He said, and with a sudden spring he hurled himself from the summit of the tower. His body falling on a rock below, was dashed to pieces.
The surrender of Lanjaron, and the tragical end of el Negro, were an irretrievable loss to the Moors. They now found it utterly impossible to oppose the superior and better disciplined troops of the Christians with any chance of success, either in open battle or in regular sieges. They therefore resolved to limit their whole means of defence to the mountains, a description of warfare more suitable to their wandering habits, and far better calculated to harrass the enemy, without sustaining risk. Accordingly, el Feri de Benastepar, Andalla, Cañeri, and other chiefs, collected their forces, and assigned to each other a portion of those mountains which they were at once to govern and defend. By this means the Christians were likewise obliged to divide their army into many divisions, and to encounter the rebels in partial struggles. Don Alonso de Aguilar, who had succeeded in compelling el Feri to retreat before him, now pursued his advantage, and advanced towards Gergal, where that rebel chief was collecting his adherents.
In the mean time, Don Antonio de Leyva, whom we have left at Guadix, condoling with Don Manuel at the flight of his daughter, was compelled to forego his wishes to serve the afflicted father. His duty now called him to join the army of Aguilar, and act in conjunction with him against Cañeri and el Feri de Benastepar.
Don Antonio's party had already arrived at Guadix, and the gallant young knight, unwilling to procrastinate his departure when the path of honor was open to him, immediately proceeded to take leave of Monteblanco. He found the unfortunate father plunged in deeper affliction than before. In the society of Don Antonio he had found a source of relief, and his departure was productive of the most melancholy sensations. But Don Manuel felt the necessity of the separation, and he was too generous and noble minded to signify his wish to cause any delay.
"Go, my friend, go, where honor calls you," he said, as he threw his arms round de Leyva's neck—"Go, and show by your conduct how worthy you are of the confidence reposed in you.—When the glory of your deeds shall be blazoned abroad, my ungrateful child will feel a pang of regret for the loss of a man so deserving of her affection and esteem."
Here he was overcome with grief, and could proceed no further.
"Señor," said Don Antonio, "do not yield yourself a prey to despondency; but a short time has yet elapsed since the melancholy occurrence that afflicts you, and you have no reason to relinquish your hopes. In all cases be assured, Don Manuel, that you and those who concern you will always be next my heart, and that unless death deprive me of the power, I shall at least see your wrongs redressed, if I can bring no other consolation."
Saying this he hastily disengaged himself from the arms of Don Manuel, and endeavouring to conceal his own emotion, gave the word of command. He bounded lightly on his spirited barb, and the martial display of his men, the glitter of armour, and the seductive prospect of future glory and renown, powerfully contributed to dispel the cloud that hung over him. Yet it was a sad parting, for there was something peculiarly affecting in the sight of a father who, like Monteblanco, found himself in old age isolated in the midst of the world, and bereft of the last dear comfort that still bound him to life. Besides, in the short interviews between Theodora and Don Antonio, both in the last visit and at former periods, she had left a pleasing recollection in his mind. Already the cries of those who bade the party of de Leyva farewell were diminishing on the ear, and the turrets and steeples of Guadix became more obscurely perceptible in the distance. The warriors began now to assume a mastery over their feelings, and the tear of sympathy was brightened in the glow of expectation. Courage and renown took entire possession of those hearts which but too lately had sympathized with the weaker and more tender sentiments of humanity.
The absence of Don Antonio was like a death-blow to the hopes of Monteblanco. Often did he regret the infirmities of age, which now prevented him from grasping his sword; but his arm was grown nerveless, and for the first time in his life the helpless cavalier felt bitterly the recollection that all his brave sons had sacrificed their lives in the defence of their country, not one now remaining to prop the honor of his falling house. Don Manuel was a man, and this transitory feeling of regret was natural to a father under his affliction, who knew not to whom to turn for consolation and advice.
Gomez Arias, who had insensibly won his favor, departed the next day for Granada, in which quarter he had no longer any danger to apprehend. He was anxious to assume his station in the war against the rebel Moors. Monteblanco considered his intention not only just, but highly commendable, and a tear coursed down the old man's cheek, as he took leave of the seducer of his child, and the cause of his present misfortunes.