In the middle of the night, a cold blast seemed to strike through Rodrigo, and he waked and put out his hand to touch his bedfellow; but the leper was gone. The Cid called aloud; none answered. While Rodrigo was considering this strange thing, a man in white, shining garments appeared, and asked softly,—
"Sleepest thou, Rodrigo?"
"Nay, I am awake; but who art thou who bearest about thee so bright a light and so sweet a smell?"
"I am Saint Lazarus," answered the vision, "and would have thee know that I am that leper to whom thou didst show such kindness for the love of God. And for that deed, God bestows on thee this great boon,—that when the blast thou didst feel but now shall come upon thee, thou mayest undertake that on which thy heart is fixed, whether it be fighting or other matters, and it shall go well with thee. For never shalt thou be conquered, but ever victorious; for God grants thee His blessing. So rest thee well and do ever the right." And so Rodrigo prayed until morning, and then went on his way rejoicing.
Meanwhile the day came, on which the combat was to be fought between the Cid and a knight of Aragon, to decide whether the city of Calahorra should belong to the King of Castile or the King of Aragon. The two kings, with a splendid company of nobles, had taken places to watch the combat, the lists were all prepared, and the heralds stood ready to give the signal; but the Cid did not appear. Very uneasy was King Fernando at the absence of his champion. A cousin of the tardy knight offered to take his place, and was about to mount and enter the lists, when the Cid came spurring up in hot haste. Leaping from his tired horse, he sprang upon the steed that stood ready, and, wasting no time in words, lowered his lance and charged fiercely on his waiting adversary. The two met with a shock that shivered the lances. Both knights were badly wounded, but they drew their swords and prepared to fight on. The knight of Aragon now thought to frighten the Cid, and exclaimed boastfully,—
"Right sorely shalt thou rue that thou hast come into this place with me, for never shalt thou return alive to Castile!"
But Rodrigo was not at all troubled by the threat.
"Don Martin Gonzales," he replied coolly, "thou art a good knight, but such words befit not this place. We must fight with our hands, and not with empty words." And grasping his sword, he suddenly brought it down on the helmet of his foe with such tremendous force that it wellnigh drove the head of Gonzales down to the neck of his steed. The knight of Aragon, however, was a stout fighter, and rallying from the shock, he dealt a blow that cut through the edge of the Cid's shield. So firmly fixed was the sword that, when drawn back, it brought the shield with it. Enraged at this loss, the Cid cut his adversary fiercely across the face; but Gonzales, though bleeding copiously, still fought on bravely. Only after a long, fierce fight did the Champion unhorse and slay this valiant knight. Then the umpires announced that the Cid had conquered, and so won the good city of Calahorra for his king.
The Knighting of the Cid