Carefully the foremost ones plant their steps upon the stones, as they bear upon a crossed frame the body of Onesinda, which the Christians of Gijon secured in the confusion following her death and the arrival of the herald summoning Kerim to Cordoba.
A dark pall covers her, and so slight and fragile is her form that the outline of her figure scarcely raises the folds.
Behind appears the stalwart figure of Pelayo, wearing the Gothic cap of steel and armed with the simple accoutrements of a Dacian warrior.
Not a tear moistens his eye. His face is set and white, marked by the vicissitudes and hardships of his life; a countenance on which Nature has set her seal as a leader of men—the sole remaining link of the early Gothic kings.
Behind him follow three other chiefs, who have joined in an eternal hatred to the Moor, Friula, Teudis, and Recesvinto.
A sorrowful procession, fitly set in the impenetrable wilds which surround them, solemn as themselves, who want no spur to their resolve to sell their blood dear in the cause of their country. But if they did, surely the slight form they are bearing, so cruelly sacrificed to the Moor, is enough to stir up their souls to never-ending vengeance.
