Читать книгу Legends & Romances of Spain - Lewis Spence - Страница 47

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When the time of truce was over the contending parties sought the lists. The Cid’s men did not waste much time in arming themselves, but the treacherous Infantes of Carrión had brought with them a number of their vassals in the hope that they might be able to slay the Cid’s champions by night, when they were off their guard. But Antolinez and his comrades kept good watch and frustrated their design. When they saw that there was no help for it but to meet their challengers à outrance, they prayed the King that the Cid’s men might not be permitted to use the famous swords Colada and Tizon, for they superstitiously dreaded the trenchancy of these marvellous weapons, and bitterly repented that they had restored them. Alfonso, however, refused to listen to this appeal.

“Ye have swords of your own,” he said brusquely. “Let them suffice you, and see that you wield them like men, for, believe me, there will be no shortcoming on the side of the Campeador.”

The trumpets sounded and the Cid’s three champions leapt upon their impatient destriers, first having made the sign of the Cross upon their saddles. The Infantes of Carrión also mounted, but none so blithely. The marshals or heralds who were to decide the rules of the combat, and give judgment in case of dispute, took their places. Then said King Alfonso: “Hear what I say, Infantes of Carrión. This combat ye should have fought at Toledo, but ye would not, so I have brought these three cavaliers in safety to the land of Carrión. Take your right; seek no wrong: who attempts it, ill betide him.”

The description of the scene that follows has more than once been compared with Chaucer’s description of the combat between Palamon and Arcite in The Knight’s Tale, and, as will be seen, a resemblance certainly exists.9

And now the marshals quit the lists and leave them face to face;

Their shields are dressed before their breasts, their lances are in place.

Each charger’s flank now feels the spur, each helm is bending low,

The earth doth shake as horse and man hurl them upon the foe.

The echo of their meeting is a sound of meikle dread,

And all who hear the deadly shock count them as good as sped.

The false Ferrando and Bermuez strike lance on either’s shield,

The Infant’s spear goes through the boss, but the stout shaft doth yield

And splinters ere the point can pass thorough the other’s mail.

But Pero’s shaft struck home, nor did the seasoned timber fail;

It pierced Ferrando’s corselet and sank into his breast,

And to the trampled ground there drooped the Infant’s haughty crest.

Bermuez then drew Tizon’s bright blade; ere ever he could smite

The Infant yielded him and cried, “Thou hast the victor’s right.”

While this combat was proceeding Antolinez and the other Infante came together. Each of their lances smote the other’s shield and splintered. Then, drawing their swords, they rode fiercely against one another. Antolinez, flourishing Colada, struck so mightily at Diego that the good blade shore its way clean through the steel plates of his casque, and even cut half the hair from Diego’s head. The terrified princeling wheeled his courser and fled, but Antolinez pursued him with mock fury and struck him across the shoulders with the flat of his sword. So had the hound the chastisement of cowards. As he felt the blade across his withers Diego shrieked aloud and spurred past the boundaries of the lists, thus, according to the rules of the combat, admitting himself vanquished.

When the trumpets of the pursuivants sounded, Muño Gustioz and Asur González ran swiftly and fiercely together. The point of Asur’s spear glanced off Muño’s armour, but that of the Cid’s champion pierced the shield of his opponent and drove right through his breast, so that it stuck out a full fathom between the shoulder-blades. The haughty Asur fell heavily to the ground, but had enough of life left in him to beg for mercy.

King Alfonso then duly credited the Cid’s champions with the victory, and without loss of time they returned to Valencia to acquaint their master with the grateful news that his honour had been avenged.

Shortly afterward the espousals of the Cid’s daughters to the noble Infantes of Navarre and Aragon were celebrated with much pomp. The Poema del Cid, however, concludes as abruptly as it begins:

So in Navarre and Aragon his daughters both did reign,

And princes of his blood to-day sit on the thrones of Spain.

Greater and greater grew his name in honour and in worth;

At last upon a Pentecost he passed away from earth.

Upon him be the grace of Christ, Whom all of us adore.

Such is the story, gentles, of the Cid Campeador.