Calavar; or, The Knight of The Conquest, A Romance of Mexico

by Robert Montgomery Bird

  CHAPTER LXIV.

  What Alvarado had reported of Don Amador was true. The neophyte averred,that, dead or alive,--a spectre or a creature of flesh and blood,--thesteed, bestridden by the sable phantom, and urged with such fury againstthe footmen, was neither less nor more than his own good beast, Fogoso;and he declared, with even more impetuosity, as Don Pedro had related,that the figure, descending the opposite hill, was the knight ofCalavar, on his ancient war-horse,--an apparition, perhaps, but no St.James,--unless this heavenly patron had condescended to appear in thelikeness of a knight so valiant and so pious. Strange fancies beset him,and so great was his impatience to resolve the marvel, that he scarcewaited to behold the general balance his good spear, before he turnedhis horse, and spurred furiously backward.

  Meanwhile, the black horseman descended with such violence upon thefootmen, as threatened their instant destruction, his fierce eyes, asthe Christians thought, gleaming with the fires of hell; so that,notwithstanding the sudden relief coming in the person of the supposedsaint, they were seized with horror, and gave way before him. At themoment when he rushed among them, uttering what seemed the _Lelilee_ ofanother land, he was encountered by his celestial opponent, whose strongvoice shouted out--"God and St. John! and down with thee, paynim demon!"

  The shock of two such steeds, both of great weight, each bearing a mancased in thick armour, each urged on by the impetus of descent from thehills, and meeting, midway, in a narrow valley, was tremendous. At themoment of encounter, the sable rider perceived, for the first time, hisopponent;--he checked his steed suddenly, and flung up his lance, as ifto avoid a contest. But the precaution came too late--his rising lancestruck the casque of his adversary, tearing it off, and revealing thegrim visage and grizzly locks of the knight of Calavar; while, at thesame moment, the spear of Don Gabriel, aimed with as much skill asdetermination, smote the enemy on the lower part of the corslet, andpiercing it as a buckler of ice, penetrated, at once, to the bowels andspine. The shock that unseated the riders, was shared by the steeds, andhorse and man rolled together on the earth.

  The loud cry of "Calavar! the Penitent Knight! the valiant Don Gabriel!"set up by the bewildered and awe-struck infantry, reached the ears ofthe novice. He spurred on with new ardour, and reaching the footmen justas they divided in pursuit of the flying barbarians, he sprung from hishorse, and beheld his kinsman lying senseless, and as it appeared tohim, lifeless, in the arms of the wounded Baltasar.

  "In the name of heaven, and Amen! what is this? and what do I see?" hecried. "Oh heaven, is this my knight?--and doth he live?"

  "He lives," said Baltasar, "and he feels as of flesh and blood; and yetdid he die on the lake-side. God forgive us our sins! for neither heavennor hell will hold the dead!"

  Just at that moment, the knight opened his eyes, and rolled them on hiskinsman,--but his kinsman regarded him not. A low moaning voice of onenever to be forgotten, fell on the ear of the novice, as he gazed on hisfriend; and starting up, he beheld, hard by, the page Jacinto, lying onthe body of Abdalla, from whose head he had torn the helm, and nowstrove, with feeble fingers, to remove the broken and blood-stainedcorslet.

  "Jacinto!--Leila!" cried Amador, with a voice of rapture, flinginghimself at her side, (for now, though the garments of escaupil stillconcealed the figure of the Moorish maid, the disguise could becontinued no longer.) The joy of the cavalier vanished, for the maidenreplied only with lamentations; while the Zegri fixed upon him an eye,in which the stony hardness of death was mingled with the fires ofhuman passion.

  "Place my head upon thine arm, cavalier!" said Abdalla, faintly, "andlet me look upon him who has slain me."

  "Oh, my father! my father!" cried the Moorish girl.

  "God forbid that thou shouldst die, even for the sake of the maiden Ilove," exclaimed Amador, eagerly, supporting his head. "Thou art a Wali,a Christian, and the father of her that dwells in my heart. Live,therefore; for though thou have neither land nor people, neither homenor friends, neither brother nor champion, yet am I all to thee; for Icrave the love of thy daughter."

  The maiden sobbed, and heard not the words of the cavalier; but thedying Moor eyed her with a look of joy, and then turning his gaze uponAmador, said,--

  "God be thy judge, as thou dealest truly with her, who, although theoffspring of kings, is yet an orphan, landless, homeless, and friendlesson the earth."

  "I swear to thee," said the novice,--"and I protest----"

  "Protest me nothing: hearken to my words, for they are few; the angel ofdeath calls to me to come, and my moments fly from me like theblood-drops," said the Zegri. "Until the day, when I dreamed thou wertslumbering in the lake, I knew not of this that hath passed between ye.Had it been known to me, perhaps this death that comes to me, might nothave come; for, what I did, I did for the honour and weal of my child,knowing that, in the hand of Spaniards, she was in the power ofoppressors and villains. That I have struck for revenge, is true; I haveshed the blood of Castilians and rejoiced, for therein I reckoned me thevengeance of Granada. Yet, had it been apparent to me, that the feeblemaid, who, besides myself, knew no other protector of innocence in theworld, could have claimed the love of an honourable cavalier, andenjoyed it without the shame of disguise and menial occupation, then hadI submitted to my fate, and locked up in the darkness of my heart, thememory of the Alpujarras."

  "Who speaks of the Alpujarras?" cried the knight of Rhodes, staringwildly around; "who speaks of the Alpujarras?"

  "_I!_" said the Moor, with a firm voice, bending his eye on Don Gabriel,and striving, though in vain, for his nether limbs were paralyzed, toturn his body likewise; "_I_ Gabriel of Calavar, _I_ speak of theAlpujarras; and good reason have I to speak, and thou to listen; for Iwas of the mourning, and thou of the destroyers."

  "Pity me, heaven!" cried the knight, staring on the Moor, in thegreatest disorder. "I have seen thee, and yet I know thee not."

  "Rememberest thou not the field of Zugar, and the oath sworn on thecross of a blood-stained sword, by the river-side?"

  "Hah!" cried Don Gabriel; "dost thou speak of mine oath?--mine oath toAlharef?"

  "And the town of Bucarcs, among the hills?" continued the Zegri, loudly,and with a frown made still more ghastly by approaching death; "dostthou remember the false and felon blow that smote the friend ofZugar,--and that, still falser and fouler, which shed the blood ofZayda, the beloved of the Alpujarras?"

  As the Wali spoke, the knight, as if uplifted by some supernaturalpower, rose to his feet, and approached the speaker, staring at him witheyes of horror. At the name of Zayda, he dropt on his knees crying,--

  "Miserere mei, Deus! I slew her! and thou that art Alharef, thoughstruck down by the same sword, yet livest thou again to upbraid me!"

  "Struck down by thy steel, yet not then, but now!" exclaimed the Moor."I live again, but not to upbraid thee--I am Alharef-ben-Ismail, and Iforgive thee."

  At this name, already made of such painful interest to the novice, hisastonishment was so great, that, as he started, he had nearly sufferedthe dying prince (for such were the Walis of Moorish Spain,) to fall tothe earth. He caught him again in his arms, and turned his amazed eyefrom him to Don Gabriel, who, trembling in every limb, still stared witha distracted countenance on that of his ancient preserver.

  "I am Alharef, and, though dying, yet do I live," went on the Zegri,interrupted as much by the wails of his daughter, as by his ownincreasing agonies. "The sword wounded, but it slew not--it slew not_all_--Zayda fell, yet live I, to tell thee, thou art forgiven. Rashman! rash and most unhappy! thine anger was unjust; and therefore didstthou shed the blood of the good, the pure, the loving and the beautiful,and thereby cover thyself, and him that was thy true friend, withmisery. When thou soughtest the love of Zayda, she was the betrothed ofAlharef. Miserable art thou, Gabriel of Calavar! and therefore have Iforgiven thee; miserable art thou, for I have watched thee by night, andlooked upon thee by day, and seen that the asp was at work in thy bosom,and that the fire did not slumb
er. Great was thy sin, but greater is thygrief; and therefore doth Zayda, who is in heaven, forgive thee."

  "She pardons me not," murmured Don Gabriel, not a moment relaxing thesteadfast eagerness of his stare. "At the pyramid of Cholula, on theanniversary of her death, she appeared to me in person, and, O God! withthe beauty of her youth and innocence, yet robed in the blackness ofanger!"

  "And have thine eyes been as dark as the looks of the lover?" criedAlharef. "Stand up, Zayda, the child of Zayda! or turn thy face uponCalavar, that his delusion may leave him."

  As he spoke, he lifted feebly the arm which embraced his child, removedthe cap, and parted the thick clustering locks from her forehead.Still, however, did she look rather the effeminate boy, upon whomCalavar had been accustomed to gaze, than a woman;--for there is noeffort of imagination stronger than that required to transform, in themind, the object which preserves an unchanging appearance to the eye.Nevertheless, though such a transformation could not be imagined by DonGabriel, there came, as he wistfully surveyed the pallid features of themaiden, strange visions and memories, which, every moment, associated astronger resemblance between the living and the dead. He trembled stillmore violently, heavy dew-drops started from his brow, and he gazed uponthe weeping girl as upon a basilisk.

  "Wherefore," continued the Zegri, speaking rapidly, but with brokenaccents,--"when I had resolved to fly to the pagans, as being men whom,I thought, God had commissioned me to defend from rapine and slavery. Iresolved to take such advantage of their credulity, as might best enableme to befriend them,--I say, wherefore I resolved this, I need notspeak. I protected my child, by recommending her to their superstition;and, had I fallen dead in the streets, still did I know, that reverenceand fear would wait upon the steps of one whom I delivered to them as amessenger from heaven. In this light, I revealed her to the princes atthe temple, when----"

  "It is enough!" muttered Don Gabriel, with the deep and agitated tonesof sorrow; "I wake from a dream.--God forgive me! and thou art of theblood of Zayda? the child of her whom I slew?--Alharef forgives me; hesays, that Zayda forgives me; but thou that art her child, dost _thou_forgive me?"

  "Father! dear father, she doth!" cried Amador, gazing with awe on thealtered countenance of Alharef, and listening with grief to the moans ofZayda. "O holy padre!" he exclaimed, perceiving the priest Olmedorising, at a little distance, from the side of a man, to whom he hadbeen offering the last consolations of religion,--"Hither, father, forthe love of heaven, and absolve the soul of a dying Christian!"

  "Is there a priest at my side?" said the Zegri, reviving from whatseemed the lethargy of approaching dissolution, and looking eagerly intothe face of the good Olmedo. Then, turning to Amador, he said solemnly,though with broken words, "Thou lovest the orphan Zayda?"

  "Heaven be my help, as I do," replied the cavalier.

  "And thou, Gabriel, that wert my friend, and standest in the light ofthis young man's parent,--dost thou consent that he shall espouse thedaughter of Zayda, saved, while a piteous infant, by Christian men, fromout the house of death?"

  The knight bowed his head on his breast, and strove to answer, but, inhis agitation, could not speak a word.

  "Quick, father! for heaven's sake, quick!" cried Alharef, eagerly; "letme, ere I die, know that my child rests on the bosom of a husband.Quick! for the sand runs fast; and there is that in my bosom, whichtells me of death. Love and honour thy bride; for thou hast the last andnoblest relic of Granada. Take her--thou wert her protector from harshwords and the violence of blows. Quick, father, quick! quick, for mineeyes are glazing!"

  The strangely timed and hurried ceremony was hastened by theexclamations of Alharef; and the words of nuptial benediction were, atlast, hurriedly pronounced.

  "I see thee not, my child!" muttered the Moor, immediately after. "Myblessing to thee, Amador,--Gabriel, thou art forgiven.--Thine arm roundmy neck, Zayda; thy lips to mine. Would that I could see thee!--Get theeto Granada, with thy lord--to the tomb of thy mother--I will followthee--Tarry not in this land of blood--I will be with thee; we have apower yet in the hills----"

  "Let the cross rest on thy lips, if thou diest a Christian," said thefather.

  The novice drew the maiden aside; the Zegri pressed the sacred symbol tohis lips, but still they muttered strangely of Granada.

  "I am of the faith of Christ, and Mahomet I defy. My people shall befollowers of the cross, but they shall sweep away the false Spaniard, asthe wind brushes away the leaves.--The Emir of Oran is prepared--theking of Morocco will follow.--A power in the hills--Ah!--We will creep,by night, to Granada--a brave blow!--Africa shall follow--Ha, ha!--Seizethe gates! storm the Alhambra!--but spare life--kill no women!--RememberZayda!----"

  With such wild words, accompanied by the faint cries of his daughter,the spirit of the Moor passed away, and Alharef-ben-Ismail lay dead inthe land of strangers.

  Don Gabriel uttered a deep groan, and fell across the feet of hisancient friend.

  At this moment, Cortes descended from his horse, and, followed by othercavaliers, stepped up to the lamenting group.

  "And Calavar, the valiant, has been murdered by this traitor Moor!" hecried.

  "Senor Don Hernan," said the novice, sternly, and as he spoke, risingfrom the earth, and folding the Moorish maiden to his heart, "you speakof him who was Alharef-ben-Ismail, a Wali of Granada, driven by theinjustice of our companions, and in part, by your own harshness, to takearms against you. As one that am now his representative, and, as I maysay, his son, I claim for him the honourable burial of a Christiansoldier; and, after that, will hold myself prepared, with sword andspear, to defend his memory from insult."