A shout of enthusiasm answered the noble sentiments of the warrior, whilst the queen issued orders that the next day all disposable forces should depart for the Sierra Bermeja, under the command of Aguilar, his son, Count de Ureña and Don Antonio de Leyva. The troops of Jaen and all Castile were likewise ordered to hold themselves in readiness to march under the Alcayde de los Donceles and Count de Cifuentes.
Gomez Arias seized with avidity the opportunity which fortune thus offered him to signalize himself, and found stronger claims to the esteem and regard of his sovereign, on whose features he had lately observed a degree of coldness which little accorded with her former cordiality. He did not regret his being excluded from the number of chiefs under Aguilar, though his pride might feel a temporary wound. For he considered that his reputation would not be materially increased whilst acting in subordination to such a chief as Aguilar. His gigantic fame would engross almost all the glory, and its splendour would naturally throw into shade the lesser stars of his unequal rivals. He rejoiced, therefore, that his exertions were unfettered by a superior, and his ardent and ambitious mind soon worked out a plan of operations against a quarter of the revolted territory which had been neglected in the hasty dispositions already made.
He now boldly sought the presence of the queen, and requested her authority to embody a division to act under his command, a boon which his reputation as a soldier fully justified him in demanding. Isabella, to whom Don Lope's courtly manners and gallant bearing had always been pleasing, was happy to afford him an opportunity of distinguishing himself, and the cloud that obscured her brow was soon dispelled by a gracious smile as she wished him success in his expedition. Indeed, justice required that the request of Gomez Arias should not be denied, for while most of the Spanish chiefs, his brothers in arms, were about to share the dangers and glory of so honorable a war, it would have been utterly inconsistent that Don Lope, who ranked amongst the foremost in courage, should remain in obscurity.
Gomez Arias immediately made his arrangements with the usual ardour of his character, stimulated by ambition and the desire of forcing upon Leonor a conviction of his superior merits, by adding to his fame without being indebted to the proud family of the Aguilars. He summoned to his ranks all the friends over whom he possessed power, and the retainers of various noble families with whom he was in alliance. But these being volunteers, whom their zeal or hatred to the Moors had instigated to take up arms, could not be put in a state to depart from Granada with the regular army of Don Alonso de Aguilar.
The troops of this noble veteran were prepared to march. Previously, however, to their departure from the city, they piously bent their steps towards the cathedral, where divine service was performed with great pomp, to propitiate heaven in favour of its servants. The archbishop delivered an eloquent oration inculcating on the Christians their duty, and the glory of their enterprize; pointing out fame and honour to the survivors—an eternal crown to those who should fall in defence of their country and religion. The banners of the army were then blessed, and the various divisions directed their march towards the gates of Elvira, by which they were to leave the city.
It was a clear and beautiful morning; no lowering cloud defaced the serene brilliancy of the sky, and the sunbeams sporting on the polished helmets and glittering trappings of the army, were reflected in a thousand curious rays.
The trumpets, clarions, and other martial instruments, poured their brazen voices in wild and animating strains, while the shouts of the multitude, assembled to behold the departure of the Christian soldiers, floated promiscuously along the air. The walls of the city were thronged with spectators, whilst others, more active or more interested, followed the army down the Vega. It was a scene at once splendid and interesting, to behold the army marching gallantly to the field, followed by a multitude all unanimous in imploring the benedictions of heaven on their brave countrymen.
Amongst the dense crowd that gazed upon that martial array, what passions were called forth—how many latent affections kindled—and what sentiments of glory displayed! The magnificent pomp and the spirit-stirring dignity of war, at the same time that it elevates the soul to deeds of heroism, fails not to awaken in the breast a corresponding sentiment of awe.—Alas! while the warrior, in all the enthusiasm of courage and self-devotion, marches with eager strides to the paths of victory, perhaps of death, how many tender hearts swell high and beat fearfully for the dangers which they themselves cannot perceive!
Amongst that overpowering multitude might be discerned the venerable father, a lingering spark of noble fire still lurking in his dim eyes, and his withering frame receiving new energies as he gazed on the military display. A sigh of regret escapes him, for the perilous and glorious scenes in which his age forbids him to bear a part. His out-stretched palms are clasped in fervent orisons to heaven, not for the safety of his child, but that his conduct in the field may be worthy of a man and a Spaniard.
There was also the affectionate spouse contemplating the marching army in silent sorrow; her eyes swimming in tears are intensely fixed on that numerous mass of warlike spirits, where one, to her dearer than all the world, was speeding from her side. On one arm some innocent, perhaps, lay in sweet slumber, whilst another urchin, with years enough to gaze with delight upon the glorious scene, evinces his pleasure at the animating prospect, and with infantine exultation looks upwards to his mother, wondering to see her bathed in sorrow, for to his unconscious heart no cause is there for grief; and yet his tears flow because his mother weeps.