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Page 19
* * * * *
GEOFFREY CRAYON.
THE ABENCERRAGE.
A SPANISH TALE.
On the summit of a craggy hill, a spur of the mountains of Ronda, stands
the castle of Allora, now a mere ruin, infested by bats and owlets, but
in old times one of the strong border holds of the Christians, to keep
watch upon the frontiers of the warlike kingdom of Granada, and to hold
the Moors in check. It was a post always confided to some well-tried
commander; and, at the time of which we treat, was held by Rodrigo de
Narvaez, a veteran, famed, both among Moors and Christians, not only for
his hardy feats of arms, but also for that magnanimous courtesy which
should ever be entwined with the sterner virtues of the soldier.
The castle of Allora was a mere part of his command; he was Alcayde, or
military governor of Antiquera, but he passed most of his time at this
frontier post, because its situation on the borders gave more frequent
opportunity for those adventurous exploits which were the delight of the
Spanish chivalry. His garrison consisted of fifty chosen cavaliers, all
well mounted and well appointed: with these he kept vigilant watch
upon the Moslems; patrolling the roads, and paths, and defiles of the
mountains, so that nothing could escape his eye; and now and then
signalizing himself by some dashing foray into the very Vega of Granada.
On a fair and beautiful night in summer, when the freshness of the
evening breeze had tempered the heat of day, the worthy Alcayde sallied
forth, with nine of his cavaliers, to patrol the neighborhood, and
seek adventures. They rode quietly and cautiously, lest they should be
overheard by Moorish scout or traveller; and kept along ravines and
hollow ways, lest they should be betrayed by the glittering of the full
moon upon their armor. Coming to where the road divided, the Alcayde
directed five of his cavaliers to take one of the branches, while he,
with the remaining four, would take the other. Should either party be in
danger, the blast of a horn was to be the signal to bring their comrades
to their aid.
The party of five had not proceeded far, when, in passing through a
defile, overhung with trees, they heard the voice of a man, singing.
They immediately concealed themselves in a grove, on the brow of a
declivity, up which the stranger would have to ascend. The moonlight,
which left the grove in deep shadow, lit up the whole person of the
wayfarer, as he advanced, and enabled them to distinguish his dress and
appearance with perfect accuracy. He was a Moorish cavalier, and his
noble demeanor, graceful carriage, and splendid attire showed him to
be of lofty rank. He was superbly mounted, on a dapple-gray steed, of
powerful frame, and generous spirit, and magnificently caparisoned.
His dress was a marlota, or tunic, and an Albernoz of crimson damask,
fringed with gold. His Tunisian turban, of many folds, was of silk and
cotton, striped, and bordered with golden fringe. At his girdle hung a
scimitar of Damascus steel, with loops and tassels of silk and gold. On
his left arm he bore an ample target, and his right hand grasped a long
double-pointed lance. Thus equipped, he sat negligently on his steed, as
one who dreamed of no danger, gazing on the moon, and singing, with a
sweet and manly voice, a Moorish love ditty.
Just opposite the place where the Spanish cavaliers were concealed, was
a small fountain in the rock, beside the road, to which the horse turned
to drink; the rider threw the reins on his neck, and continued his song.
The Spanish cavaliers conferred together; they were all so pleased with
the gallant and gentle appearance of the Moor, that they resolved not to
harm, but to capture him, which, in his negligent mood, promised to be
an easy task; rushing, therefore, from their concealment, they thought
to surround and seize him. Never were men more mistaken. To gather up
his reins, wheel round his steed, brace his buckler, and couch his
lance, was the work of an instant; and there he sat, fixed like a castle
in his saddle, beside the fountain.
The Christian cavaliers checked their steeds and reconnoitered him
warily, loth to come to an encounter, which must end in his destruction.
The Moor now held a parley: "If you be true knights," said he, "and seek
for honorable fame, come on, singly, and I am ready to meet each in
succession; but if you be mere lurkers of the road, intent on spoil,
come all at once, and do your worst!"
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