Читать книгу Legends & Romances of Spain - Lewis Spence - Страница 35

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Now the Count of Barcelona, Raymond Berenger, a haughty and arrogant lord, conceived the presence of the Cid in a territory so near his own dominions to be an insult to himself, and in a high passion he mustered all his forces, Moorish as well as Christian, so that he might drive the Cid from the lands he held in tribute. The Campeador, hearing of the advance of this host, sent a courteous message to Count Raymond, assuring him of pacific intentions toward himself. But the Count felt that his personal dignity had been offended, and refused to receive the messenger.

When the Cid beheld the army of Raymond marching against his position on the heights of Mont’real, he knew that his overtures for peace had been in vain, and, dressing his ranks for the fierce combat that he knew must follow, took up a position upon the plain suitable for cavalry. The lightly armed Moorish horsemen of Berenger’s host rushed precipitately to the attack, but were easily routed by the Castilian cavaliers. The Count’s Frankish men-at-arms, a band of skilful and warlike mercenaries, then thundered down-hill upon the lances of the Cid. The shock was terrific, but brief was the combat, for the knights of Castile, hardened by constant warfare, speedily overthrew the Frankish horsemen. The Cid himself attacked Count Berenger, took him prisoner, and forced him to deliver up his famous sword Colada, which figures so prominently in the mighty deeds which follow. A falchion which tradition states is none other than this celebrated blade, the Spanish Excalibur, is still shown at the Armeria at Madrid, and all pious lovers of chivalry will gladly believe that it is the sword taken by the Campeador from the haughty Berenger, even though the profane point out that its hilt is obviously of the fifteenth century!

Greatly content were they of the Cid’s company with the victory no less than with the spoil, and a feast worthy of princes was prepared to celebrate the occasion.

In courtesy the Cid invited the defeated Count Raymond to feast with him, but he refused the invitation with hauteur, saying that his capture by outlaws had taken away his appetite. Nettled at this display of rudeness, the Cid told him that he would not see his realms again until he broke bread and drank wine with him. Three whole days did the Count refuse to touch all provender, and on the third day the Cid promised him immediate freedom if he would break his fast. This was too much for the haughty Berenger, whose hunger now outmatched his scruples. “Powers above!” exclaims the poet, “with what gust did he eat! His hands plied so quickly that my Cid7 might not see their play.” The Cid then gave him his liberty, and they parted on good terms.

“Ride on, ride on, my noble Count, a free Frank as thou art;

For all the spoil thou leavest me I thank thee from my heart.

And if to turn the chance of fate against me thou shalt come,

Right gladly shall I listen for the echoes of thy drum.”

“Nay, Roderick, I leave in peace and peace I shall maintain;

From me thou sure hast spoil enow to count a twelvemonth’s gain.”

He drove the spur, but backward glanced, he feared for treachery;

So black a thought the Cid had harboured not for Christendie.

No, not for all the wealthy world, who kept his soul in light.

Whose heart as his so free from guile, the very perfect knight?