Part 14

And Al Mustain, the Moorish King of Saragossa, gave the envoys this discouraging answer,--

"Go and take such comfort as ye may, and fight bravely, for Rodrigo is invincible, and therefore I am afraid to do battle with him."

When the sorely disappointed envoys returned to Murviedro, great was the distress of its inhabitants. But in order to gain time, they pretended that the messengers had not returned, and therefore besought Rodrigo to extend the time of the truce. The Cid knew well that their statement was false, and that the envoys were even then in Murviedro, but he replied,--

"In order to show you that I fear none of your kings, I grant you a further truce of twelve days for them to come to your aid. If then they come not, and you do not surrender, I will slay all of you that I capture."

But at the end of the twelve days the Cid granted yet another delay. When that time had expired, and the city was forced to surrender, the Cid did not carry out his threat, but mercifully granted the inhabitants their lives, and permitted them to take their wives and children and go where they would. But some who presumed on his generosity to send all their wealth out of the city, against the Cid's express command, the conqueror sold into slavery.

This conquest of Murviedro was the last great exploit of the Champion. For the day was approaching when the conqueror must yield himself to the conqueror of all. The Cid fell ill, and while in this state, heard that Bucar was again coming with a great force against Valencia. One night soon after, so runs the old legend, there swept through the palace of the dying Champion a great wave of light and a marvelous sweet perfume. And there appeared to the Cid a tall and stately old man, with long snowy hair, holding keys in his hand; and thus he spoke,--

"Sleepest thou, Rodrigo?"

"What man art thou?" the Cid asked his strange visitor boldly.

"I am Saint Peter, prince of the apostles," he said; "and I am come to tell thee that when thirty days be past, thou must quit this world and go to the life that hath no end. But God will so favor thee that after thy death thou shalt conquer and rout King Bucar. This does Christ grant thee for love of me and for the honor thou didst ever pay me in my church at Cardenas." And after he had spoken, Saint Peter straightway departed. Then the Cid rejoiced greatly, and the next day he called his chief men, and said to them,--

"My friends and kinsmen, be sure that I am now come upon the end of my life, and thirty days hence shall see my end. I have seen visions of my father and son, and each time they say: 'Long hast thou tarried here; let us begone to the eternal life.'

"And last night Saint Peter came to me and told me that in thirty days I shall pass away; but before I leave you, I will show you how you shall conquer King Bucar, as Saint Peter did promise me."

Then the Cid betook himself to the church of Saint Peter. There all the people assembled, and he bade them farewell, weeping sore. After confessing his sins and receiving absolution, he went back to the Alcazar and cast himself upon the bed, and never again did he rise up. Seven days before the end of the thirty he bade them bring him a gold cup, and in it he mixed with rose-water a little balsam and myrrh, sent him by the Sultan of Persia, and drank the mixture.

This he did each day, as was the custom of Moorish princes; and so his body and face became fresh and healthy-looking, though he grew weaker every hour. At last he called his wife, Ximena, Bishop Hieronymo, and his three most trusty friends, and said,--

"As soon as I be dead, ye shall wash my body many times with rose-water and balsam. And thou, Ximena, take heed that thou and the women cry not aloud nor wail for me so that the Moors get knowledge of my death. And when Bucar is come, bid all the folk of Valencia go forth on the wall and sound trumpets, and show great glee. Also bid the people get together their goods in secret, that the Moors know it not, for ye may not tarry here after my death, but must needs go back to Castile. Thou, Gil Diaz, deck my body with care, and saddle Babieca, and bind me on him so that I fall not, and place in my hand my sword, Tizona; and thou, Don Hieronymo, shalt ride by my side; and thou, Bermudez, bear my banner as thou wast wont to do; and thou, Don Fanez, shalt draw up the host as thou hast ever done. Then go ye forth and battle with Bucar, for be assured and doubt not that ye shall win the battle."

Having said these words, the dying hero received the sacrament, and then prayed, weeping:

"Lord Jesus Christ, I pray Thee of thy grace that Thou wilt pardon my sins, and that my soul be placed in the light that hath no end."

And so saying, "the Cid gave to God his soul."

Then the faithful friends and loving wife did even as he had commanded them. The body had been embalmed by the myrrh and balsam, and thus remained fresh-looking as in life. So they clothed the dead warrior in all his armor of war, with coat of arms and shield, and placed in his hand the precious sword, Tizona. His arms were raised aloft, and tied up so cunningly that he held the sword straight and even. When bound strongly upon his good horse, Babieca, any man not knowing the truth would have sworn the knight to be alive.

At last all things were in readiness. And at midnight a strange procession rode through the silent, deserted streets of the city. First went forth Pero Bermudez, bearing aloft the great green banner of the Champion, that had never yet failed to strike terror into the hearts of his foes. Then all silently, in battle-array, the warriors of the Cid passed through the gates of Valencia; and with them, as of old, rode their dead leader, Ruy Diaz de Bivar. A hundred chosen knights pressed close about the Champion; and before him, with breaking heart, but tearless and quiet as her lord had commanded, rode the high-hearted Ximena. So went forth to his last conflict the ever-victorious Cid, the great conqueror of banners.

At daylight the little army fell upon the sleeping camp of King Bucar, and slew many Moors before they could mount or arm. And it seemed to King Bucar and the other kings that there joined the host of the Christians full seventy thousand knights, all white as snow. Ahead of all rode a tall knight on a white horse. In his left hand he held a white banner, and in his right a sword of fire; and he slew many Moors as they fled. So terrified were King Bucar and his men that they drew not rein until they reached the sea; and more than twenty thousand were drowned. Bucar and those who escaped to the ships hoisted sails and sped away, nor did they dare look back.

Then the Christians rode back in triumph to the presence of the dead Champion, and laden with the treasure of the Moorish camp, marched in peace to Castile.

All along the way the people came forth in multitudes to see the great Champion on his last journey; and much they marveled at his lifelike appearance, and greatly they mourned for him. But the Cid's own men, as he had bidden them, made no open show of grief. And so, with banners flying, with gleam of spear and sound of trumpet, the strange funeral train passed through the land, until it came at last to the church of San Pedro de Cardenas. There they placed the Cid on a horse of wood, before the high altar. After many masses had been sung for the repose of his soul, a tabernacle was built on the right of the altar, and in it was placed the ivory throne on which the Cid was wont to sit. There, clothed in royal purple, with right hand clasping his mantle and the left grasping Tizona sheathed, sat the Champion like a king and lord for ten long years. And each day until her death, Ximena knelt for hours, morning and evening, at the feet of her lord, and wept and mourned and would not be comforted.

At last, seated thus on his ivory throne, the Cid was entombed in a vault before the high altar. His hand could never be unclasped from his sword, and thus, says the legend, it remains to this day. Well might the people believe that even in death the great warrior would not loose his hold on his cherished sword Tizona; for with it he had done such marvelous deeds that even his enemies looked on him as "a miracle of the miracles of God," and bestowed on him the proud title of "The Conqueror of Banners."

THE CID'S WEDDING

Within his hall of Burgos, the king prepares a feast, He makes his preparation for many a noble guest. It is a joyful city, it is a happy day; 'Tis the Campeador's wedding, and who will bide away?

Layn Calvo, the Lord Bishop, he first comes forth the gate, Behind him Ruy Diaz in all his bridal state. The crowd makes way before them as up the street they go; For the multitude of people, their steps must need be slow.

The King had given order that they should rear an arch, From house to house all over, in the way where they must march: They have hung it all with lances, and shields, and glittering helms, Brought by the Campeador from out the Moorish realms.

They have scattered olive branches and rushes on the street, And the ladies fling down garlands at the Campeador's feet; With tapestry and broidery their balconies between, To do his bridal honor, their walls the burghers screen.