DON ALONSO DE AGUILAR.
The hosts of King Don Ferdinand were gathered under his banner togo out and recover Granada from the dominion of the Moors. All thenobles of Spain were there in their strong shining armour of wroughtsteel inlaid with gold. It was St. Michael's day in the morning,and the king called the principal of them into his tent, and thussaid to them:--"Who will be the knight who, to show his prowess andto cover his name with glory in succeeding generations, will go upfor me to the Snowy Sierra [96]."
But the nobles looked one on the other, and no one said "I will;"for if it was a perilous adventure to go, the return was utterlyuncertain. And for the fear that filled them, you could see theirvery beards tremble.
Then arose Don Alonso, who was called "of Aguilar," and said, "GoodKing, I will go. This enterprise is such as I seek. I have no desirein life but to die defending my country from the infidel folk; andmay Christ give me the mastery!"
So he put on his armour before the king--his armour all damascened withgold, and bestrode his noble steed, and slung his broad shield on hisarm, and took in his hand a stout lance with a sharp iron head. Rightvaliant he looked in his might as he rode at the head of his troop.
And they crossed the Snowy Sierra and soon came in sight of theMoors. And the Moors poured down upon them so closely that they werewell-nigh overwhelmed by numbers. Then the Christian ranks gave way,and began to fly from the face of the Moor.
Now, when brave Don Alonso saw them give way, he called to themwith a mighty voice and said, "Turn! caballeros, turn! Turn back tothe battle; for though they against us be many, a coward still ishe who shows fear! Remember the mighty deeds of your old Castilianfathers. Better is it here to die in the noble profession of arms,than to crawl back to your firesides and live a dishonoured life. Thusdying you will live, for your fame shall be sung throughout Spain;for life soon comes to an end, but honour dieth never!"
At these generous words they felt their hearts come back; each seemedfilled with a giant's strength, and fought till the Moors stretchedhim dead.
Don Alonso remained the last, still brandishing his gory lance, andever and anon charging the Moors with an impetuosity none could resist.
But when the Moors saw their heroes thus mown down, wounded anddead, with one consent they agreed to attack him on all sides atonce. There he sat erect on his charger; his eye was full of fire,his shield shone bright on his arm--dented, indeed, but not pierced,and in his hand his stout, unbroken lance. But though his horse was sohigh, there lay round him such a heap of slain, that when the Moorscame to the attack, as they climbed on the fallen bodies they foundthemselves raised to his level.
On they came with frightful algazara [97]; and, stout in each other'spresence, they charged, and thrust, and charged again. The boldestventured in front, but before they came within reach of his lancetheir brethren had pierced him from behind; and before he could turnto repay them, those who had been in front thrust him in the side. Andthey thrust his bonny horse, too; and the horse and his rider fellthere, where they stood, crowning the mound of the slain. Sixteenlances had pierced Don Alonso--pierced him through and through.
But Don Alonso that day had inflicted a loss on the Moors which filledthem with confusion and dismay. Then, from out their ill-guarded camp,came running a Christian captive; it was she who in days gone by hadbrought up the young Don Alonso.
Guided by the instinct of a mother, she at once descried his form asit lay crowning the heap of the victims of his prowess.
So she fell on his neck and wept, and wept till she swooned away,and wept when she woke again. And she stroked his long, dark hair,and his cheek that was ashy pale; and his eyes, that could never moresee her, she closed with a mother's care. Then she wrung her fair,white hands, and she raised her cry to God; and her cry must havepierced the clouds as it pierced the hearts of men.
"Don Alonso! my Alonso!" she cried. "Now, God receive thy soul; forthe cruel Moors have killed thee, the Moors of Alpujarra! And now allSpain shall mourn thee, mourn thee as a mother mourns, lamenting thineearly death! And King Ferdinand shall mourn thee, for he has never aknight like thee! Aguilar and Montilla shall mourn thee, for they'llne'er have a lord like thee! And all the host shall mourn thee, fornot one has a comrade like thee! But the angels in heaven mourn not,for my boy is among them with joy; for he died resisting the paganswho devoured his country fair."
So she tried, but in vain, to smile, for her mother's heart was weak;and in the effort it broke, and she fell icy cold at his feet.
Now an ancient Moor came by, whose beard was long and grey; and shelay so helpless there, he saw he had nothing to fear, so he drew hisscimitar, and with stealthy steps crept near and severed her dyinghead, holding it up by the long dark hair.
By the long dark hair he bore it, to lay at the feet of the king. Nowthe Moorish king rejoiced when he knew Don Alonso was dead, Don Alonsoof Aguilar; so he told them to take his body, and that of his motheras well, and bear to Don Fernando, the king.
And Don Fernando said, "Good service this day was done by Alonso ofAguilar; and though by the Moors he has died, his memory yet shalllive; his deeds shall clothe every knight, in the fancy of every Moor,with power to equal the prowess of Alonso of Aguilar."
Patrañas; or, Spanish Stories, Legendary and Traditional Page 40
