Upon the departure of Leonor, Theodora drew near the window, and gazed on the moving multitude below. The increased clamour of the populace, and an unusual hurrying to and fro, together with the tolling of the cathedral bells, now announced that the procession had left the palace, and was approaching. Soon after, the sumptuous cavalcade came in sight, slowly moving forwards. A magnificent banner was borne at the head of the procession, displaying the cross of Santiago, patron of Spain, gorgeously embroidered thereon, and followed by the knights of that noble military order, in their grand ceremonial costumes. After them, came those of the order of Calatrava, with their brave and renowned maestre at their head. A long train of noblemen and knights, all martially equipped, and mounted on beautiful steeds, succeeded, bearing amongst them the spoils taken in the late conflicts. Isabella herself at last appeared, seated on a superb milk-white charger, with the ease and elegance of a perfect equestrian. She was immediately attended by the Count de Tendilla, governor of the city, and the Archbishop of Toledo and that of Granada, who were to officiate at the cathedral. The splendor of the cavalcade was diversified by ranks of friars and monks of various orders, who moved in regular order, mingling the sounds of solemn anthems to the notes of clarions and other warlike instruments. Then the incense rose to the sky, flinging around a grateful odour, whilst the din and confusion of the overwhelming throng that closed the march, evinced the interest which the scene excited in the minds of the people.
Theodora gazed after the procession until it gradually diminished in the distance, and the clamorous noise was gradually subdued into a tranquil and pleasing murmur. The pageant moved forward to the cathedral, where a grand Te Deum was sung, and a thousand voices united in heartfelt gratitude to that awful power which had been so propitious to the Christian people.
Theodora now retired from the casement, and abandoned herself to her former thoughts. The sumptuous display she had just witnessed forcibly recalled her mind to the subject of its constant meditations. Alas! amongst the host of gallant knights that composed the scene, the best and bravest was not there; and the image of her murdered lover, arrayed in terror, rose sadly before the imagination of Theodora. Her attendants, ignorant of the nature of her sorrows, but in the true spirit of female compassion, endeavoured to divert her thoughts to more pleasing channels. The mind may be better weaned from scenes of past distress, by interesting the curiosity, than by a consolation which often, instead of healing the lacerated heart, serves but to increase the torture of the wound.
The kind females, therefore, led Theodora to view the interior of the palace, which, from its venerable antiquity, and the interesting relics of Moorish taste and ornament it contained, afforded a subject for curious investigation. The quaint and fantastic carvings of the cornices of the grand saloon, together with its Arabic devices and decorations, and the mosaic pavement, harmonized strangely with the armorial bearings and heavily grouped emblems of Christian panoplies.
Theodora gazed on these warlike trophies with a listless indifference, but when she came to a long gallery hung round with pictures, both of Christian and Moorish subjects, her feelings were powerfully excited, and she beheld those living mockeries of departed greatness with a deep sensation of awe. Many a picture was there which recorded the faded splendour of the Moslems. Many a scene of the chivalrous tales and amours of the valiant Gazul and the love-smitten Lindaraxa, and other characters now highly prized in Moorish legend. These scenes of private and individual interest were artificially mixed with other representations of a more general and dignified nature. Battles and sieges and valorous deeds of Mahomedan warriors were gaudily portrayed by the Moorish artist, who had taken care to bestow with his pencil a gratuitous splendor upon the exploits of his countrymen, as they passed in review under his hand. These works were succeeded by others of a very different character, in which the Christian artist had ingeniously taken the hint from his Mahomedan rival, and had fairly outdone the infidel in the fierce and indomitable expression of his heroes.
These were followed by a series of portraits, both of living personages and others who were long since dead. Amongst these, Theodora saw the mighty form of Alonso de Aguilar, on whose noble countenance was stamped that commanding expression which brought vividly to her memory the image of his daughter Leonor. There also stood as in life the renowned and terrible Ruy Diaz de Vivar, surnamed El Cid Campeador,[31] mounted on his scarcely less celebrated charger Babieca, both actively engaged in the destruction of their Moorish enemies; for it is a received tradition that the animal had an instinctive horror and abhorrence of the infidels, and accordingly never lost an opportunity of exhibiting towards them his patriotic propensities by the force of his bites and kicks. There was likewise the awful and sanctified figure of the apostle Santiago, riding like a whirlwind through the air, on his milk-white horse, and accomplishing in his progress those wonderful and miraculous deeds which have so much embellished the pages of the old legends, and from whose rich sources the romancers have derived such heroic spirit and power. The portraits of the Catholic Ferdinand, and his noble spouse Isabella, were also there, together with many other Christian sovereigns and warriors, who had played conspicuous parts in the history of their country.
Theodora unconsciously wandered along until she had nearly reached the extremity of the gallery, when, as she was about to return, her eye suddenly alighted on a figure that thrilled the inmost fibres of her frame. It was him she saw, so truly portrayed and so exact in every lineament, that the painted canvas seemed endowed with life. Gomez Arias was there; his bold demeanor, his proud smile, the intelligent glance of his eye—all, all was religiously preserved in that inanimate counterpart of living reality. Theodora gazed and gazed, until her dilated eyes seemed ready to start from their orbits. The unfortunate girl was rivetted to the spot, for she felt a melancholy pleasure in dwelling on the semblance of those handsome features. She descried all the graces of her lover in that perfect memorial of him, and her own vivid imagination imparted to it life and passion. She stood before the picture, till she fancied her lover present, earnestly gazing on her immovable form, and she felt a portion of that happiness which he never failed to create when he whispered the ardent vows of everlasting love.
Theodora remained some time plunged in a tide of feeling, painful yet pleasing, and in the recollection of past scenes she almost forgot the horrid fate of Gomez Arias. She gazed, and in the height of her enthusiasm she was happy; but, alas! how short, how transient was the delusion which, when dissolved, would tend to sink her deeper in affliction! The brazen, heavy voice of the cathedral bell suddenly broke the magic charm. Theodora started from her reverie, and all again became a chaos of misery and despondence.
The pageant was now returning from the Cathedral, and once more the tolling of bells and the martial strains rung in the air. Theodora, unwilling to betray her situation to her attendants, returned to her apartment, where she endeavoured to conceal her emotion as well as the high excitement of her feelings would permit.
The generous Leonor soon repaired to her charge.