The first-named of these places disputes with Montilla the honour of being the Roman city of Ulía, the only inland town of Bœtica that held out for Cæsar against the sons of Pompey, previous to his arrival in the country.[142] It appears doubtful[143] whether Ulía is mentioned by Pliny, but it is noticed in the Roman Itinerary (Gadibus Cordubam) as eighteen miles from Cordoba, a distance that agrees better with Montilla than Montemayor; indeed the former almost declares itself in the very name it yet bears, Montilla; the double l in Spanish having the liquid sound of li, making it a corruption of Mont Ulía.
At about four miles from Cordoba the Guadajoz, or river of Castro, is crossed by fording, and between it and the Guadalquivír the ground is broken by steep hills. The road falls into the Arrecife from Seville, on reaching the suburb on the left bank of the river.
We took up our abode at the Posada de la Mesangería; a particularly comfortable house, as Spanish inns go, that had been opened for the accommodation of the diligence travellers since my former visit to the city. The patio, ornamented with a bubbling fountain of icy-cold water, and shaded with a profusion of all sorts of rare creepers and flowering shrubs, afforded a cool retreat at all hours of the day; which, though we were in the month of October, was very acceptable.
Whilst seated at breakfast, under the colonnade that encompasses the court, the morning after our arrival, the master of the inn waited upon us to know if we required a valet de place during our sojourn at Cordoba, as a very intelligent old man, who spoke French like a native, and was in the habit of attending upon caballeros forasteros[144] in the above-named capacity, was then in the house, and begged to place his services at our disposition.
I replied, that having before visited his city, I considered myself sufficiently acquainted with its sights to be able to dispense with this, otherwise useful, personage’s attendance; but our host seemed so desirous that we should employ the old man, “We might have little errands to send him upon—some purchases to make; in fact, we should find the Tio Blas so useful in any capacity, and it would be such an act of charity to employ him,"—that we finally acceded to his proposal, and the Tio was accordingly ushered in.
He was a tall, and, though emaciated, still erect old man, whose tottering gait, and white and scanty hairs, would have led to the belief that his years had already exceeded the number usually allotted to the life of man, but that his deep-sunk eyes were shaded by dark and beatling brows, and yet sparkled occasionally with the fire of youth; proving that hardships and misfortunes had brought him somewhat prematurely to the brink of the grave.
It struck me at the first glance that I had seen him before, but when, and under what circumstances, I could not recall to my recollection. After some conversation, as to what had been his former occupation, &c., he remarked, addressing himself to me, “I think, Caballero, that this is not the first time we have met—many years have elapsed since—many (to me) most eventful years, and they have wrought great changes in my appearance. And, indeed, some little difference is perceptible also in yours, for you were a mere boy then; but, still, time has not laid so heavy a hand on you as on the worn-out person of him who stands before you, and in whom you will, doubtless, have difficulty in recognizing the reckless Blas Maldonado!"
Time had, indeed, effected great changes in him, morally as well as physically; for not only had the powerful, well-built man, dwindled into a tottering, emaciated driveller, but the daring, impious bandit, had become a weak and superstitious dotard.
My curiosity strongly piqued to learn how changes so wonderful had been brought about, we immediately engaged the Tio to attend upon us; and, during the few days circumstances compelled us to remain at Cordoba, I elicited from him the following account of the events which had chequered his extraordinary career since we had before met.