Calavar Part 51

The sunbeam played, unregarded, on his withered cheeks, and flickered over a heap of rusted armour, both of man and horse, which lay hard by, s.h.i.+ning, also, with a fierce l.u.s.tre, upon what appeared a scarlet surcoat, hung, like a banner, on the point of a knightly lance, which rested against the side of the cliff.

Disease, as well as age, had furrowed the cheeks, and wasted the form of the slumberer; famine seemed to have been at work, as well as all other privations incident to a habitation in the desert; and there was, in his whole appearance, such an air of extreme and utter misery, as would have moved the pity of any beholder. Nevertheless, he slept on, regardless of the roaring fall, and heedless of the fierce sunbeam, in such tranquillity as augured, at least, a momentary suspension of suffering.

As the sun stole up to the meridian, another human creature was suddenly added to the scene. The browsing war-horse p.r.i.c.ked his ears, and snorted, as if to do the duty of a faithful sentinel, and convey to his master a note of alarm, as certain dried branches crackled among the rocks of the wall, and a stone, loosened as by a footstep, fell, rattling, down their sides, and buried itself in the pool, at the base of the fall. But the anchorite, for such the solitude of his dwelling, the poverty of his raiment, and, more than all, the little rugged cross which he embraced, caused him to appear, heard not these sounds; he slept on, lulled by the accustomed roar of the water-fall; and the steed was left alone, to watch the approach of the stranger.

Presently, he was seen dragging himself up the rocks, by the aid of a drooping bough; and when he had reached their top, he rested for a moment, still clinging to the branch, as if worn out with toil, as was, indeed, made apparent by the youth and feebleness of his appearance. He cast a haggard and uninterested eye on the romantic torrent leaping and foaming at his feet, and seemed to hesitate whether he should descend into the prison-like enclosure, or retrace his steps, and retreat as he had come. But, suddenly, his gaze fell upon the steed, and he started with surprise at a sight so unexpected. The sagacious animal whinnied loudly, as if with recognition; and the youth, devoutly crossing himself, looked, with an agitation that denoted terror, on the red garment, the cross, and the human figure that still lay sleeping, or, perhaps, as he thought, dead, under its holy shadow. Then, as if resolved, he hastened to descend from the rugged fragments, and seeking where he might safely cross the brook, over the stones that obstructed its bed, he at last stood at the side of the good steed, which snuffed at him a moment with joy, and, then, gambolling about a little, fell to cropping the plants again, satisfied that the comer was a friend.

The youth stole up tremblingly to the side of the sleeper, and seemed shocked at his emaciated and neglected appearance. He stooped as if to awake him, and then started back, wringing his hands, in fear and grief.

He bent over him again;--a smile pa.s.sed like a beam over the countenance of the recluse, and a murmur escaped his lips, of which the youth caught only a few broken syllables:

"Though I shed thy blood," were the words he distinguished, "yet did I not aim at thee; and, therefore, hast thou forgiven me, for the sin was the sin of frenzy. Thou pardonest me, too, Alharef, for thou art, also, of the angels. It is good to walk with thee through the seats of bliss."

A tear fell upon the cheek of the knight Calavar,--for it was, indeed, he; but it fell like the spray-drop, or the gentle dew; and it was not until the hand of the youth touched his shoulder, that he awoke and rose feebly to his feet.

"Whoever thou art," said the unfortunate devotee, "thou breakest the only dream of happiness that hath visited my slumbers, for long and many years, and callest me from the paradise that filled me with bliss, to the earth which is the wheel whereon I am broken--Miserere mei, Deus!"

"Alas, my lord!"

"Art thou sent back to bid me prepare?" cried Don Gabriel, starting wildly, at the voice of the intruder. "Lo! I have flung me off the harness of war, and devoted me to penance in the wilderness, giving my body to sleep on the earth and in caves, drinking of the wild floods, and eating of the tough roots, with the earth-worm; while I sleep, my heart is scourged within me; whilst I wake, I pray,--and I pray that I may sleep for ever. Know, therefore, Jacinto! thou that dwellest in paradise! that I am ready, and that I thank heaven, I am called, at last; for weary has been my life, and long my repentance."

"Alas, my lord, I live like thyself; and I call upon thee, that thou mayest continue to live. I thought, indeed, that thou wert dead, and so thought, and yet think, thy friends,--who are now in great peril."

"G.o.d s.n.a.t.c.hed me from the hands of the heathen," said the knight, "and brought me to this place, that I might seek for peace. For, oh! my heart was but filled with scorpions, that stung me day and night, and my head strewn with coals, ever burning and tormenting, whilst I sat in the infidel city, and remembered how he that hath been my son, was slain by murderers in the streets, because he loved me! All that loved me have perished, and (wo betide the hand that struck, and is not yet withered!) two under mine own steel. Yea, Alharef, thou art remembered! and, Zayda, thou art not forgotten! Then came the blow to thee, dear seraph! and thou wert carried off by the angry spirit of Alharef, who defied me at the palace-gate, and, in the temple-yard, raised me to my feet, and bade me think of Zayda. Verily, I remember her, and my heart is black with recollection! Then fell the bolt upon my boy,--he that was matchless in honour and love, peerless in war, incomparable in truth!--Would that the barbarous knives had struck my bosom, instead of thine, Amador! would that thou wert now upon thy gallant bay, shaking thy lance, and shouting the cry of the Hospital, and I in thy place, mouldering in the streets of Mexico! I lay on my couch, whilst thou wert calling to me for aid; I slept while thou wert dying.--Cursed be thy foundations, pagan city!

ruin fall upon thy towers, havoc ride howling through thy palaces, and lamentations come up from thy lakes and gardens! for he that was the last and first, the loving and beloved, rots like a dog upon thy pavement!"

"n.o.ble and dear master," said Jacinto, "in this, at least, thou art mistaken. My dear lord, thy kinsman, perished not that day in the streets; for I myself did watch by his sick couch, and see him, after thou hadst departed, return in safety to the palace."

"Dost thou say so?--He died not in the streets? Praised be G.o.d, for this his goodness!" cried Don Gabriel, falling on his knees. "My sin, then, hath not been visited on the guileless and true! My son Amador yet liveth!"

He looked to the page, and now, for the first time, observed, as far as this could be seen through his thickly padded garments, that the form of Jacinto was greatly attenuated; his cheeks were hollow and colourless, and his countenance altered, as by some such grief as had been at work in his own bosom. He seemed, too, to be very feeble. But, if such were the appearances of sorrow on his visage, they a.s.sumed a yet more striking character of agony and despair, when the knight's words of joy fell on his ear. His face grew paler than death, he trembled like a linden leaf, and his lips scarcely obeyed their function, when he replied, with a faint and fruitless effort at calmness,--

"I will not deceive my lord; no, heaven be my stay! I will not deceive my lord. Though my friend,--my patron,--my protector,--the n.o.ble Amador,--fell not in the streets, but returned to his people, yet is his fate wrapped in mystery,--in darkness and in fear. That night, that dreadful night!--O heaven! the causey covered with men, shrieking and cursing, stabbing and rending! the lake choked with corses, and with dying men still contending, and suffocating, each in the grasp of a drowning foe!--But I think not of that, I think not of that!--Who lived?

who died? We searched for the body of my lord, but found it not: he was not with those they led to the pyramid; his corse floated not among the hundreds, which befouled the lake: yet did they discover his goodly war-horse on the water-side,--his surcoat was dragged from a ditch, among cannon, under whose heavy bulk lay many bodies, which the Indians strove to push up with poles--but my lord's body rose not among them.

And yet, he sleeps in the lake,--yes, he sleeps in the lake! for how could he escape that night, and I no more by his side?"

As Jacinto spoke, he wept and sobbed bitterly, giving himself up to despair. But not so the knight: he listened, somewhat bewildered, to the confused narration of an event, in which he had shared no part; but catching the idea, at last, and mingling it with another, the fruit of his very distempered mind, he said, quickly, and almost joyously,--

"Dry thy tears; for now I perceive that my son is not dead, but liveth; and straightway we will go forth, and seek him!" Jacinto regarded the knight with a melancholy look. He noticed the incredulity, and resumed, with much devout emphasis,--"But a moment since, before thou camest into this den, mine eyes were opened upon paradise; it was vouchsafed to me, who must never hope to enjoy such spectacle again,--no, _desdichado de mi_! never again, never again,--to look upon the golden city of G.o.d; wherein I walked, with all those whom, in my life, I had loved, and who were dead. There saw I, among the saints and seraphim, my father, who fell in arms at the sack of Alhama; my mother, who died giving me birth; together with all the friends of my childhood, who perished early: there, also, I beheld Alharef and Zayda, the murdered and the blest,--with all others that were truly dead. Now thou wilt see, how G.o.d opened mine eyes in this trance; for, though I wept thee, dear child, as truly believing thou wert deceased, yet thee I saw not among the blissful, where thou must have been, hadst thou been discarded from earth, as I thought thee. And I remember me, too, and great joy it is to remember, that my son Amador was not among those saints; for which reason, heaven makes it manifest to us, that he lives. Now, therefore, let us go forth from this desert, and seek him. Though mine eyes are sealed among these hills, and my feet stumble upon the rocks, yet will heaven point us out a path to Mexico!"

"Alas! my lord need not seek so far," said the page. "The pagans are now alone in the city, having driven out their enemies, with terrible slaughter.--Never more will the Spaniards return to it!"

"Ay, now, I remember me!" said the knight, catching up some of his battered armour, as he spoke. "This defence, that I had thought for ever rejected, must I again buckle on. I remember me, thou spokest of a night of retreat by the causeway, very dreadful and b.l.o.o.d.y. Ay! and thou saidst thou wert at Amador's side!--How was it, that thou wert taken from him, and didst yet live?"

"My father Abdalla," said Jacinto, sorrowfully, "my father, by chance, heard me cry at the ditch, when my lord, Don Amador, was gone; and he saved me in his canoe."

"Thy father? thy father, Abdalla?--I remember me of Abdalla," said the knight, touching his brow. "There is a strange mystery in Abdalla. I am told--that is, I heard from my poor Marco--that Abdalla, the Moor, did greatly abhor me, even to the seeking of my life."

"He wronged him!" said the page: "whatever was my father's hatred of my lord, he never sought to do him a wrong!"

"Strange!" muttered Don Gabriel; "thou acknowledgest he hated me, then?

Wherefore should he, whom I have not injured, hate me? And wherefore, after confiding thyself to my good keeping?"

"Let me not deceive my lord," said Jacinto, sadly, but firmly: "My father entrusted his child to him he hated, because he knew him just and honourable; and my father did receive great wrong, as well as other unhappy Moors, of my lord, in the Alpujarras----"

The knight dropped the dinted cuishes which he had s.n.a.t.c.hed up, and, clasping his hands wildly, exclaimed,--

"Miserere mei, Deus! my sin is inexpiable, and my torment endless; for, in the Alpujarras, did I slay him whom I had sworn to love, and deface, with a murderous sword, the loveliest of thine images!"

"Dear my lord," said Jacinto, shocked and grieved at his agitation; "forget this, for thy sin is not what thou thinkest, and it has been already forgiven thee. Zayda hath seen, from heaven, the greatness of thy grief, and she intercedes for thee with our Holy Mother."

"She follows me on earth, she comes to me in visions!" cried Don Gabriel, vehemently. "Rememberest thou not the night of Cholula? Then stood she before me, as thou dost; and, with face of snow and finger of wrath, she reminded me of my malefaction."

"My lord is deceived--this was no spectre, but a living woman," said Jacinto, hurriedly.

The knight stared, aghast.

"If I make it appear to my lord," continued the page, "that this was, indeed, no phantom sent to reproach, but a living creature, haply resembling her of whom he speaks, and, therefore, easily mistaken, in the gloom, for one of whom my lord thought, in his delirious moment,--will it not satisfy my lord, that he is not persecuted, but forgiven?"

"If thou canst speak aught to remove one atom and grain from this mountain of misery, which weighs upon my heart," said Calavar, earnestly, "I adjure thee that thou speak it. Many times have I thought that she whom I slew, stood at my side; but yet had I hopes, and a partial belief, that these were the visions of my disease; for my mind is sometimes very sorely distracted. What I saw at Cholula, was beyond such explication,--very clearly and vividly represented, and seen by me when my thoughts were not disordered."

"Let my lord be content, and know that this was a living creature, as I have said, and no apparition: let him do on his armour; and, by-and-by, all shall be revealed to him."

"Speak to me now," said the knight.

"Not now! not now!" interrupted Jacinto; "for, at this moment, the myriads of vengeful fiends who seek for the blood of my lord, Don Amador, if he be yet living, are rus.h.i.+ng upon the poor fugitives. Doth not my lord hear?--Hark!"

"'Tis a trumpet! it blasteth for a charge of horse!" cried Calavar, as the distant sound came echoing up the mountain, even over the roar of the fall.--The ancient war-horse heard the remembered note, and p.r.i.c.king his ears, neighed loudly and fiercely, running to a gap in the wall, as if to seek the contest, till recalled by the voice of his master.

"The infidels are then at hand, and they do battle with Christians?"

exclaimed Don Gabriel, the fire of chivalry again flas.h.i.+ng from his eye, and almost driving away the thought of Zayda. "Buckle me these straps, and see that thou art speedy; for this brooks not delay. G.o.d hath called me to this mountain, that I should be ready to do battle with the heathen, in defence of the holy cross, which is my sworn vow; and in the fulfilment of the same, I pray G.o.d that I may die.--Sound again, brave heart! smite me the G.o.dless fast and well; for presently I shall be with ye, striking for the faith!--Why, how thou loiterest, young knave! Be speedy, for my son Amador is with the Christian host; and, this day, heaven wills that I shall bring him succour."

"Alas! my lord," cried the page, "I would that I could give my life to aid him; but my fingers are skilless and feeble."

"Thou art a G.o.dly boy, and well do I love thee. Buckle me as thou canst, and care not to buckle well; for, in this fight, G.o.d will be my armour.

Buckle me, therefore, as thou canst; and, while thou art thus engaged, give me to know, what good angel brought thee to be my messenger."

"I followed my sire," said the trembling Jacinto, "with the forces of Mexico, that were sent to join the mountain bands, and cut off the fugitives; and, being commanded to rest me on the hill till the battle was over, I lost myself; which, with my great grief of heart, caused me to seek some nook wherein I might die. For truly, now, unless my lord Amador be living, I care not myself for life."

"The forces of Mexico! be they many? and these dogs of the hills, are they in numbers?"

"Countless as the drops of spray which the breeze flings over us," said Jacinto, with much perturbation, "so that nothing, but the goodness of G.o.d, can rescue the Spaniards out of their hands, and conduct them forth on the path so blocked up by their bodies. The Mexicans are many thousands in number, and triumphing still in the thought of their horrid victory on the lake. They swear that no Spaniard shall escape them, this day."

"I swear, myself," said Calavar, fiercely, "and heaven will listen to the vow of a Christian, though one sinful and miserable, that, this day, even they themselves, the G.o.dless pagans, shall be scattered as dust under our footsteps!--Quick--my war-coat! and now, my good lance, that hath drunk the blood of the heathen! _Santa Madre de Dios! Senora beatificada!_ the infidel shall fall under the cross, and the true believer rejoice in his slaughter!"

With such exclamations of fervour, the spirit of youthful days returning, at each blast of the trumpet, which was still winded at intervals, the knight ceased doing on his armour, and then, with Jacinto's feeble a.s.sistance, caparisoned his impatient steed. When this was done, he bade the page to follow him; and, riding through one of the many gaps in the colossal wall, began to descend the mountain.