he was about to fare forth on adventure in the country of the Moors, and tendered him such a sum as would provide for the maintenance of Donna Ximena and her daughters until his return, as well as a goodly bounty for the convent's sake. By this time tidings of the Cid's banishment had gone through the land broadcast, and so great was the fame of his prowess that cavaliers from near and far flocked to his banner. When he put foot in stirrup at the bridge of Arlanza a hundred and fifty gentlemen had assembled to follow his fortunes. The parting with his wife and daughters presents a poignant picture of leave-taking: Sharp as the pain when finger-nails are wrenched from off the hand, So felt the Cid this agony, but turned him to his band, And vaulted in the saddle, and forth led his menie, But ever and anon he turned his streaming eyes to see Dear faces he might see no more, till blunt Minaya, irked To see the yearning and regret that on his heartstrings worked, Cried out, "O born in happy hour,5 let not thy soul be sad: The heart of knight on venture bound should never but be glad. The heavy sorrow of to-day will prove to-morrow's joy. What grief can bide the trumpets' sound, what woe the battle's ploy?" Giving rein to their steeds, they galloped forth of the bounds of Christian Spain and, crossing the river Duero on rafts, stood upon Moorish soil. Far to the west they could see the slender minarets of the Saracen city of Ahilon glittering in the high sun of noon, emblematic [63]of the rich treasure they had come to win in the land of the paynim. At Higeruela still more good lances rallied to the Cid's banners, border men to whom the foray was a holiday and the breaking of spears the sweetest music. As he slept that night the Cid dreamed that the Archangel Gabriel appeared to him and said: "Mount, O Cid Campeador, mount and ride. Thy cause is just. Whilst thou livest thou shalt prosper!" With three hundred lances behind him, the Cid rode into the land of the Moors. He lay in ambush while Alvar Fanez and other knights made a foray toward Alcala. In their absence the Cid observed that the men of Castijon, a Moorish town hard by, came out of the place to work in the fields, leaving the gates open. He and his men made a dash at the gates, slew the handful of heathens who guarded them, and took the town without striking a score of blows. The men were well content at the treasure of gold and silver 18 they found in the quaint Moorish houses. But they were merciful to the inhabitants, of whom they made servitors rather than slaves. [Contents] The Taking of Alcocer After they had rested at Castijon, the Cid and his array rode down the valley of the Henares, passing by way of Alhamia to Bubierca and Ateca, and as he was in unknown country, and environed round by hosts of enemies, he took up a position upon a "round hill" near the strong Saracen city of Alcocer, to which he set siege. But the place was well guarded, and he saw that if he were to penetrate its defences it must be by stratagem and not by fighting alone. So one morning, after he had beleaguered Alcocer for full fifteen weeks, he withdrew [64]his men as if retreating in disgust, leaving but one pavilion behind him. When the Moors beheld his withdrawal they exulted, and in their eagerness to see what spoil the solitary tent might contain they rushed out of the town, leaving the gates open and unguarded. Now when the Cid saw that there was a wide space between the Moors and the gates of Alcocer, he ordered his men to turn and fall upon the excited rabble of Saracens. Small need had he to ask them to smite the paynim. Dashing among the dense crowd with levelled lances, the cavaliers of Castile did fearful execution. The wretched Moors, taken completely by surprise, fled wildly in all directions, and soon the plain was littered with white-robed corpses. Meanwhile the Cid himself, with a few trusted followers, galloped to the gates and secured them, so that with, much triumph the Spaniards entered Alcocer. As before, the Campeador was merciful to such of the Moors as made full surrender, saying: "We cannot sell them, and we shall gain nothing by cutting off their heads. Let us make them rather serve us." The Cid in Battle The Saracens of the neighbouring towns of Ateca and Zerrel were aghast at the manner in which Alcocer had been taken, and sent word to the Moorish King of Valencia how one called Roderigo Diaz of Bivar, a Castilian outlaw, had come into their land to spoil it, and had already taken the strong city of Alcocer. When King Tamin of Valencia heard these tidings he was greatly wroth, and sent an army of three thousand well-appointed men against the Campeador. In his anger he charged his captains that they should take this Spanish renegade alive, and bring him where justice might be done upon him. [65] The Cid knew nothing of the coming of this host, and one morning his sentinels, pacing the walls of Alcocer, were surprised to see the surrounding country alive with Moorish scouts, flitting from point to point upon their active jennets, and shaking their scimitars in menace. His own outposts soon brought in word that he was surrounded, and his knights and men-at-arms clamoured to be led forth to do battle with the infidels. But the Cid was old in Moorish warfare, and denied them for the moment. For days the enemy paraded around the walls of Alcocer. But the Cid, with three hundred men, knew well the folly of attacking three thousand, and bided his time. [Contents] The Combat with the Moorish King At last the Moors succeeded in cutting off the water-supply of Alcocer. Provisions, too, were running low, and the Cid saw clearly that such a desperate situation demanded a desperate remedy. Alvar Fanez, ever panting for the fight like a war-horse that hears the trumpet, urged an immediate sally in force, and the Cid, knowing the high spirit of his men, consented. First he sent all the Moors out of the city and looked to its defences. Then, leaving but two men to guard the gate, he marshalled his array and issued forth from Alcocer with dressed ranks and in strict order of battle. And here prose must once more give place to verse.6 [66] Huzza! huzza! the Moorman mounts and waves his crescent blade Hark to the thunder of the drums, the trump's fanfaronade! Around two glittering gonfanons the paynim take their stand, Beneath each waving banner's folds is massed a swarthy band. The turbaned sons of Termagaunt sweep onward like the sea; So trust they to engulf and drown the Christian chivalry. "Now gentles, keep ye fast your seats," cries the Campeador, "And hold your ranks, for such a charge saw never knight before." But the fierce heart of Bermuez that echoed to the drum, Cried, "Santiago, shall I stay the while these heathen come? With this bold banner shall I pierce yon pride of paynimrie. So follow, follow, cavaliers, for Spain and Christendie!" "Nay, comrade, stay!" implored the Cid, but Pero shook his head. His hand was loose upon the rein. "It may not be," he said; 19 Then in his destrier's flank he drove the bright speed-making spur: Like a spray-scattering ship he clove the sands of Alcocer. Lost in a sea of Saracens, whose turbans surge as foam, He stands unshaken as a cliff when on its bosom come Madness of ocean and the wrath of seas that overwhelm. So rain the hounds of Mahomet fierce blows on shield and helm. "A rescue, rescue," cries the Cid, "and strike for Holy Rood! Up, gentlemen of Old Castile, and charge the heathen brood!" As forth the hound when from the leash the hunter's hand is ta'en, As the unhooded falcon bounds, her jesses cast amain, But fiercer far than falcon or the hound's unleashed zeal Comes crashing down upon the foe the fury of Castile. Now rally, rally, to the flash of Roderigo's blade, The champion of Bivar is here who never was gainsaid. [67] Three hundred levelled lances strike as one upon the foe. Down, down in death upon the sand three hundred heathen go. The lances rise, the lances fall, how fast the deadly play! Ah, God! the sundered shields that lie in dreadful disarray. The snow-white bannerets are dyed with blood of Moorish slain, And chargers rush all masterless across the littered plain. As lightning circles Roderick's sword above the huddled foe, With Alvar Fanez, Gustioz, and half a hundred moe He reaps right bloodily. But stay, the Saracens have slain Bold Alvar Fanez' destrier; to aid him comes amain The Cid Campeador, for sore the brave Minaya's need. His way is barred, his stride is marred by a tall emir's steed. His falchion swoops, his falchion stoops, down sinks the turbaned lord. "Mount in his place, Minaya, mount! I need thy trenchant sword. The phalanx of the foe is firm, unbroken still they stand." The stout Minaya leaps in selle, and falchion in hand Strews death to left and right, his trust to rout the Moor right soon. But see, the Cid hath fiercely rid with blood-embroidered shoon Upon the Moorish capitan, he cleaves his shining shield: The haughty Moslem turns to fly--that blow hath won the field. Bold Martin Antolinez aims a stroke at Galve's head; The jewelled casque it cracks in twain, the infidel hath fled Rather than bide its fellow; he and Fariz make retreat: They caracoled to victory, they gallop from defeat. Ne'er was a field so worthy sung since first men sang of war. Its laurels unto thee belong, O Cid Campeador! Fierce and sanguinary was the pursuit. The Moorish rout was complete, and the little Castilian band had lost but fifteen men. Five hundred Arab horses, heavily caparisoned, each with a splendid sword at the saddle-bow, fell into the hands of the Cid, who kept a fifth share for himself, as was the way with the commanders of such free companies as he led. But greatly desiring to make his peace with King Alfonso of Castile, he [68]sent the trusty Alvar Fanez to Court with thirty steeds saddled and bridled in the Moorish
