WHAT HAPPENED TO RODRIGO ON THE ROAD TO COMPOSTELA

There could be seen in the palace of the lords of Vivar, at Burgos, great commotion amongst knights, squires, and pages, as if preparations were being made for a journey which was to immediately commence. At the gate of the palace stood several horses fully caparisoned, the number of which was increasing every moment, according as fresh cavaliers arrived, dismounted, and proceeded into the apartments occupied by the noble family. Amongst the squires, who held the horses by their bridles, were Fernan and Alvar, who was trying to keep Babieca quiet, as his prancing and neighing were throwing the other horses into confusion. That noble animal seemed quite excited by the preparations for a campaign which were going on around him. He was no longer the poor-looking hack which Rodrigo had selected in the stables of Don Peyre, and which excited the laughter of the passers-by. His body had filled up, his coat had changed and acquired gloss, he carried his head well and bravely, and his entire appearance and movements were noble and free.

"By the soul of Beelzebub," Fernan was saying, "this Babieca thinks that he will be soon in close quarters with the Moors, and he can't contain his delight. My lord and master is fortunate in everything. If the son of my mother had a horse like that, he would not exchange it for the steed of a king. And," he added, passing his hand over the sides of the intelligent animal, "my good Babieca, what you eat puts a shine on you. If you were mine it is not oats you would get, but the best bread."

Overo, which was also there, brilliantly caparisoned, approached his head to Fernan, rubbing it against him, as if jealous of the praises which were being lavished on Babieca. The squire turned towards him, stroking him also with his hand, and said—

"Hola, Overo! are you jealous, my son? If you were as brave as Babieca, I would caress and reward you in fine style. But do not let my praises of Babieca trouble you, for your well-filled sides witness that I treat you well. You are not very spirited, indeed; but everyone is as God made him, and it is not just to punish failings which come to one from his mother. Here are our masters, who treat Alvar as the very best of their servants, and for all that he has not even as much spunk in him as you have, Overo."

"By my soul, Fernan!" cried Alvar in a passion, "you must give up comparisons of that kind."

"If you only were braver, I would compare you to Babieca."

"It is my misfortune that this knave of a squire is always making fun of me!" muttered Alvar, still very angry, but fearing to irritate Fernan. "I wonder why you show such enmity towards me for some time back," he added, turning towards him. "Have I offended you in any way, Fernan?"

"And you dare ask me such a question, when the reins of Overo answered a similar one on your ribs yesterday? I swear to you, Alvar, by the soul of Beelzebub, that I will break every bone in your body if you don't treat the Moorish boy like the son of a prince."

"I certainly do scold him sometimes, but it is because his pranks, which you laugh at and applaud, irritate me."

"I applaud them because sprightliness in children should be applauded. Ismael, or rather Gil, for our masters have given him that name, is a little turbulent; but for that very reason I believe that he will grow up to be a brave youth, and a skilful and daring warrior. I have given him only about a dozen lessons in horsemanship and the use of arms, and he is now, as God hears me, almost as expert in such things as I am myself."

The squire and the page had got thus far in their conversation when they had to interrupt it, as they heard the cavaliers coming.

Rodrigo Diaz was indeed about to undertake a long journey, and his cousins and several knights of Burgos, who considered it a great honour to be permitted to do so, were to accompany him. He was going to Compostela, to visit the shrine of the apostle St. James, for the purpose of returning thanks to him for the victory of the mountains of Oca, and also to comply with the custom, which every good knight practised at least once in his life, of prostrating himself before the holy patron of Spain, on whose aid he counted in all his warlike deeds. At the same time Rodrigo desired to pay a visit to the king, Don Fernando, who at that time was personally superintending the reconstruction of Zamora, from whence he had sent him letters, congratulating him on the victory of Oca, and expressing an earnest desire to see him. Zamora the Beautiful, as our romance-writers call it, had been destroyed by the Moors in the time of Don Bermudo III., the last King of Leon, whom Don Fernando had defeated in a battle fought on the banks of the river Carrion, in which Don Bermudo lost his life; after this the King of Castile had joined the two crowns. Don Fernando had the intention of leaving it to his daughter Urraca as a legacy, and for that reason he was assisting in person at its reconstruction, endeavouring with much trouble to make the jewel, which he was preparing for his daughter, worthy of her who was to be the possessor of it.

Rodrigo Diaz, with the cavaliers, squires, and pages of his escort, mounted their steeds at the gate of the palace, and waving adieu to those who came to the windows to bid them farewell, they quitted Burgos and took the road to Zamora, all in excellent spirits, although Rodrigo felt that he was almost leaving his soul behind when he parted from Ximena and his parents. Fernan also felt rather sad on leaving Mayor, whom he had sworn would henceforth be his only love, even if there were wars, in which so many men should be killed, that there would be fully four women left for each of those who survived.

The name of Rodrigo Diaz resounded through all parts of the country; the son of the grandee of Vivar was an object of love and admiration to both Castilians and Leonese, for his brave deeds had reached the ears of all. For this reason, wherever he passed, the people crowded out to welcome him; and in the plains, where he halted to spend the night, there was warm rivalry as to who should have the honour of entertaining him in his house. This was naturally very pleasing to Rodrigo, but, in order to give offence to none, he arranged that he, and those who accompanied, should lodge in the public hostelries which were not wanting on that route.

The night was somewhat advanced when they came near to Medina de Riosico; it had rained so heavily during the day that the roads were almost impassable; it was, moreover, very cold, and the darkness was complete. Our cavaliers were crossing an extensive morass, when they thought they heard very doleful moans issuing from a thicket, which lay at the side of the road, and when they stopped their horses, in order to hear better, a weak voice became audible, which said—

"Help me, travellers, whoever you are; if not, I shall die in this thicket! Alas! I have lost my sight, and I cannot save myself with my feet and hands."

"Be not uneasy," replied Rodrigo in a loud voice; "you shall be succoured without delay." He then continued, addressing his companions: "It must be some unfortunate mendicant who has lost his way in the darkness and amongst the thick bushes which grow hereabout. Let us seek him out and bring him with us to Medina, which is near here, and where we are to halt for the night."

He then guided Babieca towards the spot from whence the groans proceeded, but the ground was so cut up, and the thicket so dense, that the horses were scarcely able to advance a dozen paces. Rodrigo therefore dismounted, and, giving the reins of Babieca to Fernan, advanced so rapidly into the thicket, that none of his companions were able to follow him. Guided by the voice of him who had lost his way, he came to where he was, and found an old man stretched on the ground, covered with mud, soaked with water, and his limbs paralysed by the cold, as well as by some nervous affection he had in them. He raised him from the ground, filled with compassion, and endeavoured to encourage and console him. When he asked him how he got into such a place, the old man replied—

"I lost my way in the evening, and tried for a long time to find it again, but without success, for the more I moved about in this thicket, the more did I become perplexed, until, my strength having become exhausted, and my body benumbed with cold, I fell in the place where you found me. In vain did I call out for aid to those who passed by, but they either did not hear me, or did not want to give themselves trouble. I had then resigned myself to die, and become the food of the wild animals which frequent this thicket, when I heard you, and summoned up sufficient strength to call out. God will protect him who raised up the weak, and guided the blind!"

Rodrigo endeavoured to get the unfortunate man to walk out of the morass, but he was soon convinced that he could not move a step, and then, finding more strength in his kindly heart than even in his shoulders, he took him up on them, and, although he met with many obstacles, got back to the road, which he had left, in a very short time. The old man wept with gratitude and joy. Fernan wished to put him on his horse, and walk by its side to Medina, for he did not consider Overo strong enough to carry a double burden, especially as the road was so very bad. Rodrigo, however, did not wish to share the credit of saving the unfortunate old man.

"Babieca," he said, "is well able to carry two men, not alone to Medina, but even the entire distance to Zamora. You will see how easily and bravely he will continue his journey."

Thus speaking, Rodrigo mounted Babieca, and, with the assistance of Fernan, got up the old man on the saddle behind him. They all proceeded then towards Medina, where they arrived half an hour afterwards.

The table was ready laid, and knights and squires prepared for their supper. Rodrigo made the old man sit down beside him, to eat with them, notwithstanding that this determination displeased the other cavaliers, whom the dirt and the wounds of the mendicant disgusted. The supper, however, began, and as the hands of the old man were palsied, he let fall the food when carrying it to his mouth, which only moved Rodrigo to compassion for him. The other cavaliers could scarcely eat their meal on account of the repugnance which the old man caused them, and at last arose from the table, saying that they could not bear the sight any longer. Rodrigo rebuked them sharply, and obliged the mendicant to remain at the table in order to finish his supper, although he was desirous of leaving the room, so as not to trouble the companions of his generous benefactor.

When the supper was ended; when the blind man had somewhat recovered his strength; when the heat of the hearth had taken the numbness from his limbs; when his heart, in fine, had been consoled by the kindness of Rodrigo, the young cavalier began to talk familiarly to that unfortunate man, and by degrees the other cavaliers, who had gone to sup in another apartment, returned, desirous of hearing the stories which doubtless the blind man would relate.

"Ah, sir knight," he then said to Rodrigo, "how much would I rejoice to be able to repay your kindness! But what remains to me in this world? Nothing but a sad heart to express its gratitude,—and this instrument, with which I earn a poor subsistence," he added, pointing to his lute.

One of the nephews of Rodrigo—the youngest and most cheerful of them—said, on hearing these words—

"If it will be pleasing to you, my uncle and lord, and to himself also, this old man can amuse us for a while by singing to the accompaniment of his lute some of the ballads which he doubtless knows."

"I shall do so with very great pleasure," answered the blind man.

And as he felt that Rodrigo was not opposed to the proposal, he took up his lute and began to touch its strings with considerable skill and lightness, notwithstanding the palsy with which he was afflicted. He then suddenly stopped and said—

"Listen, cavaliers and squires, listen to the true story of a peasant from whom a traitor count stole his daughter, in order to dishonour her, and whose eyes he put out in order that he might not be able to avenge himself."

He then sang, with the accompaniment of his lute—

"Cavaliers of Leon,
Castilian cavaliers!
Haughty with the strong,
But gentle with the weak!
Through Leon and Castilian lands,
Wanders a poor old man,
A count's foul crimes denouncing—
For a vile wretch is that count.
He cannot take revenge himself,
For age his body bends,
And his eyes now only serve
To weep o'er his sad fate.
Come to the aid of that old man,
In his most wretched plight,—
Cavaliers of Leon,
Castilian cavaliers!

That vile count stole his daughter,—
She was fair as a May rose,—
And put him in a prison dark,
Where the tyrant then did blind
That sad, ill-fated, wretched man.
Who will dry his constant tears?
Who will give him back his child?
Cavaliers, if such ye are,
Punish that accursed count,—
Him who bears off maidens fair,
Him who vilely blinds old men.
Such is the duty of the good,
Such is the mission of the great
Cavaliers of Leon,
Castilian cavaliers!"

The old man ceased his song, for he became almost suffocated with sobs and tears. Those who had been listening to him were also much moved, and their indignation was so great against the count, who had been alluded to, although they did not know who he was, that if he appeared in their presence at that moment, they would have rushed at him with their naked swords.

"Do you tell us that your story is true?" asked Rodrigo.

"Yes, it is true, sir knight, unfortunately for me," he replied.

"Unfortunately for you? As I hope to be saved," exclaimed Rodrigo, remembering the adventure which Beatrice had related to him and to Fernan, "that count is the Count of Carrion, and you are the old man whose daughter was stolen!"

"You are quite right, sir knight."

"I vow by Judas Iscariot, that I would willingly give ten years of my life to be able to put ten inches of my sword into the breast of that felon count!" exclaimed Fernan, giving vent to his indignation, which he could not restrain, although he knew it was contrary to his duty to interrupt the conversation of his master.

"And you know nothing of your daughter?" asked Rodrigo of the blind man.

"I do not know, sir knight, what has become of her, but I suppose the count keeps her shut up in his castle, for, if not, she would have endeavoured to find her unfortunate father, whom she loved so much, and loves still if she is alive."

The poor old man, as we see, was far from suspecting how different his daughter had become since the count had deprived her of her robe of innocence.

"And have you found no cavalier to take upon himself the carrying out of the revenge which you desire?" asked Rodrigo.

"I have found," replied the old man, "a soldier, as brave as he is kind-hearted; but up to the present he has not been able to do anything."

"Then we will assist him in his task, and, as God lives, it shall not avail the count to shut himself up in his castle and lend a deaf ear to every challenge, as is his custom," said Rodrigo.

"Yes, yes!" exclaimed all present; "we must punish that accursed count, who is a disgrace to the nobility of Leon and Castile."

"Oh," cried the unfortunate old man, filled with joy, "God will assist you in your noble enterprise. My journey to Medina has not been in vain, for if I have not met the valiant and noble cavalier whom I was in search of, I have found another, not less kind-hearted and compassionate."

"Who was the cavalier whom you were seeking?" asked Rodrigo.

"Don Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, he who was expected to lodge here to-night," he replied.

"Then you find here him you were in search of."

"My God!" exclaimed the old man, scarcely able to speak, such was his surprise, kissing the hand which Rodrigo held out to him. "Can it be possible that he who carried me on his shoulders, and seated me at his table, is Don Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, the conqueror in the mountains of Oca, the son of Diego Lainez, the descendant of the Judges of Castile, the most noble, honoured, powerful, and brave cavalier of Spain?"

"Rodrigo Diaz is he who took you on his shoulders, seated you at his table, and intends to share his bed with you," replied the son of Diego Lainez.

"Oh, my lord," cried the old man, not knowing how to express his gratitude, "your kindness to me has been too great; but to share your bed with me, a beggar, full of misery and dirt! No, no, that cannot be, my lord."

"You say that I am noble, honoured, and powerful. Who but the powerful, the honoured, and the noble should console and protect the afflicted, the sad, and the defenceless? Let us go to rest, for we all stand much in need of it, and particularly you, a feeble old man."

Rodrigo, his companions, and the blind man then retired, and in reality the former did share his bed with the mendicant. Divine rays of charity which would have adorned the noble brow of the cavalier with the aureole of the saints, if his brave deeds had not adorned it with the laurel crown of the hero; for charity modestly hides herself, whilst warlike heroism cannot do so.

It is impossible to describe the gratitude of the unhappy old man when, the following morning, he parted from the compassionate cavalier. It is impossible also to describe the inspired accents in which, shedding abundant tears, he said to Rodrigo—

"My lord, I feel confident that God has sent me to you to bring you glad tidings. You are loved by Him; you will conquer in all your battles; your honours and your prosperity will increase; you will be feared by the bad and loved by the good, and you will die happy, blessed by God and by men."

Rodrigo looked on these words as a divine prophecy. The accents in which they were pronounced made him believe that it was such.

At the rising of the sun, that bright and beautiful sun which follows a storm, Rodrigo and his companions departed from Medina de Rioseco, with the intention of reaching Zamora on that day; which they succeeded in doing.

Here, where but a short time before could be seen heaps of rubbish, between which nettles and brambles grew and reptiles hissed, where it might have been said, "Here was Zamora," using the expression applied in old times to the city of Æneas—here, we repeat, were springing up magnificent temples with high turrets, superb palaces, and strong fortifications; and bustle and animation had succeeded to the silence and solitude which had but recently reigned there.

The king, Don Fernando, was just going to dinner when he was informed that Rodrigo had arrived in the city. The joy of the wise and good monarch was very great; Don Fernando did not look upon the cavalier, whom he was about to see, as a vassal, but as the most beloved of his friends—even more than that, as one of his sons. Even the circumstance of being separated from his family, which had remained in Burgos and was so dear to him, had caused him to desire with greater eagerness the arrival of Rodrigo, for he had now passed a considerable time without being able to expand his heart in the calm pleasures of family life. He therefore longed to have at his side one, with whom he could feel himself joined by closer and softer bonds than those which usually unite the lord to his vassal, in order that he might satisfy the most imperious necessity of his soul, that of living in the bosom of friendship. He had scarcely learned that Rodrigo had crossed the threshold of the palace when he went to meet him, like a father who goes out to meet a son after a long absence from the paternal dwelling. The brave and noble cavalier was about to prostrate himself at the feet of the king, like a good vassal as he was, but Don Fernando did not allow him to do so, for he opened his arms and pressed him in them, with an effusion of affection and esteem almost paternal, saying to him, "You are very welcome, Rodrigo, glory of Castile and strongest pillar of my throne."

"Oh, sire," exclaimed Rodrigo, much moved by so flattering a reception, "the strongest pillars of your throne are your own wisdom, your goodness, and the affection which your subjects feel for you. I am one of them, and I would not change my condition for yours, for the honours you confer on me are of more value in my eyes than a throne."

"I love you, Rodrigo, as the best of my vassals, and I repay but poorly all your services to me. I do not alone admire and respect you as the descendant of Lain Calvo, as the son of Diego Lainez, as the valiant youth who knew how to avenge the insult inflicted on his honour, as he who conquered the bravest of the Aragonian knights, and finally, as the hero who gained one of the most glorious triumphs over the Moorish power; but as the magnanimous and generous cavalier who restored to freedom Abengalvon and his companions in misfortune. How great loyalty must not the King of Castile and Leon expect from him who, having conquered them, respected even the enemies of his God and his country, because they bore the name of king."

All the cavaliers who were with Don Fernando were also much rejoiced at the arrival of Rodrigo, and felicitated him on his victory at Oca. Rodrigo was soon seated at the king's table, which honour he enjoyed during the few days he was obliged to spend in Zamora, for Don Fernando was unwilling that he should depart, and only consented at last on account of the sacred object of his journey.

The day at last arrived on which he had to resume it. Everything was ready for his departure, when a great commotion was noticed amongst the townspeople who were thronging towards the avenue which led to the royal Alcazar. The king, Rodrigo, and the courtiers went out on a balcony, and were much surprised at the strange spectacle which they saw. A large number of Moors, richly clad, were leading more than a hundred horses gorgeously caparisoned, and in addition several mules all heavily loaded.

When the Moors arrived at the gates of the Alcazar, they sent to ask Rodrigo's permission to appear in his presence. He conceded it, having obtained the assent of the king, and they entered the apartment in which the noble cavalier awaited them, seated beside the king, who thus honoured him in order that the Moslims might see in what estimation he was held.

"Cid," said to Rodrigo he who seemed to be the leader of the ambassadors, "Abengalvon, king of Molina, Mahomad, king of Huesca, Ali, king of Zaragoza, Osmin, king of Teruel, and Hamet, king of Calatayud, whom you took prisoners in the mountains of Oca, and to whom you generously restored their freedom, send you their tributes and pay you homage, as vassals who are pleased to do so. In addition, they send you, as marks of friendship and gratitude, thirty sorrel horses, thirty black horses, twenty white, and twenty dapple-grey, besides valuable ornaments and precious stones for your spouse, and rich cloths and good arms for yourself and your knights."

"You are mistaken in your errand," replied Rodrigo modestly and humbly; "you have called me Cid, which in your language signifies 'a lord over vassals,' and I am not a lord where my king is, but only the least of his vassals. Here you see my king, and to him you must pay homage, and to him you must offer the tributes and the marks of friendship which Abengalvon and his friends have confided to your charge."

"Say to your masters," interrupted the king, exceedingly pleased by his humility, and addressing the Moors, "that although their lord is not a king himself, he is seated beside the King of Castile and Leon; tell them also that to him I owe a large portion of the territories which I possess, and that I consider it a greater glory to have him as my vassal than to be a king myself. As you have called him 'Cid,' it is my will that from this day he shall bear that name."

Rodrigo then received the tributes and gifts which the Moorish kings had sent to him, and wrote to each of them a letter, expressing his thanks, and promising to return their loyalty and friendship.

The ambassadors received from the hand of Rodrigo valuable presents, and departed, repeating the name of 'Cid,' which the son of Diego Lainez was henceforth to bear, and to which was soon added Campeador,[1] which both Moors and Christians conferred on him, on account of his constant and glorious triumphs on the fields of battle.

A few hours after he had received this honourable embassy, Rodrigo left Zamora, with the friends and servants who accompanied him on his journey; all were in good spirits and desirous of arriving at Compostela, in order to fulfil the duties of Christian cavaliers before the altar of the holy apostle, and afterwards practise other duties in the districts which were frequently invaded by the Moors.