Calavar Part 25

CHAPTER XXVIII.

It was late in the night; a horizontal moon flung the long shadows of the houses over the wide streets of Cholula, when the knight Calavar, wrapped in his black mantle, strode along through the deserted city.

With no definite object before him, unless to fly, or perhaps to give way, in solitude, to the bitter thoughts that oppressed him, he suffered himself to be guided as much by accident as by his wayward impulses; and as he pa.s.sed on, at every step, some mutation of his fancies, or some trivial incident on the way, conspired to recall his disorder. Now, as a bat flitted by, or an owl flew, hooting, from its perch among some of those ruins, which yet raised their broken and blackened walls, in memory of the cruelty of his countrymen, the knight started aghast, and a mortal fear came over him; for, in these sounds and sights, his disturbed senses discovered the signs of the furies that persecuted him; and even the night-breeze, wailing round some lonely corner, or whispering among the shrubbery of a devastated garden, seemed to him the cries of haunting spirits.

"Miserere mei, Deus!" muttered Don Gabriel, as a tree, bowing away from the wind, let down a moonbeam through a fissure on his path--"the white visage will not leave me!--Heavy was the sin, heavy is the punishment!

for even mine own fancies are become my chastisers."

Thus, at times, conscious, in part, of his infirmity, and yet yielding ever, with the feebleness of a child, to the influence of unreal horrors, he wandered about, sometimes driven from his path by what seemed a gaunt spectre flitting before him, sometimes impelled onwards by a terror that followed behind: thus he roved about, he knew not whither, until he found himself, by chance, in the neighbourhood of the great temple, the scene of the chief atrocities enacted on that day which has been called, by a just metonymy, the Ma.s.sacre of Cholula. Here it was, as had been mentioned by De Morla, that the miserable natives, huddled together in despair, had made their last cry to their G.o.ds, and perished under the steel and flames of the Christians; and the memorials of their fate were as plainly written as if the tragedy had been the work of the previous day. No carca.s.ses, indeed, lay crowded among the ruins, no embers smouldered on the square; weeds had grown upon the place of murder, as if fattening on the blood that had besprinkled their roots; life had utterly vanished from the spot; and it presented the appearance of a desert in the bosom of a populous city.

A great wall, running round the temple, had enclosed it in a large court, once covered with the houses of priests and devotees. The wall was shattered and fallen, the dwellings burned and demolished; and the pyramid, itself crumbling into ruins, lay like the body of some huge monster among its severed and decaying members. The flags of stone, tumbled by the victims, in their fury, from its sides and terraces, though they had not called up the subterraneous rivers, had exposed the perishable earth, that composed the body of the mound, to the vicissitudes of the weather; and, under the heavy tropical rains, it was was.h.i.+ng rapidly away. The sanctuaries yet stood on the summit, but with their walls mutilated, and their roofs burnt; and they served only to make the horror picturesque. A wooden cross of colossal dimensions, raised by the conquerors, in impious attestation that G.o.d had aided them in the labour of slaughter, flung high its rugged arms, towering above the broken turrets, and gave the finish of superst.i.tion to the monument of wrath. It was a place of ruins, dark, lugubrious, and forbidding; and as Don Gabriel strode among the ma.s.sive fragments, he found himself in a theatre congenial with his gloomy and wrecking spirit.

It was not without many feelings of dismay that he plunged among the ruins; for his imagination converted each shattered block into a living phantasm. But still he moved on, as if urged by some irresistible impulse, entangling himself in the labyrinth of decay, until he scarcely knew whither to direct his steps. Whether it was reality, or some coinage of his brain, that presented the spectacle, he knew not; but he was arrested in his toilsome progress by the apparition of several figures rising suddenly among the ruins, and as suddenly vanis.h.i.+ng.

"Heaven pity me!" he cried: "They come feathered like the fiends of the infidel! But I care not, so they bring no more the white face, that is so ghastly!--And yet, this is her day!--this is her day!"

Perhaps it was his imagination, that decked out the spectres with such ornaments; but a less heated spectator might have discovered in them, only the figures of strolling savages. With his spirits strongly agitated, his brain excited for the reception of any chimera, he followed the direction in which these figures seemed to have vanished: and this bringing him round a corner of the pyramid, into the moons.h.i.+ne, he instantly found himself confronted with a spectacle that froze his blood with horror. In a spot, where the ruins had given s.p.a.ce for the growth of weeds and gra.s.s, and where the vision could not be so easily confounded,--illuminated by the moonbeams as if by the l.u.s.tre of the day,--he beheld a figure, seemingly of a woman, clad in robes of white of an oriental habit, full before him, and turning upon him a countenance as wan as death.

"Miserere mei, Deus!" cried the knight, dropping on his knees, and bowing his forehead to the earth. "If thou comest to persecute me yet, I am here, and I have not forgot thee!"

The murmur, as of a voice, fell on his ear, but it brought with it no intelligence. He raised his eye;--dark shadows flitted before him; yet he saw nothing save the apparition in white: it stood yet in his view; and still the pallid visage dazzled him with its unnatural radiance and beauty.

"Miserere mei! miserere mei!" he cried, rising to his feet, and tottering forwards. "I live but to lament thee, and I breathe but to repent! Speak to me, daughter of the Alpujarras! speak to me, and let me die!"

As he spoke, the vision moved gently and slowly away. He rushed forwards, but with knees smiting together; and, as the white visage turned upon him again, with its melancholy loveliness, and with a gesture as of warning or terror, his brain spun round, his sight failed him, and he fell to the earth in a deep swoon.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Motion is the life of the sea: the surge dashes along in its course, while the watery particles that gave it bulk and form, remain in their place to renew and continue the coming billows, heaving to each successive oscillation, but not departing with it. Thus the mind,--an ocean more vast and unfathomable than that which washes our planet,--fluctuates under the impulses of its stormy nature, and pa.s.ses not away, until the last agitation, like that which shall swallow up the sea, or convert its elements into a new matter, lifts it from its continent, and introduces it to a new existence. Emotion is its life, each surge of which seems to bear it leagues from its resting-place; and yet it remains pa.s.sively to abide and figure forth the influence of new commotions.--Thus pa.s.sed the billow through the spirit of Calavar; and when it had vanished, the spirit ceased from its tumult, subsided, and lay in tranquillity to await other shocks,--for others were coming.--When he awoke from his lethargy, his head was supported on the knee of a human being, who chafed his temple and hands, and bowed his body as well as his feeble strength allowed, to recall the knight to life. Don Gabriel raised his eyes to this benignant and ministering creature; and in the disturbed visage, that hung over his own, thought,--for his mind was yet wandering,--he beheld the pallid features of the vision.

"I know thee, and I am ready!" cried Don Gabriel. "Pity me and forgive me;--for I die at thy feet, as thou didst at mine!"

"Senor mio! I am Jacinto," exclaimed the page, (for it was he,) frightened at the distraction of the knight;--"thy page, thy poor page, Jacinto."

"Is it so indeed?" said Calavar, surveying him wildly.--"And the spectre that did but now smite me to the earth!--hath she left me?"

"Dear master, there is no spectre with us," said the Moorish boy. "We are alone among the ruins."

"G.o.d be thanked!" said the knight, vehemently, "for if I should look on it more, I should die.--Yet would that I could!--would that I could! for in death there is peace,--in the grave there is forgetfulness!--This time, was it no delusion either of the senses or the brain: mine eye-sight was clear, my head sane, and I saw it, as I see mine own despair!--Pray for me, boy!" he continued, falling on his knees, and dragging the page down beside him; "pray for me!" he cried, gazing piteously at the youth; "pray for me! G.o.d will listen to _thy_ prayers, for thou art innocent, and I am miserable. Pray that G.o.d may forgive me, and suffer me to die;--for this is the day of my sin!"

"Dear master," said the page, trembling, "let us return to our friends."

"Thou wilt not pray? thou wilt not beseech G.o.d for me?" said Calavar, mournfully. "Thou wilt be merciful, when thou knowest my misery! Heaven sends thee for mine intercessor. I confess to thee, as to heaven, for thou art without sin. Manhood brings guile and impurity, evil deeds and malign thoughts; but a child is pure in the eyes of G.o.d; and the prayers of his lips will be as incense, when wrath turns from the beseeching of men. Hear thou my sin; and then, if heaven bid thee not to curse, then pray for me, boy!--then pray for me!"

In great perturbation, for he knew not how to check the knight's distraction, and feared its increasing violence, Jacinto knelt, staring at him, his hands fettered in the grasp of his master; who, returning his gaze with such looks of wo and contrition, as a penitent may give to heaven, said wildly, yet not incoherently,--

"Deeply dyed with sin am I, and sharply scourged with retribution! Age comes upon me before its time, but brings me nothing but memory--nothing but memory!--Gray hairs and wrinkles, disease and feebleness, are the portions of my manhood: for my youth was sinful, and guilt has made me old! Oh that I might see the days, when I was like to thee!--when I was like to thee, Jacinto!--when I knew innocence, and offended not G.o.d. But the virtues of childhood weigh not in the balance against the crimes of after years: as the child dieth, heaven opens to him; as the man sinneth, so doth he perish.--Miserere mei, Deus! and forgive me my day in the Alpujarras!"

As Don Gabriel p.r.o.nounced the name of those mountains, wherein, Jacinto knew, his father had drawn the first breath of life, and around which was shed, for every Moor, such interest as belongs to those places where our fathers have fought and bled, the page began to listen with curiosity, although his alarm had not altogether subsided.

"Long years have pa.s.sed; many days of peril and disaster have come and gone; and yet I have not forgotten the Alpujarras!" cried Calavar, s.h.i.+vering as he uttered the word; "for there did joy smile, and hope sicken, and fury give me to clouds and darkness forever. Those hills were the haunts of thy forefathers, Jacinto; and there, after the royal city had fallen, and Granada was ruled by the monarchs of Spain, they fled for refuge, all those n.o.ble Moriscos, who were resolute to die in their own mistaken faith, as well,--in after years,--as many others, who had truly embraced the religion of Christ, but were suspected by the bigoted of our people, and persecuted with rigour. How many wars were declared against those unhappy fugitives,--now to break down the last strong hold of the infidel, and now to punish the suspected Christian,--thou must know, if thy sire be a true Moor of Granada. In mine early youth, and in one of the later crusades, that were proclaimed against those misguided mountaineers, went I, to win the name and the laurels of a cavalier. Would that I had never won them, or that they had come to me dead on the battle-field! Know, then, Jacinto, that my nineteenth summer had not yet fled from me, when I first drew my sword in conflict with men; but if I won me reputation, at that green age, it was because heaven was minded to show me, that shame and sorrow could come as early. In those days, the royal and n.o.ble blood of Granada had not been drawn from every vein; many of the princely descendants of the Abencerrages, the Aliatars, the Ganzuls, and the Zegris, still dwelt among the mountains; and, forgetting their hereditary feuds, united together in common resistance against the Spaniards. With such men for enemies, respected alike for their birth and their valour, the war was not always a history of rapine and barbarity; and sometimes there happened such pa.s.sages of courtesy and magnanimity between the Christian and Moorish cavaliers, as recalled the memory of the days of chivalry and honour. Among others, who made experience of the heroic greatness of mind of the infidel princes, was I myself; for, in a battle, wherein the Moors prevailed against us, I was left wounded and unhorsed, on the field, to perish, or to remain a prisoner in their hands. In that melancholy condition, while I commended my soul to G.o.d, as not thinking I could escape from death, a Moorish warrior of majestic appearance and a soul still more lofty, approached, and had pity on my helplessness, instead of slaying me outright, as I truly expected. 'Thou art n.o.ble,'

said he, 'for I have seen thy deeds; and though, this day, thou hast shed the blood of a Zegri, thou shalt not perish like a dog. Mount my horse and fly, lest the approaching squadrons destroy thee; and in memory of this deed, be thou sometimes merciful to the people of Alharef.' Then knew I, that this was Alharef ben-Ismail, the most n.o.ble of the Zegris,--a youth famous, even among the Spaniards, for his courage and humanity; and in grat.i.tude and love, for he was a Christian proselyte, I pledged him my faith, and swore with him the vows of a true friends.h.i.+p. How I have kept mine oath, Alharef!" he cried, lifting his eyes to the spangled heaven, "thou knowest;--for sometimes _thou_ art with my punisher!"

The knight paused an instant, in sorrowful emotion, while Jacinto, borne by curiosity beyond the bounds of fear, bent his head to listen; then making the sign of the cross, and repeating his brief prayer, the cavalier resumed his narrative.

"As my ingrat.i.tude was greater than that of other men, so is my sin; for another act of benevolence shall weigh against me for ever!--Why did I not die with my people, when the smiles of perfidy conducted us to the hills, and the sword was drawn upon us sleeping? That night, there was but one escaped the cruel and b.l.o.o.d.y stratagem; and I, again, owed my life to the virtues of a Moor. Pity me, heaven! for thou didst send me an angel, and I repaid thy mercy with the thankfulness of a fiend!--Know, then, Jacinto, that, in the village wherein was devised and accomplished the murder of my unsuspecting companions, dwelt one that now liveth in heaven. Miserere mei! miserere mei! for she was n.o.ble and fair, and wept at the baseness of her kindred!--She covered the bleeding cavalier with her mantle, concealed him from the fury that was unrelenting; and when she had healed his wounds, guided him, in secret, from the den of devils, and dismissed him in safety near to the camp of his countrymen. Know thou now, boy, that this maiden was Zayda, the flower of all those hills, and the star that made them dearer to me than the heaven that was above them; and more thought I of those green peaks and shady valleys that encompa.s.sed my love, than the castle of my sire, or the church wherein rested the bones of my mother. Miserere mei!

miserere mei! for the faith that was pledged was broken! my lady slept in the arms of Alharef, and my heart was turned to blackness!--Now thou shalt hear me, and pray for me," continued Don Gabriel, with a look of the wildest and intensest despair, "for my sin is greater than I can bear! Now shalt thou hear how I cursed those whom I had sworn to love; how I sharpened my sword, and with vengeance and fury, went against the village of my betrayers. Oh G.o.d! how thou didst harden our hearts, when we gave their houses to the flames, and their old men and children to swords and spears! when we looked not at misery, and listened not to supplication, but slew! slew! slew! as though we struck at beasts, and not at human creatures! 'Thou sworest an oath!' cried Alharef. I laughed; for I knew I should drink his blood! 'Be merciful to my people!' he cried,--and I struck him with my sabre. Oho!" continued the knight, springing to his feet, wringing the page's hands, and glaring at him with the countenance of a demon, "when he fled from me bleeding, my heart was full of joy, and I followed him with yells of transport!--_This_ is the day, I tell thee! this is the day, and the hour! for night could not hide him!--And Zayda! ay, Zayda! Zayda!--when she s.h.i.+elded him with her bosom, when she threw herself before him--Miserere mei, Deus! miserere mei, Deus!"

"And Zayda?" cried the page, meeting his gaze with looks scarcely less expressive of wildness.

"Curse me, or pray for me," said the knight,--"for I slew her!"

The boy recoiled: Don Gabriel fell on his knees, and, with a voice husky and feeble as a child's, cried,

"I know, now, that thou cursest me, for thou lookest on me with horror!

The innocent will not pray for the guilty! the pure and holy have no pity for devils. Curse me then, for her kindred vanished from the earth, and she with them!--curse me, for I left not a drop of her blood flowing in human veins, and none in her's!--curse me, for I am her murderer, and I have not forgot it!--curse me, for G.o.d has forsaken me, and nightly her pale face glitters on me with reproach!--curse me, for I am miserable!"

While Don Gabriel still grovelled on the earth, and while the page stood yet regarding him with terror, suddenly there came to the ears of both, the shouts of soldiers, mingled with the roar of firelocks: and, as three or four cross-bow shafts rattled against the sides of the pyramid, there were visible in the moonlight as many figures of men running among the ruins, new leaping over, now darting around the fragments, as if flying for their lives from a party of armed men, who were seen rus.h.i.+ng after them on the square. The knight rose, bewildered, and, as if in the instinct of protection, again grasped the hand of the page. But now the emotions which had agitated the master, seemed transferred to his follower; and Jacinto, trembling and struggling, cried,--

"Senor mio, let me loose! For the sake of heaven, for the sake of the Zayda whom you slew, let me go!--for they are murdering my father!"

But Don Gabriel, in the confusion of his mind, still retained his grasp, and very providentially, as it appeared; for at that very moment, a voice was heard exclaiming,--

"Hold! shoot not _there_: 'tis the Penitent Knight!--Aim at the fliers.

Follow and shoot!--follow and shoot!"

Immediately the party of pursuers rushed up to the pair, one of whom paused, while the others, in obedience to his command, continued the chase, ever and anon sending a bolt after the fugitives.

"On, and spare not, ye knaves!" cried Sandoval, for it was this cavalier who now stood at the side of the knight of Rhodes. "On, and shoot! on and shoot! and see that ye bring me the head of the Moor! Oho, my merry little page!" he cried, regarding Jacinto; "you have been playing Sir _Quimichin_, Sir Rat and Sir Spy? A cunning little brat, faith; but we'll catch thy villain father, notwithstanding!"

The page bowed his head and sobbed, but was silent; and Don Gabriel, rallying his confused spirits a little, said,--

"I know not what you mean, senor. We are no spies, but very miserable penitents."

"Oh, sir knight, I crave your pardon," said Sandoval, without noticing the eccentric portion of his confession, "I meant not to intrude upon your secrecy, but to catch Abdalla, the deserter; of whom, and of whose rogueries, not doubting that this boy has full knowledge, I must beg your permission to conduct him to the general."

"Surely," said Calavar mildly, "if Jacinto have offended, I will not strive to screen him from examination, but only from punishment. I consent you shall lead him to Cortes; and I will myself accompany you."

"It is enough, n.o.ble knight, if thou wilt thyself condescend to conduct him," said the cavalier; "whereby I shall be left in freedom to follow a more urgent duty. G.o.d save you, sir knight;--I leave the boy in your charge."--So saying, Sandoval pursued hastily after his companions; and Calavar leading the page, now no longer unwilling, (for the Almogavar, with his companions, was long since out of sight,) pursued his melancholy way to the quarters.