daughter. The king, however, is too wise and just to believe such a thing, and to punish one who not only committed no offence, but rather added fresh lustre to his honour."

"Notwithstanding, my father, I fear that the king is much displeased with us, for the question regarding Calahorra is now the foremost one, and he has not asked your advice, as he always was in the habit of doing in similar cases."

Just as Rodrigo said this, a servant entered, announcing the arrival of a messenger from the king, from whom he brought letters for Diego Lainez and Rodrigo.

A perceptible uneasiness came upon the countenance of Diego, as well as on those of his wife and son. A moment afterwards the old man was reading a sheet of parchment, upon which was the royal seal, and the young man was reading a similar one. This is what the first contained:—

"Much honoured Diego Lainez, the King of Leon and Castile salutes you, whom he loves the most of all his subjects. Know that we await you impatiently in our Alcazar, for it is our wish that you should devote your wisdom and prudence to the education of the princes, our sons, as we informed you but a short time ago, in the presence of the cavaliers of our court. Pay attention to your health till it is quite restored from the injury which the wounds made on your honour must have caused it, and as those have been healed, receive the congratulations which, on that account, we offer you.—The King."

The second letter, directed to Rodrigo, was conceived in the following terms:—

"To you, Rodrigo Diaz, a good son as well as a good knight, the king sends his greetings; be it known to you that the King of Aragon disputes with us the possession of Calahorra, alleging injustice on the part of the king our father, who made it over to us of his own good will, when God was pleased to call him to Himself. And as we have agreed to confide the decision of the dispute to the valour of two cavaliers, one to be named by us, and the other by the King of Aragon, it is our will that you shall be he who is to defend our rights, combating with Martin Gonzalez, who has been appointed to defend those which Don Ramiro claims to possess. You have given proof of being an honourable and valiant knight, by slaying De Gormaz to avenge the insult offered to your father's and to your honour, and we doubt not but that the enterprise, which we confide to you, shall come to a successful issue.—The King."

"Martin Gonzalez," exclaimed Rodrigo, trembling with joy, "is then the champion of Aragon! Father, Calahorra shall remain to Don Fernando, and I shall have another claim on Ximena for her love. Let God put me front to front with Martin Gonzalez, in order that my sword may cause to bite the dust the only man I hate in this world, now that De Gormaz is dead—a man whom Ximena also abhors."

"Yes, my son," replied Diego, participating in the delight of his son, both on account of the honours which both of them had received from the king, and the enterprise which had been entrusted to Rodrigo, in which he was likely to gain still further glory. "Yes, you shall fight for your king and for your love, and you shall conquer; do not doubt of it, Rodrigo. To-morrow we shall return to the court, where happier days await us than those which we recently experienced in it."

Thus speaking, both parents embraced their son, for Teresa also shared in the satisfaction of her husband and Rodrigo. The latter, indeed, was about to engage in a fight in which one of the combatants was almost certain to lose his life, but Teresa trusted in the valour of her son, and at that period the sentiment of honour was superior to all affections, to all fears, to all interests. Then the mother who most loved her son was the very one who most ardently desired to see him engaged in some honourable and hazardous enterprise, even though the chances of gaining honour were less than those of losing life.

The reader, who doubtless remembers the interview between Ximena and Rodrigo in the halls of the Alcazar, will also remember the fears which both of them entertained, that Don Gome might bestow the hand of his daughter on another man. Let us see if such fears were well founded.

Before the battle of Atapuerca, and when enmity was commencing between Diego Lainez and Don Gome, the latter was sent to the court of Aragon, in reality as the ambassador of Don Fernando, but he imagined that it was a kind of exile, brought about by the artifices of De Vivar. Martin Gonzalez, who was one of the most powerful grandees of Aragon, gave him hospitality in his mansion, and entertained him magnificently, apparently for no reason but to return the marks of friendship which he had received from the count, some time before, at Gormaz, where he had been at the celebration of a tournament, in which were engaged both Castilian and Aragonian knights. Martin then saw Ximena, and was charmed with her beauty and prudence; but he did not demand her hand, believing that it would not be accorded to him, as he was aware that it had been promised to Rodrigo. However, whilst Don Gome was enjoying his hospitality, Martin Gonzalez discovered the recent bitter feelings which he entertained towards De Vivar, and he believed that the time had arrived for winning what he so ardently desired. He fanned the flames of discord between Diego Lainez and Don Gome, strengthening by means of calumny the belief which the latter entertained, that he owed his disfavour at the court to the artifices of De Vivar. Then, when he had sufficiently worked on the mind of Don Gome, he asked him for the hand of Ximena, which was granted, on condition, however, that she should be in no way forced to grant it against her will, for, with all his faults, De Gormaz, as we have said before, loved his daughter, and, although he had then resolved that she should not marry Rodrigo, he did not intend that she should become the wife of another, except with her own free consent. These infamous schemes, which were the principal causes of the division between the two families, were known to Ximena and to Rodrigo, and that is why they both entertained a deep hatred towards Martin Gonzalez, and certainly that hatred was legitimate and just.

We do not wish to leave the castle of Vivar without knowing the condition of affairs between the squire and his two sweethearts, for which reason we shall enter a chamber, which must be that of Fernan, for he is in it, and a lance and other instruments belonging to his profession are suspended on its walls.

The valiant squire must be in very low spirits, for when he is not so he talks, when in company, as much as four, or if alone, sings ballads of love or chivalry; but now he is silent, with his head bent down, as if buried in deep and disagreeable thought. Another servitor, however, enters the apartment, and from his words we shall perchance learn something of that which we desire to know.

"On my soul," said the page, for such he was, "you are now just as much what you used to be as I am a bishop. What are you doing with your head sunk on your breast, and so miserable, when such glad news has come to our lords and masters?"

"Tell me, then, Alvar, what news have come?"

"I will tell you willingly as much as I know. I swear that the tidings must be good—and so good that my masters gave the messengers who brought them presents so valuable, that if they are not worth at least more than a hundred ounces of good silver, may the saints forsake me at the hour of my death!"

"But will you not tell me, accursed chatterer that you are, what the news is which the messenger has brought?"

"Yes, Fernan, I will, and I am just coming to it. But what good has it done you to visit so often the witch of the torrent, if you have not yet learned to know things beforehand, an art in which people say she excels?"

"I vow by Judas Iscariot that I'll throw you out of the window if you don't cease talking such nonsense, and get out of this at once."

Alvar stepped backwards on seeing the threatening gesture of the impatient squire, for he knew that it was the habit of Fernan to accompany his words with acts, to which his ribs, almost broken more than once by the squire, could testify. As the reader has already perceived, the page was one of those young men who are so fond of circumlocutions that they go to the grain, as sparrows, through the straw. We have corresponding types in our own times, as may be often seen in meetings of Parliament, in which is often heard the cry, "To the grain, to the grain!" or "Question, question," which is the same thing.

Thanks, then, to the threats of Fernan, the page related, without any more roundabout expressions, what had brought the messenger of Don Fernando; adding, as we already know, that both Diego and Rodrigo had decided to set out for the court on the following day.

"I am much pleased to hear that," said Fernan, "for my life at Vivar is but a lingering death, since that ungrateful Mayorica repays my love with scratches and insults, and that vixen of an Aldonza shuts the door in my face."

"Then you love them, Fernan?" said the page, much surprised.

"And I must love them, I fear, in spite of the fact that they treat me worse than a captive Moor."

"By the soul of my grandfather, he who goes on in that way deserves a hundred lashes. Oh, how vain are the intentions of lovers! Why don't you swear, you unfortunate man, that as long as you live you'll have nothing more to do with women?"

"What do you desire, Alvar? Man proposes and woman disposes. I was born with such weaknesses, and I fear that I shall die with them."

"Conquer these inclinations of yours, Fernan."

"It's not easy to do that. However, I swear to you, friend Alvar, that my eyes are opened with regard to the fair sex, and I'll do my best to be done with them from this time forward."

"If you don't do so soon, I tell you again, as I have already said, that you will deserve a hundred good lashes."

"It is easily seen, Alvar, that you have no heart. You never knew, and don't know now, what love is."

"Alas!" said the page, heaving a deep sigh; "I know it but too well, friend Fernan. If we carried our hearts on our foreheads, you would see mine, and it would move you to compassion."

"By Judas Iscariot! what do you tell me, friend Alvar? You in love?"

"Don't be surprised, Fernan, for one should be made of stone not to fall in love with the tyrannical and gentle maiden for whom I sigh."

"Tell me, who is this sovereign beauty?"

"Yes, I will tell you, Fernan. You and your master brought her to Vivar"—

"Explain quickly what you mean!" exclaimed the squire, becoming suddenly very angry again.

"I tell you," hastened to answer Alvar, fearing the look of Fernan, "that Beatrice, the maiden whom you and Don Rodrigo rescued at the inn, has me almost dead with love."

"You will soon be dead by my hands!" cried the squire, rushing at the page and furiously seizing him by the throat. "What is that you dare to say, ill-born lout? You in love with Beatrice! you dare to place your eyes where I have fixed mine!"

"Fernan, Fernan, let me loose! you are choking me with your hands of iron! If I had known that you were in love with her, I should have had no more thought of loving her than of turning Moor."

Fernan let go the page, feeling convinced that he had set his eyes on Beatrice, not knowing that doing so would offend him.

"Yes, I love her," said the squire; "and, except my master, no one has any right to interfere with me, for my lance made the fellows that were carrying her off bite the dust. Although up to the present she has showed herself insensible to my prayers, she shall learn how worthy I am of serving her, and will yield to me, so that I may requite myself for the cruelty of Mayorica."

The page found it hard to give up the conquest of the maiden who had been rescued from Don Suero, but he found the hands of Fernan harder; for that reason he promised him solemnly that he would not expose himself again to his anger by paying attentions to Beatrice. The thrice enamoured squire was satisfied with this, and both continued to converse amiably, when they heard some persons exclaim in an adjacent room—

"Father!"

"Daughter of my soul!"

To these exclamations followed sobs and repeated kisses.

The page and the squire proceeded thither, and found Beatrice in the arms of a peasant, advanced in years.

It was the father of the maiden, who had been informed that she was in the castle of Vivar, and who had not come sooner to clasp her in his arms for the reason which his own words will explain.

"My daughter, how were you rescued from that accursed Don Suero? How is it that I find you here?" asked the elderly man; and she began immediately to inform him of what had happened since she had been torn from his side.

The poor farmer shed tears of gratitude on learning the protection that had been given to his child by Rodrigo and the other inmates of the castle.

"Ah," he exclaimed, "God will bless those who have restored a daughter to her father; God will protect the good cavalier who drew his sword in defence of the oppressed, and for the punishment of a wicked tyrant."

But as Beatrice was impatient to learn what had happened to those who were her companions when returning from the pilgrimage, and what had taken place afterwards at Carrion, her father hastened to relieve her uneasiness and anxiety.

"The father of Martin," he said, "was killed by a stab which he received in the horrible fight from one of the retainers of Don Suero. Martin embraced his dead body and cried out, weeping—

"'Father, father! your son will avenge you!'

"He then turned to your mother and to me, and added, 'Your daughter shall also be avenged; I swear it by the love I always had for her, and by the salvation of my father's soul.' He then disappeared, and no one since then has learned where he is."

"But was he wounded?" asked Beatrice anxiously.

"No, my daughter," replied her father.

And the girl murmured in a low tone—

"I thank thee, O my God! I am still worthy of him—I trust in his love."

These words were a dagger-blow to Fernan, who doubtless believed that the lover of Beatrice had fallen in the combat, and that the maiden had already forgotten him. It was little less for Alvar, who, although he had promised the squire to renounce his pretensions to the love of Beatrice, still nursed the idea of following them on, acting prudently behind the back of the squire. Thus it was that they looked at each other gloomily, and, with a certain kind of despair, Fernan said to the page—

"It appears to me, friend Alvar, that we fail in courtesy and good manners, listening to conversations which do not concern us."

"Certainly," replied Alvar.

And although Beatrice and her father told them that they did not inconvenience them in the slightest, each one retired in a different direction, Fernan muttering—

"Ungrateful, ungrateful women! The more one loves them the worse is he treated. But I, curse me! am myself the cause of the misfortunes which have come upon me, for I have enraged Mayorica, looking out for too much love. There are certainly more than two women in Spain for each man, and I swear by the soul of Beelzebub that I am right in my calculation; but as women are so stupid that they won't listen to reason, why should I not resign myself to their foolishness, and enjoy the love of one of them. Well, then, from this day forward I shall devote myself heart and soul to Mayorica, and let the others see what a treasure of love they have lost in me. Mayorica is fierce when I annoy her, but kind and affectionate when I please her. Oh, Mayorica of my eyes! you shall not have to complain again of your lover, for if you guard your honour for him, he will do the same for you."

And Alvar—

"What a fool I was to fall in love, when I saw how things were going with Fernan. It is a sad thing to find the position occupied, when for the first time a man bestows his affections on a woman. They seem to be born provided with lovers, just as they are with arms and legs. O Lord, what a blessing it would be to men if you had created them without hearts!"

The old man continued—

"We arrived at Carrion, and on the following day your mother was stricken down with an illness which nearly cost her her life. She called out for you in her delirium, and she could not be consoled. Then the news of your safety arrived, and her health improved so much that I was able to leave her to come to you."

"Let us set out at once, father, for I must return to my mother. No danger threatens me at Carrion, for the sword of my deliverer deprived the count of life."

"It deprived him of his prey, my daughter, but not of his life, for Don Suero returned to his castle the next day, and has recovered from his wounds, which he says he received fighting with a band of robbers."

"Then what shall we do, father?" exclaimed Beatrice; "what shall we do to protect you and my mother from his anger, for having thwarted his criminal intentions, and to protect me from a fresh attempt on his part? But, ah! do not be uneasy, father, go and bring hither my mother; let us fly from the estates of the count. I am certain that the generous and noble family, to whom we owe our safety, will give us a small piece of ground to farm, a humble refuge, in which we shall be able to enjoy a tranquil life, and show our gratitude to, and bless our benefactors every day."

Beatrice was not wrong in trusting to the generosity of the lord and lady of Vivar. A few days after, she and her parents were installed, content and happy, in a small farmhouse, situated at a short distance from the castle, surrounded by fields which Pero Lopez, for such was the name of the girl's father, was ploughing with a pair of mules which, a short time before, had been feeding in the stables of Diego Lainez.