The Cid Campeador: A Historical Romance

by Antonio de Trueba

The Moors had learned that the invincible Christian army was advancing on them; to return to Portugal was the same as to go straight to meet them; to proceed towards the kingdom of Toledo was to expose themselves to be driven back from the frontier, for they knew that Almenon would not wish to lose the friendship of Don Fernando by admitting them into his dominions. The only thing that was open to them was to proceed straight on, pass through the centre of Castile and cross the Moncayo, with the object of taking refuge in some one of the many small Moorish states into which Aragon was then divided; they adopted, therefore, that latter course, and continued their march into the interior of Castile, increasing on their way the stores of rich booty which they had taken in Estremadura. As they were, however, a day's march in advance of the Cid, it was not possible for him to overtake them as soon as he desired. Both armies, however, were now in Castile; and Rodrigo, fearing that the Moors might be able to carry out their intention of getting into Aragon before he could overtake them, determined to make a final effort, an almost superhuman one, in order to fall on them and wrench from them the numerous captives whom they were carrying off, and punish their audacity and their cruelties. At last he overtook them, between Atienza and San Esteban de Gormaz, and a battle commenced, furious on both sides.

The army of the Cid, though having the advantage in valour, was less numerous than that of the enemy; however, the circumstance of their being on their native soil, and their courage, which had been increased by their efforts for so long a time to attack the invaders, were elements which were much in their favour. The Moors resolved to defend their booty at all costs, for it was so valuable that they would leave nothing undone in order to retain it. The Castilian squadrons threw themselves several times against the infidels, but were each time repulsed, with heavy loss on both sides. The Cid was always in the very front, spurring on his steed to close with his adversaries, and at his side could be seen Fernan, although to keep up with Babieca, which flew at the slightest touch of the spur, he had almost to flay the sides of Overo.

"On, on! St. James of Compostela!" cried the Cid, burning with anger at seeing the impotence of all his efforts, and preparing for a fresh charge. "We shall all die on those fields of our native land rather than lose the name of Invincibles which Castile has given us, for it is better to die fighting than to live flying. Do you not hear, cavaliers, those lamentations which rise from the enemies' camp? They come from the unhappy Christians whom those infidels drag on with them, loaded with chains and trampled under the hoofs of their chargers. We are their only hope; they trust in us, they call down on our heads the blessing of God, as we have come to fight bravely for them in order to save them from captivity, and they should justly curse us if they saw us turning back like cowards. We conquered in Portugal, shall we be defeated in Castile—in Castile, where the ashes of our brave forefathers repose, where the eyes of a mother, of a wife, or of a beloved maiden look upon our deeds? Onward, cavaliers! follow me, conquer or die with me; for I will conquer, or die as a brave man!"

When he had pronounced those last words the Cid rushed on the enemy, and with him all his cavaliers, shouting enthusiastically, proving the influence which the words and the example of their brave leader exercised on those sturdy warriors.

The hostile army was divided into two bodies, stationed within ten crossbow-shots of each other. At the same time both were attacked by the Christians, whose squadrons got separated when the charge was made; the Cid closing with the Moors to the right, whilst Martin Antolinez, to whom he had confided his standard, attacked those on the left. Both bodies received the Christians with the points of their lances and the keen edges of their cimeters; the division attacked by the Cid was not able to resist the charge, and took to flight in the greatest disorder, followed and cut down by the Castilians.

The Cid and his followers had already disappeared in the distance, pursuing the enemy, blinded by fury and desirous of exterminating them, and as yet Martin Antolinez had not succeeded in breaking the Moorish squadron, which was stationed to the left. The fight was becoming every moment more obstinate and bloody, and its result was becoming more and more doubtful. The soldiers of Antolinez, instead of gaining ground were rather losing it, as the Moors, seeing themselves deprived of all chance of aid, were now fighting with the desperation of those who, having lost all hope of saving themselves, desire to savour death with the pleasure of vengeance. The Christians, rendered more courageous by that strenuous resistance, broke at last into the midst of their enemies, without thinking of the risk of such an undertaking, and then the Moors, availing themselves of a rapid and skilful piece of strategy, surrounded them on all sides, and the conflict became still more furious. The Christians were horribly cut up by the sword strokes, and all their strength was vainly expended against that circle of hostile lances which encircled them, and which was closing round them closer and closer each moment; hope of escape was scarcely left to them, and the green standard of the Cid would soon be in the hands of his foes, although Martin Antolinez, who held it aloft in one hand, whilst he brandished his sword with the other, cutting down an enemy at each stroke, was resolved to save it or to die under its shadow. Fatigue and want of breath was beginning to tell on the Christian cavaliers. Antolinez cast from time to time a rapid glance across the plain to see if assistance of any kind was coming to them; the plain, however, was deserted, and he only could see the line of corpses which the Moors, pursued by the Cid, were leaving behind them, and several captives who had succeeded in escaping from their captors during the battle. Those were wandering about, still manacled and uncertain as to the fate which might befall them. A multitude of his enemies composed the circle around Antolinez, attacking him with fury, endeavouring to capture the standard. The brave man of Burgos defended himself with the most stubborn courage, but his blood was staining the equipments of his horse; Alvar, Fañez Minaya, and other cavaliers were fighting vainly to free him from his enemies.

"Cowards!" cried out Antolinez to the Moors. "A brave deed, forsooth, is yours—twenty of you to attack one cavalier! Fight with me, not one against one, but four against one, and you will see whether my sword pierce not your hearts, e'er you shall drag from my hand the standard of my Cid!"

Thus speaking, he showered furious blows on his enemies, the number of whom was increasing every moment. At last a cimeter struck the arm which held up the standard, and it fell from his hand notwithstanding all the efforts he made to retain it, for the cut was terrible. The despair of Antolinez then reached its height: the good cavalier, rendered incapable of guiding his steed, spurred it on furiously and dashed into the midst of the enemy, making a bloody opening through them.

But behold, when the Castilians were almost completely vanquished, a loud cry was heard in the distance, and about fifty horsemen were seen rushing towards the combat with the fleetness of the wind.

"St. James! St. James!" they shouted, and that cry was full of terror for the Moors, and full of hope for Martin Antolinez and his men.