Читать книгу The Knight Of Leon: - Sylvanus Cobb - Страница 6

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DURING the day the knight of Leon did little else than look about the city in company with his honest esquire. It was no unusual thing for Christians to be seen in the city, and the count and his companion attracted only passing notice from the Moors. Great preparations were going on for the tournament that was to come off the next day. It was to be holden in a large square beyond the hill upon which stood the Alhambra, and thither the knight bent his steps towards the close of the day.

The Granadan king, Mohammed VI., gave but little attention to the manly sports that so well suited the tastes of his subjects, and, in fact, he gave but little attention to anything save his own pleasure and sensual comfort, with just enough of mental and physical activity to keep his throne from falling beneath him. The present anticipated tournament had been agreed to by the king at the urgent solicitation of many of his best knights, and he had agreed not only to be present at its passage, but he was to superintend it.

When Charles of Leon returned to his hotel in the evening, he had resolved to attend the tournament on the following day.

"But will it be well?" queried Pedro.

"And how can it be evil?" asked the count.

"I'll tell you. You know you are counted the best lance in Leon. Now if you enter the list to-morrow, you may come off the victor, and, by St. Dominic, that wouldn't suit these hot blooded Moors."

"You take it wrongly, Pedro. There are good knights in Granada, and they will not prove themselves so mean as to turn enemies against one who proved their better in the use of arms. No, no, good Pedro, don't fear on that account, for I assure you all will be well."

"Well, just as you please," returned Pedro; and he spoke in a dubious manner, and shortly afterwards he set about preparing his master's armor.

The next morning was bright and fair. At an early hour the people began to flock to the spot where the tournament was to take place, and at ten o'clock the king entered the enclosure and took his seat. The trumpets sounded a furious blast, and the jousting began. For two hours the sport continued, and Ben Hamed, the Alcalde of Granada, stood the victor. He was a subtle, powerful knight, and he swang his spear aloft, and vauntingly challenged all opponents. Two more Moorish knights appeared against him; but, one after the other, they were vanquished and then more proudly than ever did Ben Hamed swing his spear aloft.

Charles of Leon pushed his horse through the crowd that were collected outside of the paling, but ere he reached it he caught the sound of his own name pronounced near to his aide.

"Beware! Make not an enemy of the Alcalde!"

The knight turned his head, and he saw Abdalla limping away through the crowd. He knew it was the same Abdalla he had picked up by the roadside, though he looked somewhat differently. His hair and beard were jet black, and he looked many years younger. The voice, however, the count knew, and he knew the countenance, too. The strange Moor was soon out of sight, and the count again pushed towards the paling. His soul was set upon a joust with the haughty, defying Moor, and he was not to be bent from his purpose.

"What ho, there! Here comes a Christian knight to give thee battle Ben Hamed," exclaimed the king, as Charles of Leon entered the lists.

The alcalde turned his flashing eyes upon the new comer, and proudly drawing back he awaited the Christian's approach.

"What seek ye here?" cried Ben Hamed.

"To give thee a friendly joust," returned Charles; "that is, if the lists be open to me."

"Of course they are open, if you be a true knight," said the king.

"I am a true knight of Leon, and this day shall prove it, though I may go down before the lance of the alcalde; yet if I bear me at all before one whose prowess has been so well proved, you will know me for a knight."

At the first part of this speech Ben Hamed frowned, but at its close he looked upon the Christian with a half scornful expression as he jauntingly balanced his lance in his hand.

"Go take your ground," he said.

"Shall it be with lance and shield?" asked Charles.

"Yes."

The count rode back to the paling where Pedro was stationed, and took his shield. From one of the marshals he received a round-headed spear, and then the trumpet sounded. Charles of Leon was habited the same as we saw him upon the road, and his appearance attracted the attention of all. His horse seemed eager for the onset and he pranced in his instinctive pride.

Again the heralds sounded the trumpet, and Charles give his steed the rein. The Moor and the Christian met. Ben Hamed sat like a rock in his saddle, while the count was jostled, but he lost not his balance. In an instant Charles saw and understood the alcalde's subtle play. With a movement so quick that it was almost imperceptible, and one that must have required long practice for its perfection, the Moor had swung his spear-head across the eyes of his adversary's horse with a circular sweep before he brought it to its final poise; but the Christian determined that it should not be done again.

It was with a confident air that Ben Hamed turned his horse for the second joust, and when the trumpet sounded, he set boldly forward. Again the riders met, but Ben Hamed passed not, for the knight of Leon's lance-head struck him full in the throat and hurled him to the ground. There was a low murmur ran around among the spectators, and a careful observer would have seen that there was much satisfaction felt at the result of the last joust; but the people dared not give boisterous speech to their feelings, for the alcalde was feared.

As Ben Hamed sprang to his feet, there was fierce passion in his features, and for a moment he was speechless. But soon he found his tongue, and seizing his horse's rein, he turned to Charles of Leon, and throwing his shield upon the ground, he shouted:

"Down with your lance and shield! I'll have at thee now with the cimeter. You shall show your prowess to better advantage ere I have done with thee."

"The sword is not a weapon for a joust," returned Charles. "It is too dangerous for sport."

"Ha, ha! and is the Christian dog in fear?"

This was spoken by the exasperated Moor in a loud, defiant, bitter tone, and sent the rich blood coursing quickly through the Christian's veins.

"The Christian does not fear," he returned, in a proud tone.

"Then draw your sword and throw away all else," exclaimed the alcalde, as he mounted his horse and drew his bright cimeter.

"If the king will hold me clear of the consequences I will meet you."

"Ben Hamed, you had better give over the trial, and go back to the lance," said the monarch.

"No, no,—the sword it shall be!" cried the alcalde.

"Then the Christian knight shall be free from all harm, save such as he meets at the hands of his antagonist. Let the signal be given."

The trumpet sounded, and Charles of Leon drew his sword. It was a keen weapon, straight and double-edged, with the usual cross hilt. The Moor met him, and some dozen blows were exchanged without effect; but at length Charles wounded his antagonist upon the shoulder. Ben Hamed saw that he had a superior to deal with, and he determined to ride him down. To this end he drew in his reins, and at a word his horse reared, and would have struck his fore feet directly upon the Christian's body; but Charles saw the movement, and he not only avoided it, but he took advantage of it. His own horse was well trained, and he made the noble animal perform a leap that set the Moor at fault. As Ben Hamed's horse was reared proudly upon his hind legs, the horse of the Christian sprang quickly against his haunch, and both Moor and beast went tumbling upon the ground.

With a fearful oath Ben Hamed sprang to his feet, and placing one foot upon the prostrate body of his horse, he struck furiously at the Christian; but Charles of Leon soon ended the conflict, for with a blow that seemed like the lightning's leap he struck the upraised blade of the Moor's cimeter near the hilt and broke it in twain.

The shouts of the multitude could no longer be restrained, and as they broke upon the air, the alcalde was utterly overcome by the rage and mortification that had seized him. His horse was so much sprained that it was with difficulty the animal could be set upon his feet, and then the beast limped away from the lists.

For fifteen minutes Charles of Leon kept the lists, and no one appeared against him.

"Shall we pronounce the Christian the victor?" at length said the king, as the repeated calls of the herald remained unanswered.

"The Christian cannot receive the scarf," cried Ben Hamed, who had taken a place near the royal seat, where a doctor was dressing the wound upon his shoulder.

The king hesitated, and he showed by his manner that he liked not to bestow the badge upon the Christian.

"The Christian is a true knight, and knighthood should know no foreign blood," cried an old Moslem warrior, who sat near the king.

"The Christian is the true victor," cried a dozen voices.

"Then he shall receive the reward," said the king. Then turning to a fair young being who sat near him, he added: "Zehra, if you deem the Christian worthy, give him the badge."

It was a lovely girl to whom the king spoke—one who had just blushed into womanhood with all the roses of beautiful youth still clustering about her. She waved her hand to Charles of Leon, and he came near to her seat and knelt before her.

"Sir knight," she said, with a sweet smile, "to you I award the gift that has thus fallen to my bestowal. While it remains in your possession, forget not the duty you owe to your honorable knighthood, nor her who bestowed it."

The scarf was of blue silk, richly wrought with threads of gold, and as Zehra spoke, she threw it over the knight's shoulders. As Charles of Leon arose to his feet, he gazed for a moment into the features of the fairy being. She smiled upon him, and she blushed while she smiled.

When the young Christian turned from the spot, he felt in his heart that he could never forget the fair donor of the badge he had won. Her countenance had burst upon his sight as breaks the view of the distant spring upon the thirsty traveller of the desert. He did not notice the look of Ben Hamed, nor did he see how the king was moved. He saw only the bright beams of Zehra's loveliness, and he forgot that life had its losses as well as its gains.

"By San Dominic," uttered Pedro, as he rode away from the scene of the tournament with his master, "you have made one enemy, at least."

"How so, Pedro?"

"The alcalde will never forgive you."

"Then he is not a good knight."

"You are blind, sir Charles. Didn't you ever know of wicked knights in Leon?"

"Yes."

"Then you may expect to find some here. San Jago, but it didn't seem very hard for the girl to decide against her father."

"Father! What do you mean?" uttered the knight, with a sudden start.

"Why, didn't you know that Zehra was the alcalde's daughter!"

"No."

"She is, then."

"Are you sure of this?"

"Certainly. I heard the people speaking of her before the combat was ended."

Charles of Leon rode on for some distance in silence. He seemed much moved by what he had heard, and disappointment was plainly written upon his brow. When he reached his hotel he put off his armor, and as soon as he was alone he set about looking over a number of papers that he took from his bosom, each of which bore the royal seal of Leon.