HOW THE BAND OF THE VENGADOR ATTACKED THE CASTLE OF CARRION

The band was advancing towards Carrion just at nightfall, in order to make the attack on it at the hour arranged by the leaders, of which attempt Don Suero had received notice, thanks to the treachery of Bellido.

The Castle of Carrion was built on an eminence near the town, beside a road, named at that period the Atalaya Road of Villasirga. Before arriving at it there was found a very thick wood. The night was dark, and for that reason the band could reach that wood without being seen by the sentinels. Martin and his captains, Bellido and Rui-Venablos, ordered a halt to be made in it, with the object of preparing for the attack without being perceived, even though the clouds might clear away and the moon shine forth.

The bandits, all on foot, were provided with steel hatchets, iron-shod clubs, and pikes, with which they might force an entrance into the castle. Martin had given orders to all not to strike down the count, Don Suero, as he wished to reserve to himself the consummation of the vengeance which he so ardently longed for; he wished to bury his dagger in the heart of the murderer of his father. The band was divided into two well-ordered companies; one was to rush on in order to force open the postern of the castle, and whilst this operation was being carried out, the other was to protect the attacking body, discharging their arrows against the loopholes and battlements of the fortress, in order that the crossbow-men who guarded them might be wounded, or, not seeing their opponents, might shoot at random. Rui-Venablos, who always considered the most dangerous position the best, asked permission to lead the attacking body, and Martin went with him. Bellido, therefore, commanded the other company.

Thus arranged, the bandits issued forth from the wood, and immediately the cry of alarm was given in the castle, and the defenders hastened to the combat.

Some of the bandits fell to the ground, pierced by the first arrows discharged from the fortress, and this circumstance increased the courage of the band. As the obscurity was very great, and as the ground behind the castle—that is, where the postern was situated—was covered with bushes, Bellido succeeded in separating himself from the men whom he was commanding, and in hiding behind some shrubs, where he remained until his companions all passed forward, discharging a cloud of arrows against the castle. Rui-Venablos, Martin, and their company at last succeeded in reaching the postern. This was strengthened outside with iron plates, on which the bandits began to deal terrible blows with their iron-covered clubs. It was not necessary to continue to do this long, as the door soon gave way, the bolts which kept it shut having, seemingly, been broken. Then the entire band rushed in, uttering fierce cries of fury and wild joy. It was, however, found necessary to force another door in order to get from the place where they were into the interior of the castle, and that door was even stronger than the outer one. Martin was furious when he met this new obstacle, just as he believed the moment had come to avenge himself on the count.

"Break it, burst open the door quickly!" he roared to those who were provided with clubs.

Those then began to discharge furious blows on the door, which did not yield in the least, for it was also well strengthened with iron outside, and securely fastened inside with thick bolts of the same metal. Impatience became a torture to the heart of the Vengador, and, taking a club from the hands of one of his men, he began to wield it with the strength of a giant against the door. At that moment a fearful blow was heard above the arched ceiling of the apartment in which they were, a blow which made the entire edifice tremble, a blow so terrible that it almost seemed as if the whole castle had crumbled down above their heads. All the bandits uttered a cry of terror, except Martin, who continued his assault on the door, for he only heard the voice of vengeance, which was commanding him to execute his on Don Suero, so terrible that he might expiate by it the innumerable crimes which he had committed.

"Out, out! the arch is falling!" cried all the bandits, precipitating themselves, in fearful disorder, towards the outer gate, for indeed the roof was yielding, the stones, as we know, having been loosened under the blow of the enormous weight which had fallen on them. At the same moment some person outside fastened strongly the postern-gate; but just then the second door yielded to the blows of Martin, and he, with Rui-Venablos, and about fifty of their men, rushed into the interior of the castle. The others tried to imitate them when they found that the postern-gate was closed against them, but they had not time, for the arched ceiling came down with a fearful noise, crushing the unfortunate bandits beneath its ruins. A satanic burst of laughter resounded then in the upper part of the castle, and a countenance, on which was depicted savage content, appeared, to gloat over that horrible butchery, at the hole which had been made in the upper floor, in order to suspend through it the heavy blocks of stone which were to fall on the top of the arch beneath.

The laughter had issued from the mouth of Don Suero, and his was the hellish countenance.

The count and the traitor, who had aided him in his work of extermination, did not know that several of the bandits had escaped without injury, and that the second door had yielded and given entrance to them. Soon, however, was this fact made known to Don Suero by the cries and the tumult which he heard in the principal apartments; cries and tumult which seemed to approach the chamber in which he was. Indeed, the Vengador, Rui-Venablos, and their followers, and almost all the armed men who guarded the castle, were fighting furiously in the corridors which led to the rooms usually occupied by Don Suero. Then the most abject terror took possession of the count, for he was as cowardly as he was tyrannical, cruel, and heartless; and running to a secret staircase, he descended into the vaults of the castle, and escaped from them, by a private door, into the open country.

The fight between the bandits and the defenders of the castle was bloody and obstinate. The latter, collected in one of the corridors which led to the apartments in which the De Carrion family resided, resisted the attack with valour equal to that of the bandits. The Vengador and Rui-Venablos, however, filled with fury on account of the destruction of their comrades, and of the resistance offered to them, resolved to make a final attempt, for they must either fight their way onward or die. They rushed, therefore, on their opponents, striking down all who barred the way, and their companions followed their example. Many remained dead or wounded in this bold attack; the others broke through the living wall which their enemies opposed to them, and dashed on, like hungry lions, to the apartments in which they expected to meet their prey. As they did not find him there, they uttered furious maledictions, which terrified even the soldiers who were defending the castle; they, wounded and discouraged, had dropped their weapons, and only hoped to find safety in flight. The bandits, having examined the apartments of the count, left them, believing that he had sought refuge in some other room, and they soon found one with the door locked. This was the chamber of Teresa. They tried to open it, but as it did not yield, the Vengador dealt it a terrible blow with his club, which caused it to fall in fragments on the floor. A young lady, the Infanta DoÑa Teresa, was standing in a corner, almost dead with terror, and before her stood Guillen, sword in hand, ready to defend the maiden.

"Stop!" cried the page to the bandits. "Hold back, for you shall only get near this lady when some of you have felt the edge of my sword, and when there will be no other shield to defend my mistress but my dead body."

Martin and Rui-Venablos halted; their companions, however, were about to rush on Guillen, but the Vengador prevented them, saying—

"Whichever of you advances a step to injure this young man or this maiden will fall dead at my feet; we do not desire to wreak our vengeance on a weak woman, or on him who defends her."

At the same time a great outcry was heard from the direction of the town. The Vengador looked through the window, which we have already described, and by the light of the moon, from which the clouds that had covered it had just passed away, he saw a numerous body of men approaching the castle. At the same time he heard the voice of Don Suero, who, seeing light in the window, was crying out—

"Defend yourselves, my crossbow-men; succour is coming."

The count had gone to seek reinforcement in the town, and his vassals hastened to give it, for he told them that DoÑa Teresa's life was in danger. More than two hundred men, of all ages, were advancing with him, armed with the weapons that first came to hand. The bandits were worn out with fatigue, and their number was reduced to little more than twenty. The Vengador knew that the death of all was certain if they did not at once leave the castle. If he had avenged his father he would have thought little of dying, but as he had not yet done so, life was precious to him.

"Let us escape," he cried, "or the count will succeed in killing all of us, and our comrades shall never be avenged. Do you hear those cries? Don Suero has managed to get out of the castle, and he is now returning with such force that his triumph is certain. Many of our comrades, who lie wounded in the passages through which we have come, must remain in his power, for we have not time to succour them and bring them off with us. They will be sacrificed by the barbarous count if we do not take hostages. We have this maiden in our power, and Don Suero will respect the lives of our comrades, in order that we may spare that of his sister."

"The sister of the Count of Carrion," said Guillen, continuing in his threatening attitude, "shall not remain exposed to your outrages whilst I am alive."

"I swear to you that she shall be respected," replied the Vengador, "but I must take measures to save the lives of my comrades. Sheath your sword, and come with her and with us, for if you seek to defend your mistress here you must die, and she will have no one by her side to see that the promise I make you will be kept."

Guillen felt that it was best to follow the advice of the leader of the bandits; he felt that it was necessary that Teresa should have someone by her to assist her if her strength failed, to console her when she wept, to guard her whilst she slept, to protect her if her honour was threatened. He therefore sheathed the sword which he had drawn to defend her, and, sustaining the feeble footsteps of his mistress, he went off with the bandits.

They all left the castle and penetrated into the adjacent wood, just as Don Suero and his vassals entered the fortress, which had been the theatre of such sanguinary scenes. They walked on for some hours by rough and deserted paths, for the bandits, now too few in number to face the Salvadores, feared to meet them. At last they halted in the thicket, which but a few hours before the band had left, full of strength, hope, and valour. During that fatiguing journey the strength of the unhappy Teresa had failed entirely several times, and Guillen was obliged to carry her for considerable distances in his arms, his love giving him force to bear that precious burden, in truth not so heavy as would have been almost any other woman, for Teresa was worn away by sadness and grief.

There still remained there the tents and the other things, which had been left to the care of a few of the bandits who had not been able to go with the others. The Vengador allotted one of those tents to the sole use of Teresa and the brave youth who accompanied her, and he and his comrades lay down in the others, half-dead with fatigue and discouragement, first having placed sentinels in the best positions for such, as they feared that Don Suero's men might have followed their tracks.

All the bandits were soon in a heavy sleep, except Martin and Rui-Venablos, on whom fatigue and grief seemed to have had an effect quite different from that which they exercised on their companions.

"Ah, poor Bellido!" said the former, "he must have found his tomb in the Castle of Carrion. We were fools not to have followed his example; we desired to act as cavaliers, forgetting that we were only bandits, and that we had to do with one of the most depraved and pitiless wretches that was ever born of woman. It is we who should have found our deaths in the castle, and not our loyal and brave comrades who have been the innocent victims of our stupidity. What have we to do now? Only to lament over our error, and the mishap of our companions."

"Anger of God!" exclaimed Rui-Venablos, irritated at the discouragement of Martin. "Does the Vengador become faint-hearted, and does he shed cowardly tears just when the moment has arrived to work with more firmness, with more bravery, and with less pity than ever? Can you avenge our comrades with tears, which suit women well enough, but which are quite out of place in a man; by killing the count I have to avenge our comrades, and something more"—

"I have to avenge our comrades, and something more also, by reducing to ashes the Castle of Carrion and plunging my dagger into the heart of the count," said Martin, excited by the words of Rui-Venablos.

"Thus do I like to see my chief!" exclaimed Rui, filled with savage joy.

"Do not call me by that name," said Martin, clasping the hand of his companion. "Call me brother, for from this day we shall begin to reorganise the band, and it shall have two chiefs. To prove to you how burning is the vengeance which consumes me, and how great is my friendship for you, I will confide a secret to you. Know, then, that I did not join the band of the Raposo in order to exercise the calling of a bandit, and that I did not continue such a life or take the name of the Vengador in order to avenge those who were slaughtered with the Raposo, but to avenge my father, who was vilely assassinated by the count."

Martin then related to Rui-Venablos all that had happened as they were returning from the pilgrimage, when Beatrice was carried off, adding—

"I have kept this secret from our comrades, in order that they might not mistrust me, knowing that I was working for an object different from theirs, and that I was only desirous of avenging an offence solely connected with myself."

"For the same reason," said Rui-Venablos joyously, "I have concealed the true cause of my rancour against Don Suero. You must know, brother, that I also did not embrace the life of a bandit through affection for it, for I always held a more honourable position. I have been a soldier since the down was on my lip, and I have always fought in defence of the faith, of my native land, and of the oppressed; and have never entered into the pay of any but honourable gentlemen. Being in the service of Don OrdoÑo de Lara, an unfortunate old man, quite blind, came to me one day and said, 'For a long time I have sought a man of kindly heart and with a strong arm, who might feel compassion for and avenge a wretched father, whom the Count of Carrion has deprived of his sight and of his honour.' He then related to me, with tears capable of softening stones, how Don Suero had carried off from him a daughter, who was his sole happiness in this world, depriving him at the same time of his eyesight, in order that he might not be able to find her or avenge so horrible a crime.

"'I have been told,' he added, 'that your aid has never been asked for in vain by those oppressed by the powerful, and therefore I come to you full of confidence.'

"His words moved me; I pitied his grief and his misfortunes; I was indignant at the baseness and cruelty of the count, whom I already regarded as an enemy, on account of other acts of a similar kind which had been related to me, and I swore solemnly to the poor blind man to avenge his wrongs. He then departed, full of satisfaction and of hope, to seek his daily sustenance through the country by singing to the accompaniment of his lute. When he had gone, I thought over the best means of keeping my promise to him; I knew that it would avail nothing to challenge Don Suero, as he would treat such a proceeding with contempt, the challenger being a poor and obscure soldier, and he one of the most powerful grandees of Castile and Leon. Should I seek to encounter him unexpectedly in some lonely place and force him to fight with me? That also would be unavailing, as Don Suero is always accompanied by armed men to defend him, and my death would have been but a useless sacrifice. Allies were necessary to me in order to attack the Castle of Carrion, and put the count to death, and as, just then, I heard your band talked of, it seemed to me that it would be the best instrument for the revenge I longed for; I therefore went to seek you, and I succeeded in gaining your confidence."

"Brother," said Martin, rejoiced at being able to call by such a name a man who was actuated by feelings identical with his own, and who would not have embraced the life of a bandit merely to live by plunder, "similar sentiments animate us; the goal for which we are striving is the same; our strength and courage are equal, wherewith to confront the difficulties which we may find in our way. Perhaps Bellido would have brought the same ambition to the band if he had been inspired by some noble sentiment."

"Comrade," said Rui-Venablos, "you are exceedingly simple, and by no means a good observer, if you imagine that any kind of noble sentiments are to be found in Bellido. He is dead, and it is just as well that he is. I do not like to speak badly of the dead, but nevertheless I say that he was very far from being an honourable man. Did you never observe his cruelty whenever we made an assault on a castle? Our attacks were always directed against tyrannical and evil-living grandees; was there not a vast difference between the way in which you and I treated the conquered, and the way in which Bellido treated them?"

"You are right, brother," replied Martin; "Bellido is dead, and there is another person, who is in great grief here near us, who is much more deserving of our compassion. I speak to you of DoÑa Teresa, of that unfortunate young lady, whom we have taken with us as a hostage. Her brother and she have always occupied the reversed positions of St. Michael and the devil: the devil held the angel beneath his feet. Yes, the angel, for she is as good and pure as the angels in heaven. That brave and faithful youth, who would not abandon her, will watch over her; but we also must guard her; yes, we must take good care of the innocent dove which has been snatched from the talons of the hawk, and who, nevertheless, weeps because she has been saved from them. Many of our comrades are lying in Carrion, covered with wounds, and it was but just that we should endeavour to save their lives, for the facts of their having been wounded and having shared our dangers are sufficient to make us pity them. We have threatened the count that we will take the life of his sister if he does not spare our comrades and give them their liberty, but if he is barbarous enough to sacrifice them—even in that case DoÑa Teresa shall return uninjured to Carrion."

"That is the very advice I intended to give you," said Rui-Venablos. "If all men were as generous and good as you are, the world would not be as it is. In what way, indeed, can that poor girl be responsible for the crimes of her brother? In the world, and especially in war, the just have often to suffer on account of sinners, but we must not be guided by so cruel a law. Certainly, the bandit, when he requires food, must take the bread of his neighbour, but there are plenty of neighbours who well deserve to die of hunger. We shall take the bread from them and leave it with good people."

"Yes," answered Martin, "and in that way, even though we are called by the name of bandits, our consciences will give us another name; our consciences will tell us that, when we were forced to choose between two bad roads, we took the better one."

"Do you think, brother, that it is prudent to remain here? We are too near Carrion, and Don Suero will endeavour to take advantage of our weakness."

"We must only keep on the alert, and not change our encampment for a safer one until those return who remained alive in the castle."

The day was beginning to dawn. Martin and Rui-Venablos knew that it was necessary to recruit their strength, worn out by fatigue and the emotions of that sanguinary night; they therefore stretched themselves on the ground, taking care that their weapons were within reach. A few minutes after they were sleeping soundly, and the silence which reigned in the camp of the bandits was only interrupted by a few words, mingled with sobs, which were heard from time to time in the tent occupied by Teresa and Guillen.