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21. Upon this, the king ordered that fires should be kindled to dispel the
darkness, and to correct the noxious and long-imprisoned air; he
then led the way into the interior; but, though stout of heart, he
advanced with awe and hesitation.
After proceeding a short distance, he entered a hall or ante-
chamber, on the opposite side of which was a door, and before it, on
a pedestal stood a gigantic figure, of the color of bronze and of a
terrible aspect. It held a huge mace, which it whirled incessantly,
giving such cruel and resounding blows upon the earth as to prevent
all further entrance.
The king paused at sight of this appalling figure, for whether it
were a living being, or a statue of magic artifice, he could not tell.
On its breast was a scroll, whereon was inscribed, in large letters, “I
do my duty.”[13] After a little while, Roderick plucked up heart, and
addressed it with great solemnity. “Whatever thou be,” said he,
“know that I come not to violate this sanctuary, but to inquire into
the mystery it contains; I conjure thee, therefore, to let me pass in
safety.”
Upon this the figure paused with uplifted mace, and the king and
his train passed unmolested through the door.
They now entered a vast chamber, of a rare and sumptuous
architecture, difficult to be described. The walls were incrusted with
the most precious gems, so joined together as to form one smooth
and perfect surface. The lofty dome appeared to be self-supported,
and was studded with gems, lustrous as the stars of the firmament.
There was neither wood, nor any other common or base material to
be seen throughout the edifice. There were no windows or other
openings to admit the day, yet a radiant light was spread throughout
the place which seemed to shine from the walls and to render every
object distinctly visible.
In the centre of this hall stood a table of alabaster, of the rarest
workmanship, on which was inscribed, in Greek characters, that
22. Hercules Alcides, the Theban Greek, had founded this tower in the
year of the world three thousand and six. Upon the table stood a
golden casket, richly set round with precious stones, and closed with
a lock of mother-of-pearl, and on the lid were inscribed the following
words:—
“In this coffer is contained the mystery of the tower. The hand of
none but a king can open it; but let him beware! for marvelous
events will be revealed to him, which are to take place before his
death.”
King Roderick boldly seized upon the casket. The venerable
archbishop laid his hand upon his arm, and made a last
remonstrance. “Forbear, my son,” said he; “desist while there is yet
time. Look not into the mysterious decrees of Providence. God has
hidden them in mercy from our sight, and it is impious to rend the
veil by which they are concealed.”
“What have I to dread from a knowledge of the future?” replied
Roderick, with an air of haughty presumption. “If good be destined
me I shall enjoy it by anticipation; if evil, I shall arm myself to meet
it.” So saying, he rashly broke the lock.
Within the coffer he found nothing but a linen cloth, folded
between two tablets of copper. On unfolding it, he beheld painted on
it figures of men on horseback, of fierce demeanor, clad in turbans
and robes of various colors, after the fashion of the Arabs, with
scimetars hanging from their necks, and cross-bows at their saddle-
backs, and they carried banners and pennons with divers devices.
Above them was inscribed, in Greek characters, “Rash monarch!
behold the men who are to hurl thee from thy throne, and subdue
thy kingdom!”
At sight of these things the king was troubled in spirit, and
dismay fell upon his attendants. While they were yet regarding the
paintings, it seemed as if the figures began to move, and a faint
sound of warlike tumult arose from the cloth, with the clash of
23. cymbal and bray of trumpet, the neigh of steed and shout of army;
but all was heard indistinctly, as if afar off, or in a reverie or dream.
The more they gazed, the plainer became the motion, and the
louder the noise; and the linen cloth rolled forth, and amplified, and
spread out, as it were, a mighty banner, and filled the hall, and
mingled with the air, until its texture was no longer visible, or
appeared as a transparent cloud. And the shadowy figures became
all in motion, and the din and uproar became fiercer and fiercer; and
whether the whole were an animated picture, or a vision, or an array
of embodied spirits, conjured up by supernatural power, no one
present could tell. They beheld before them a great field of battle,
where Christians and Moslems were engaged in deadly conflict. They
heard the rush and tramp of steeds, the blast of trump and clarion,
the clash of cymbal, and the stormy din of a thousand drums. There
was the clash of swords, and maces, and battle-axes, with the
whistling of arrows and the hurtling of darts and lances. The
Christians quailed before the foe; the infidels pressed upon them
and put them to utter rout; the standard of the cross was cast down,
the banner of Spain was trodden under foot, the air resounded with
shouts of triumph, with yells of fury, and with the groans of dying
men. Amidst the flying squadrons King Roderick beheld a crowned
warrior, whose back was towards him, but whose armor and device
were his own, and who was mounted on a white steed that
resembled his own war-horse Orelia. In the confusion of the flight,
the warrior was dismounted, and was no longer to be seen, and
Orelia galloped wildly through the field of battle without a rider.
Roderick stayed to see no more, but rushed from the fatal hall,
followed by his terrified attendants. They fled through the outer
chamber, where the gigantic figure with the whirling mace had
disappeared from his pedestal, and, on issuing into the open air,
they found the two ancient guardians of the tower lying dead at the
portal, as though they had been crushed by some mighty blow. All
nature, which had been clear and serene, was now in wild uproar.
The heavens were darkened by heavy clouds; loud bursts of thunder
rent the air, and the earth was deluged with rain and rattling hail.
24. The king ordered that the iron portal should be closed, but the
door was immovable, and the cavaliers were dismayed by the
tremendous turmoil and the mingled shouts and groans that
continued to prevail within. The king and his train hastened back to
Toledo, pursued and pelted by the tempest. The mountains shook
and echoed with the thunder, trees were uprooted and blown down,
and the Tagus raged and roared and flowed above its banks. It
seemed to the affrighted courtiers as if the phantom legions of the
tower had issued forth and mingled with the storm; for amidst the
claps of thunder and the howling of the wind, they fancied they
heard the sound of the drums and trumpets, the shouts of armies,
and the rush of steeds. Thus beaten by tempest and overwhelmed
with horror, the king and his courtiers arrived at Toledo, clattering
across the bridge of the Tagus, and entering the gate in headlong
confusion, as though they had been pursued by an enemy.
In the morning the heavens were again serene, and all nature
was restored to tranquillity. The king, therefore, issued forth with his
cavaliers, and took the road to the tower, followed by a great
multitude, for he was anxious once more to close the iron door, and
shut up those evils that threatened to overwhelm the land. But lo!
on coming in sight of the tower, a new wonder met their eyes. An
eagle appeared high in the air, seeming to descend from heaven. He
bore in his beak a burning brand, and, lighting on the summit of the
tower, fanned the fire with his wings. In a little while the edifice
burst forth into a blaze, as though it had been built of rosin, and the
flames mounted into the air with a brilliancy more dazzling than the
sun; nor did they cease until every stone was consumed, and the
whole was reduced to a heap of ashes. Then there came a vast
flight of birds, small of size and sable of hue, darkening the sky like
a cloud; and they descended, and wheeled in circles round the
ashes, causing so great a wind with their wings that the whole was
borne up into the air, and scattered throughout all Spain, and
wherever a particle of that ashes fell it was as a stain of blood. It is
furthermore recorded by ancient men and writers of former days,
that all those on whom this dust fell were afterwards slain in battle,
25. when the country was conquered by the Arabs, and that the
destruction of this necromantic tower was a sign and token of the
approaching perdition of Spain.
“Let all those,” concludes the cautious friar, “who question the
verity of this most marvelous occurrence, consult those admirable
sources of our history, the chronicle of the Moor Rasis, and the work
entitled “The Fall of Spain,” written by the Moor Abulcasim Tarif
Abentarique. Let them consult, moreover, the venerable historian
Bleda, and the cloud of other Catholic Spanish writers who have
treated of this event, and they will find I have related nothing that
has not been printed and published under the inspection and
sanction of our holy mother Church. God alone knoweth the truth of
these things; I speak nothing but what has been handed down to
me from times of old.”
26. CHAPTER VIII.
Count Julian.— His Fortunes in Africa.— He hears of
the Dishonor of his Child.— His Conduct thereupon.
he 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
27. 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 spirit; but the Goths, inured to danger on this
frontier, retained the stubborn valor 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 Muza 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.”
28. 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
honors 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 dishonored,
and, in seeking to revenge 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 defense 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 acclamation 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 favors; seeking to appease his own
conscience by heaping honors upon the father in atonement of the
29. 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 defense 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
30. her husband sternly in the face. “Perdition light upon thy head,” said
she, “if thou submit to this dishonor. 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 demeanor, and
smooth and 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 honor 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
31. they would visit the sins of the tyrant upon his head, and, at the
same time, restore the regal honors to their line. For this purpose
their own force would be insufficient, 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]
32. CHAPTER IX.
Secret Visit of Count Julian to the Arab Camp.— First
Expedition of Taric el Tuerto.
hen Count Julian had placed his family in security in Ceuta,
surrounded by soldiery devoted to his fortunes, he took
with him a few confidential followers and departed in
secret for the camp of the Arabian Emir, Muza ben Nosier.
The camp was spread out in one of those pastoral valleys which lie
at the feet of the Barbary Hills, with the great range of the Atlas
Mountains towering in the distance. In the motley army here
assembled were warriors of every tribe and nation, that had been
united by pact or conquest in the cause of Islam. There were those
who had followed Muza from the fertile regions of Egypt, across the
deserts of Barca, and those who had joined his standard from
among the sunburnt tribes of Mauritania. There were Saracen and
Tartar, Syrian and Copt, and swarthy Moor; sumptuous warriors from
the civilized cities of the East, and the gaunt and predatory rovers of
the desert. The greater part of the army, however, was composed of
Arabs; but differing greatly from the first rude hordes that enlisted
under the banner of Mahomet. Almost a century of continual wars
33. with the cultivated nations of the East had rendered them
accomplished warriors; and the occasional sojourn in luxurious
countries and populous cities, had acquainted them with the arts
and habits of civilized life. Still the roving, restless, and predatory
habits of the genuine son of Ishmael prevailed, in defiance of every
change of clime or situation.
Count Julian found the Arab conqueror Muza surrounded by
somewhat of Oriental state and splendor. He was advanced in life,
but of a noble presence, and concealed his age by tingeing his hair
and beard with henna. The count assumed an air of soldier-like
frankness and decision when he came into his presence. “Hitherto,”
said he, “we have been enemies; but I come to thee in peace, and it
rests with thee to make me the most devoted of thy friends. I have
no longer country or king. Roderick the Goth is an usurper, and my
deadly foe; he has wounded my honor in the tenderest point, and
my country affords me no redress. Aid me in my vengeance, and I
will deliver all Spain into thy hands,—a land far exceeding in fertility
and wealth all the vaunted regions thou hast conquered in
Tingitania.”
The heart of Muza leaped with joy at these words, for he was a
bold and ambitious conqueror, and, having overrun all western
Africa, had often cast a wistful eye to the mountains of Spain, as he
beheld them brightening beyond the waters of the strait. Still he
possessed the caution of a veteran, and feared to engage in an
enterprise of such moment, and to carry his arms into another
division of the globe, without the approbation of his sovereign.
Having drawn from Count Julian the particulars of his plan, and of
the means he possessed to carry it into effect, he laid them before
his confidential counselors and officers, and demanded their opinion.
“These words of Count Julian,” said he, “may be false and deceitful;
or he may not possess the power to fulfill his promises. The whole
may be a pretended treason to draw us on to our destruction. It is
more natural that he should be treacherous to us than to his
country.”
34. Among the generals of Muza, was a gaunt, swarthy veteran,
scarred with wounds,—a very Arab, whose great delight was roving
and desperate enterprise, and who cared for nothing beyond his
steed, his lance, and scimetar. He was a native of Damascus; his
name was Taric ben Zeyad, but, from having lost an eye, he was
known among the Spaniards by the appellation of Taric el Tuerto, or
Taric the one-eyed.
The hot blood of this veteran Ishmaelite was in a ferment when
he heard of a new country to invade and vast regions to subdue,
and he dreaded lest the cautious hesitation of Muza should permit
the glorious prize to escape them. “You speak doubtingly,” said he,
“of the words of this Christian cavalier, but their truth is easily to be
ascertained. Give me four galleys and a handful of men, and I will
depart with this Count Julian, skirt the Christian coast, and bring
thee back tidings of the land, and of his means to put it in our
power.”
The words of the veteran pleased Muza ben Nosier, and he gave
his consent; and Taric departed with four galleys, and five hundred
men, guided by the traitor Julian.[16] This first expedition of the
Arabs against Spain, took place, according to certain historians, in
the year of our Lord seven hundred and twelve; though others differ
on this point, as indeed they do upon almost every point in this early
period of Spanish history. The date to which the judicious chroniclers
incline, is that of seven hundred and ten, in the month of July. It
would appear from some authorities, also, that the galleys of Taric
cruised along the coasts of Andalusia and Lusitania, under the
feigned character of merchant barks, nor is this at all improbable,
while they were seeking merely to observe the land, and get a
knowledge of the harbors. Wherever they touched, Count Julian
dispatched emissaries to assemble his friends and adherents at an
appointed place. They gathered together secretly at Gezira Alhadra,
that is to say, the Green Island, where they held a conference with
Count Julian in presence of Taric ben Zeyad.[17] Here they again
avowed their readiness to flock to his standard whenever it should
35. be openly raised, and made known their various preparations for a
rebellion. Taric was convinced, by all that he had seen and heard,
that Count Julian had not deceived them, either as to his disposition
or his means to betray his country. Indulging his Arab inclinations,
he made an inroad into the land, collected great spoil and many
captives, and bore off his plunder in triumph to Muza, as a specimen
of the riches to be gained by the conquest of the Christian land.[18]
36. CHAPTER X.
Letter of Muza to the Caliph.— Second Expedition of
Taric el Tuerto.
n hearing the tidings brought by Taric el Tuerto, and
beholding the spoil he had collected, Muza wrote a letter
to the Caliph Waled Almanzor, setting forth the traitorous
proffer of Count Julian, and the probability, through his
means, of making a successful invasion of Spain. “A new land,” said
he, “spreads itself out before our delighted eyes, and invites our
conquest: a land, too, that equals Syria in the fertility of its soil and
the serenity of its sky; Yemen, or Arabia the Happy, in its delightful
temperature; India, in its flowers and spices; Hegiaz, in its fruits and
flowers; Cathay, in its precious minerals; and Aden, in the excellence
of its ports and harbors. It is populous also, and wealthy; having
many splendid cities and majestic monuments of ancient art. What is
to prevent this glorious land from becoming the inheritance of the
faithful? Already we have overcome the tribes of Berbery, of Zab, of
Derar of Zaara, Mazamuda and Sus, and the victorious standard of
Islam floats on the towers of Tangier. But four leagues of sea
separate us from the opposite coast. One word from my sovereign,
and the conquerors of Africa will pour their legions into Andalusia,
37. rescue it from the domination of the unbeliever, and subdue it to the
law of the Koran.”[19]
The Caliph was overjoyed with the contents of the letter. “God is
great!” exclaimed he, “and Mahomet is his prophet! It has been
foretold by the ambassador of God that his law should extend to the
ultimate parts of the West, and be carried by the sword into new
and unknown regions. Behold another land is opened for the
triumphs of the faithful. It is the will of Allah, and be his sovereign
will obeyed.” So the Caliph sent missives to Muza, authorizing him to
undertake the conquest.
Upon this there was a great stir of preparation, and numerous
vessels were assembled and equipped at Tangier to convey the
invading army across the straits. Twelve thousand men were chosen
for this expedition,—most of them light Arabian troops, seasoned in
warfare, and fitted for hardy and rapid enterprise. Among them were
many horsemen, mounted on fleet Arabian steeds. The whole was
put under the command of the veteran Taric el Tuerto, or the one-
eyed, in whom Muza reposed implicit confidence as in a second self.
Taric accepted the command with joy; his martial fire was roused at
the idea of having such an army under his sole command, and such
a country to overrun, and he secretly determined never to return
unless victorious.
He chose a dark night to convey his troops across the Straits of
Hercules, and by break of day they began to disembark at Tarifa
before the country had time to take the alarm. A few Christians
hastily assembled from the neighborhood and opposed their landing,
but were easily put to flight. Taric stood on the sea-side, and
watched until the last squadron had landed, and all the horses,
armor, and munitions of war were brought on shore; he then gave
orders to set fire to the ships. The Moslems were struck with terror
when they beheld their fleet wrapped in flames and smoke, and
sinking beneath the waves. “How shall we escape,” exclaimed they,
“if the fortune of war should be against us?” “There is no escape for
the coward,” cried Taric; “the brave man thinks of none; your only
38. chance is victory.” “But how without ships shall we ever return to our
homes?” “Your homes,” replied Taric, “are before you; but you must
win them with your swords.”
While Taric was yet talking with his followers, says one of the
ancient chroniclers, a Christian female was descried waving a white
pennon on a reed, in signal of peace. On being brought into the
presence of Taric, she prostrated herself before him. “Señor,” said
she, “I am an ancient woman; and it is now fully sixty years past
and gone since, as I was keeping vigils one winter’s night by the
fireside, I heard my father, who was an exceeding old man, read a
prophecy said to have been written by a holy friar; and this was the
purport of the prophecy, that a time would arrive when our country
would be invaded and conquered by a people from Africa of a
strange garb, a strange tongue, and a strange religion. They were to
be led by a strong and valiant captain, who would be known by
these signs: on his right shoulder he would have a hairy mole, and
his right arm would be much longer than the left, and of such length
as to enable him to cover his knee with his hand without bending his
body.”
Taric listened to the old beldame with grave attention, and when
she had concluded, he laid bare his shoulder, and lo! there was the
mole as it had been described; his right arm, also, was in verity
found to exceed the other in length, though not to the degree that
had been mentioned. Upon this the Arab host shouted for joy, and
felt assured of conquest.
The discreet Antonio Agapida, though he records this
circumstance as it is set down in ancient chronicle, yet withholds his
belief from the pretended prophecy, considering the whole a cunning
device of Taric to increase the courage of his troops. “Doubtless,”
says he, “there was a collusion between this ancient sibyl and the
crafty son of Ishmael; for these infidel leaders were full of damnable
inventions to work upon the superstitious fancies of their followers,
and to inspire them with a blind confidence in the success of their
arms.”
39. Be this as it may, the veteran Taric took advantage of the
excitement of his soldiery, and led them forward to gain possession
of a stronghold, which was in a manner the key to all the adjacent
country. This was a lofty mountain or promontory almost surrounded
by the sea, and connected with the main-land by a narrow isthmus.
It was called the rock of Calpe, and, like the opposite rock of Ceuta,
commanded the entrance to the Mediterranean Sea. Here, in old
times, Hercules had set up one of his pillars, and the city of Heraclea
had been built.
As Taric advanced against this promontory, he was opposed by a
hasty levy of the Christians, who had assembled under the banner of
a Gothic noble of great power and importance, whose domains lay
along the mountainous coast of the Mediterranean. The name of this
Christian cavalier was Theodomir, but he has universally been called
Tadmir by the Arabian historians, and is renowned as being the first
commander that made any stand against the inroads of the
Moslems. He was about forty years of age; hardy, prompt, and
sagacious; and had all the Gothic nobles been equally vigilant and
shrewd in their defense, the banner of Islam would never have
triumphed over the land.
Theodomir had but seventeen hundred men under his command,
and these but rudely armed; yet he made a resolute stand against
the army of Taric, and defended the pass to the promontory with
great valor. He was at length obliged to retreat, and Taric advanced
and planted his standard on the rock of Calpe, and fortified it as his
stronghold, and as the means of securing an entrance into the land.
To commemorate his first victory, he changed the name of the
promontory, and called it Gibel Taric, or the Mountain of Taric, but in
process of time the name has gradually been altered to Gibraltar.
In the mean time, the patriotic chieftain Theodomir, having
collected his routed forces, encamped with them on the skirts of the
mountains, and summoned the country round to join his standard.
He sent off missives in all speed to the king, imparting in brief and
blunt terms the news of the invasion, and craving assistance with
40. equal frankness. “Señor,” said he, in his letter, “the legions of Africa
are upon us, but whether they come from heaven or earth I know
not. They seem to have fallen from the clouds, for they have no
ships. We have been taken by surprise, overpowered by numbers,
and obliged to retreat; and they have fortified themselves in our
territory. Send us aid, Señor, with instant speed, or rather, come
yourself to our assistance.”[20]
41. CHAPTER XI.
Measures of Don Roderick on Hearing of the
Invasion.— Expedition of Ataulpho.— Vision of Taric.
hen Don Roderick heard that legions of turbaned troops
had poured into the land from Africa, he called to mind
the visions and predictions of the necromantic tower, and
great fear came upon him. But, though sunk from his
former hardihood and virtue, though enervated by indulgence, and
degraded in spirit by a consciousness of crime, he was resolute of
soul, and roused himself to meet the coming danger. He summoned
a hasty levy of horse and foot, amounting to forty thousand; but
now were felt the effects of the crafty counsel of Count Julian, for
the best of the horses and armor intended for the public service had
been sent into Africa, and were really in possession of the traitors.
Many nobles, it is true, took the field with the sumptuous array with
which they had been accustomed to appear at tournaments and
jousts, but most of their vassals were destitute of weapons, and
cased in cuirasses of leather, or suits of armor almost consumed by
rust. They were without discipline or animation; and their horses,
like themselves, pampered by slothful peace, were little fitted to
bear the heat, the dust, and toil of long campaigns.
42. This army Don Roderick put under the command of his kinsman
Ataulpho, a prince of the royal blood of the Goths, and of a noble
and generous nature; and he ordered him to march with all speed to
meet the foe, and to recruit his forces on the way with the troops of
Theodomir.
In the mean time, Taric el Tuerto had received large
reinforcements from Africa, and the adherents of Count Julian and
all those discontented with the sway of Don Roderick had flocked to
his standard; for many were deceived by the representations of
Count Julian, and thought that the Arabs had come to aid him in
placing the sons of Witiza upon the throne. Guided by the count, the
troops of Taric penetrated into various parts of the country, and laid
waste the land; bringing back loads of spoil to their stronghold at
the rock of Calpe.
The Prince Ataulpho marched with his army through Andalusia,
and was joined by Theodomir with his troops; he met with various
detachments of the enemy foraging the country, and had several
bloody skirmishes; but he succeeded in driving them before him, and
they retreated to the rock of Calpe, where Taric lay gathered up with
the main body of his army.
The prince encamped not far from the bay which spreads itself
out before the promontory. In the evening he dispatched the veteran
Theodomir, with a trumpet, to demand a parley of the Arab chieftain,
who received the envoy in his tent, surrounded by his captains.
Theodomir was frank and abrupt in speech, for the most of his life
had been passed far from courts. He delivered, in round terms, the
message of the Prince Ataulpho; upbraiding the Arab general with
his wanton invasion of the land, and summoning him to surrender
his army or to expect no mercy.
The single eye of Taric el Tuerto glowed like a coal of fire at this
message. “Tell your commander,” replied he, “that I have crossed the
strait to conquer Spain, nor will I return until I have accomplished
my purpose. Tell him I have men skilled in war, and armed in proof,
43. with whose aid I trust soon to give a good account of his rabble
host.”
A murmur of applause passed through the assemblage of Moslem
captains. Theodomir glanced on them a look of defiance, but his eye
rested on a renegado Christian, one of his own ancient comrades,
and a relation of Count Julian. “As to you, Don Graybeard,” said he,
“you who turn apostate in your declining age, I here pronounce you
a traitor to your God, your king, and country; and stand ready to
prove it this instant upon your body, if field be granted me.”
The traitor knight was stung with rage at these words, for truth
rendered them piercing to the heart. He would have immediately
answered to the challenge, but Taric forbade it, and ordered that the
Christian envoy should be conducted from the camp. “’Tis well,”
replied Theodomir; “God will give me the field which you deny. Let
yon hoary apostate look to himself to-morrow in the battle, for I
pledge myself to use my lance upon no other foe until it has shed his
blood upon the native soil he has betrayed.” So saying, he left the
camp, nor could the Moslem chieftains help admiring the honest
indignation of this patriot knight, while they secretly despised his
renegado adversary.
The ancient Moorish chroniclers relate many awful portents and
strange and mysterious visions, which appeared to the commanders
of either army during this anxious night. Certainly it was a night of
fearful suspense, and Moslem and Christian looked forward with
doubt to the fortune of the coming day. The Spanish sentinel walked
his pensive round, listening occasionally to the vague sounds from
the distant rock of Calpe, and eying it as the mariner eyes the
thunder-cloud, pregnant with terror and destruction. The Arabs, too,
from their lofty cliffs, beheld the numerous camp-fires of the
Christians gradually lighted up, and saw that they were a powerful
host; at the same time the night breeze brought to their ears the
sullen roar of the sea which separated them from Africa. When they
considered their perilous situation,—an army on one side, with a
whole nation aroused to reinforce it, and on the other an impassable
44. sea,—the spirits of many of the warriors were cast down, and they
repented the day when they had ventured into this hostile land.
Taric marked their despondency, but said nothing. Scarce had the
first streak of morning light trembled along the sea, however, when
he summoned his principal warriors to his tent. “Be of good cheer,”
said he; “Allah is with us and has sent his Prophet to give assurance
of his aid. Scarce had I retired to my tent last night, when a man of
a majestic and venerable presence stood before me. He was taller by
a palm than the ordinary race of men, his flowing beard was of a
golden hue, and his eyes were so bright that they seemed to send
forth flashes of fire. I have heard the Emir Bahamet, and other
ancient men, describe the Prophet, whom they had seen many times
while on earth, and such was his form and lineament. ‘Fear nothing,
O Taric, from the morrow,’ said he; ‘I will be with thee in the fight.
Strike boldly, then, and conquer. Those of thy followers who survive
the battle will have this land for an inheritance; for those who fall a
mansion in Paradise is prepared, and immortal houries await their
coming.’ He spake and vanished; I heard a strain of celestial melody,
and my tent was filled with the odors of Arabia the Happy.” “Such,”
say the Spanish chroniclers, “was another of the arts by which this
arch son of Ishmael sought to animate the hearts of his followers;
and the pretended vision has been recorded by the Arabian writers
as a veritable occurrence. Marvelous, indeed, was the effect
produced by it upon the infidel soldiery, who now cried out with
eagerness to be led against the foe.”
45. CHAPTER XII.
Battle of Calpe.— Fate of Ataulpho.
he gray summits of the rock of Calpe brightened with the
first rays of morning, as the Christian army issued forth
from its encampment. The Prince Ataulpho rode from
squadron to squadron, animating his soldiers for the
battle. “Never should we sheathe our swords,” said he, “while these
infidels have a footing in the land. They are pent up within you rocky
mountain; we must assail them in their rugged hold. We have a long
day before us; let not the setting sun shine upon one of their host
who is not a fugitive, a captive, or a corpse.”
The words of the prince were received with shouts, and the army
moved towards the promontory. As they advanced, they heard the
clash of cymbals and the bray of trumpets, and the rocky bosom of
the mountain glittered with helms and spears and scimetars; for the
Arabs, inspired with fresh confidence by the words of Taric, were
sallying forth, with flaunting banners, to the combat.
The gaunt Arab chieftain stood upon a rock as his troops
marched by; his buckler was at his back, and he brandished in his
hand a double-pointed spear. Calling upon the several leaders by
46. their names, he exhorted them to direct their attacks against the
Christian captains, and especially against Ataulpho; “for the chiefs
being slain,” said he, “their followers will vanish from before us like
the morning mist.”
The Gothic nobles were easily to be distinguished by the splendor
of their arms, but the Prince Ataulpho was conspicuous above all the
rest for the youthful grace and majesty of his appearance and the
bravery of his array. He was mounted on a superb Andalusian
charger, richly caparisoned with crimson velvet, embroidered with
gold. His surcoat was of like color and adornment, and the plumes
that waved above his burnished helmet were of the purest white.
Ten mounted pages, magnificently attired, followed him to the field,
but their duty was not so much to fight as to attend upon their lord,
and to furnish him with steed or weapon.
The Christian troops, though irregular and undisciplined, were full
of native courage; for the old warrior spirit of their Gothic sires still
glowed in their bosoms. There were two battalions of infantry, but
Ataulpho stationed them in the rear; “for God forbid,” said he, “that
foot-soldiers should have the place of honor in the battle, when I
have so many valiant cavaliers.” As the armies drew nigh to each
other, however, it was discovered that the advance of the Arabs was
composed of infantry. Upon this the cavaliers checked their steeds,
and requested that the foot soldiery might advance and disperse this
losel crew, holding it beneath their dignity to contend with
pedestrian foes. The prince, however, commanded them to charge;
upon which, putting spurs to their steeds, they rushed upon the foe.
The Arabs stood the shock manfully, receiving the horses upon
the points of their lances; many of the riders were shot down with
bolts from cross-bows, or stabbed with the poniards of the Moslems.
The cavaliers succeeded, however, in breaking into the midst of the
battalion and throwing it into confusion, cutting down some with
their swords, transpiercing others with their spears, and trampling
many under the hoofs of their horses. At this moment they were
attacked by a band of Spanish horsemen, the recreant partisans of
47. Count Julian. Their assault bore hard upon their countrymen, who
were disordered by the contest with the foot-soldiers, and many a
loyal Christian knight fell beneath the sword of an unnatural foe.
The foremost among these recreant warriors was the renegado
cavalier whom Theodomir had challenged in the tent of Taric. He
dealt his blows about him with a powerful arm and with malignant
fury, for nothing is more deadly than the hatred of an apostate. In
the midst of his career he was espied by the hardy Theodomir, who
came spurring to the encounter. “Traitor,” cried he, “I have kept my
vow. This lance has been held sacred from all other foes to make a
passage for thy perjured soul.” The renegade had been renowned
for prowess before he became a traitor to his country, but guilt will
sap the courage of the stoutest heart. When he beheld Theodomir
rushing upon him, he would have turned and fled; pride alone
withheld him; and, though an admirable master of defense, he lost
all skill to ward the attack of his adversary. At the first assault the
lance of Theodomir pierced him through and through; he fell to the
earth, gnashed his teeth as he rolled in the dust, but yielded his
breath without uttering a word.
The battle now became general, and lasted throughout the
morning with varying success. The stratagem of Taric, however,
began to produce its effect. The Christian leaders and most
conspicuous cavaliers were singled out and severally assailed by
overpowering numbers. They fought desperately, and performed
miracles of prowess, but fell, one by one, beneath a thousand
wounds. Still the battle lingered on throughout a great part of the
day, and as the declining sun shone through the clouds of dust, it
seemed as if the conflicting hosts were wrapped in smoke and fire.
The Prince Ataulpho saw that the fortune of battle was against
him. He rode about the field, calling out the names of the bravest of
his knights, but few answered to his call; the rest lay mangled on
the field. With this handful of warriors he endeavored to retrieve the
day, when he was assailed by Tenderos, a partisan of Count Julian,
at the head of a body of recreant Christians. At the sight of this new
48. adversary, fire flashed from the eyes of the prince, for Tenderos had
been brought up in his father’s palace. “Well dost thou, traitor!” cried
he, “to attack the son of thy lord, who gave thee bread; thou, who
hast betrayed thy country and thy God!”
So saying, he seized a lance from one of his pages, and charged
furiously upon the apostate; but Tenderos met him in mid career,
and the lance of the prince was shivered upon his shield. Ataulpho
then grasped his mace, which hung at his saddle-bow, and a
doubtful fight ensued. Tenderos was powerful of frame and superior
in the use of his weapons, but the curse of treason seemed to
paralyze his arm. He wounded Ataulpho slightly between the greaves
of his armor, but the prince dealt a blow with his mace that crushed
through helm and skull and reached the brain; and Tenderos fell
dead to earth, his armor rattling as he fell.
At the same moment, a javelin hurled by an Arab transpierced
the horse of Ataulpho, which sunk beneath him. The prince seized
the reins of the steed of Tenderos, but the faithful animal, as though
he knew him to be the foe of his late lord, reared and plunged and
refused to let him mount. The prince, however, used him as a shield
to ward off the press of foes, while with his sword he defended
himself against those in front of him. Taric ben Zeyad arrived at the
scene of conflict, and paused for a moment in admiration of the
surpassing prowess of the prince; recollecting, however, that his fall
would be a death-blow to his army, he spurred upon him, and
wounded him severely with his scimetar. Before he could repeat his
blow, Theodomir led up a body of Christian cavaliers to the rescue,
and Taric was parted from his prey by the tumult of the fight. The
prince sank to the earth, covered with wounds and exhausted by the
loss of blood. A faithful page drew him from under the hoofs of the
horses, and, aided by a veteran soldier, an ancient vassal of
Ataulpho, conveyed him to a short distance from the scene of battle,
by the side of a small stream that gushed out from among rocks.
They stanched the blood that flowed from his wounds, and washed
the dust from his face, and laid him beside the fountain. The page
49. sat at his head, and supported it on his knees, and the veteran stood
at his feet, with his brow bent and his eyes full of sorrow. The prince
gradually revived, and opened his eyes. “How fares the battle?” said
he. “The struggle is hard,” replied the soldier, “but the day may yet
be ours.”
The prince felt that the hour of his death was at hand, and
ordered that they should aid him to rise upon his knees. They
supported him between them, and he prayed fervently for a short
time, when, finding his strength declining, he beckoned the veteran
to sit down beside him on the rock. Continuing to kneel, he
confessed himself to that ancient soldier, having no priest or friar to
perform that office in this hour of extremity. When he had so done,
he sunk again upon the earth and pressed it with his lips, as if he
would take a fond farewell of his beloved country. The page would
then have raised his head, but found that his lord had yielded up the
ghost.
A number of Arab warriors, who came to the fountain to slake
their thirst, cut off the head of the prince, and bore it in triumph to
Taric, crying, “Behold the head of the Christian leader.” Taric
immediately ordered that the head should be put upon the end of a
lance, together with the surcoat of the prince, and borne about the
field of battle, with the sound of trumpets, atabals, and cymbals.
When the Christians beheld the surcoat, and knew the features
of the prince, they were struck with horror, and heart and hand
failed them. Theodomir endeavored in vain to rally them; they threw
by their weapons and fled; and they continued to fly, and the enemy
to pursue and slay them, until the darkness of the night. The
Moslems then returned and plundered the Christian camp, where
they found abundant spoil.
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