🧚 Legend of Count Julian and His Family. · page 2

The Countess Frandina, as has already been shown, was of courageous heart; and danger made her desperate.84 There were fifty Moorish soldiers in the garrison; she feared that they would prove treacherous, and take part with their countrymen.85 Summoning her officers, therefore, she informed them of their danger, and commanded them to put those Moors to death.86 The guards sallied forth to obey her orders.87 Thirty-five of the Moors were in the great square, unsuspicious of any danger, when they were severally singled out by their executioners, and, at a concerted signal, killed on the spot.88 The remaining fifteen took refuge in a tower.89 They saw the armada of the emir at a distance, and hoped to be able to hold out until its arrival.90 The soldiers of the countess saw it also, and made extraordinary efforts to destroy these internal enemies, before they should be attacked from without.91 They made repeated attempts to storm the tower, but were as often repulsed with severe loss.92 They then undermined it, supporting its foundations by stanchions of wood.93 To these they set fire, and withdrew to a distance, keeping up a constant shower of missiles to prevent the Moors from sallying forth to extinguish the flames.94 The stanchions were rapidly consumed; and when they gave way the tower fell to the ground.95 Some of the Moors were crushed among the ruins; others were flung to a distance, and dashed among the rocks: those who survived were instantly put to the sword.96

The fleet of the emir arrived at Ceuta about the hour of vespers.97 He landed, but found the gates closed against him.98 The countess herself spoke to him from a tower, and set him at defiance.99 The emir immediately laid siege to the city.100 He consulted the astrologer Yuza, who told him that, for seven days, his star would have the ascendant over that of the youth Alarbot; but after that time the youth would be safe from his power, and would effect his ruin.101

Alahor immediately ordered the city to be assailed on every side, and at length carried it by storm.102 The countess took refuge with her forces in the citadel, and made a desperate defence; but the walls were sapped and mined, and she saw that all resistance would soon be unavailing.103 Her only thoughts now were to conceal her child.104 “Surely,” said she, “they will not think of seeking him among the dead.”105 She led him, therefore, into the dark and dismal chapel.106 “Thou art not afraid to be alone in this darkness, my child?” said she.107

“No, mother,” replied the boy, “darkness gives silence and sleep.”108 She conducted him to the tomb of Florinda.109 “Fearest thou the dead, my child?”110 “No, mother, the dead can do no harm,—and what should I fear from my sister?”111

The countess opened the sepulchre.112 “Listen, my son,” said she.113 “There are fierce and cruel people who have come hither to murder thee.114 Stay here in company with thy sister, and be quiet as thou dost value thy life!”115 The boy, who was of a courageous nature, did as he was bidden, and remained there all that day, and all the night, and the next day until the third hour.116

In the mean time the walls of the citadel were sapped, the troops of the emir poured in at the breach, and a great part of the garrison was put to the sword.117 The countess was taken prisoner and brought before the emir.118 She appeared in his presence with a haughty demeanour, as if she had been a queen receiving homage; but when he demanded her son, she faltered, and turned pale, and replied, “My son is with the dead.”119

“Countess,” said the emir, “I am not to be deceived; tell me where you have concealed the boy, or tortures shall wring from you the secret.”120

“Emir,” replied the countess, “may the greatest torments be my portion, both here and hereafter, if what I speak be not the truth!121 My darling child lies buried with the dead.”122

The emir was confounded by the solemnity of her words; but the withered astrologer, Yuza, who stood by his side regarding the countess from beneath his bushed eyebrows, perceived trouble in her countenance and equivocation in her words.123 “Leave this matter to me,” whispered he to Alahor; “I will produce the child.”124

He ordered strict search to be made by the soldiery, and he obliged the countess to be always present.125 When they came to the chapel, her cheek turned pale and her lip quivered.126 “This,” said the subtle astrologer, “is the place of concealment.”127

The search throughout the chapel, however, was equally vain, and the soldiers were about to depart, when Yuza remarked a slight gleam of joy in the eye of the countess.128 “We are leaving our prey behind,” thought he; “the countess is exulting.”129

He now called to mind the words of her asseveration, that her child was with the dead.130 Turning suddenly to the soldiers, he ordered them to search the sepulchres.131 “If you find him not,” said he, “drag forth the bones of that wanton Cava, that they may be burnt, and the ashes scattered to the winds.”132

The soldiers searched among the tombs, and found that of Florinda partly open.133 Within lay the boy in the sound sleep of childhood, and one of the soldiers took him gently in his arms to bear him to the emir.134

When the countess beheld that her child was discovered, she rushed into the presence of Alahor, and, forgetting all her pride, threw herself upon her knees before him.135

“Mercy! mercy!” cried she, in piercing accents, “mercy on my son—my only child!136 O emir! listen to a mother’s prayer, and my lips shall kiss thy feet.137 As thou art merciful to him, so may the most high God have mercy upon thee, and heap blessings on thy head!”138

“Bear that frantic women hence,” said the emir; “but guard her well.”139

The countess was dragged away by the soldiery, without regard to her struggles and her cries, and confined in a dungeon of the citadel.140

The child was now brought to the emir.141 He had been awakened by the tumult, but gazed fearlessly on the stern countenances of the soldiers.142 Had the heart of the emir been capable of pity, it would have been touched by the tender youth and innocent beauty of the child; but his heart was as the nether millstone, and he was bent upon the destruction of the whole family of Julian.143 Calling to him the astrologer, he gave the child into his charge with a secret command.144 The withered son of the desert took the boy by the hand, and led him up the winding staircase of a tower.145 When they reached the summit, Yuza placed him on the battlements.146

“Cling not to me, my child,” said he; “there is no danger.”147 “Father, I fear not,” said the undaunted boy; “yet it is a wondrous height!”148

The child looked around with delighted eyes.149 The breeze blew his curling locks from about his face, and his cheek glowed at the boundless prospect; for the tower was reared upon that lofty promontory on which Hercules founded one of his pillars.150 The surges of the sea were heard far below beating upon the rocks, the sea-gull screamed and wheeled about the foundations of the tower, and the sails of lofty caraccas were as mere specks on the bosom of the deep.151

“Dost thou know yonder land beyond the blue water?” said Yuza.152

“It is Spain,” replied the boy; “it is the land of my father and my mother.”153

“Then stretch forth thy hands and bless it, my child,” said the astrologer.154

The boy let go his hold of the wall, and, as he stretched forth his hands, the aged son of Ishmael, exerting all the strength of his withered limbs, suddenly pushed him over the battlements.155 He fell headlong from the top of that tall tower, and not a bone in his tender frame but was crushed upon the rocks beneath.156

Alahor came to the foot of the winding stairs.157

“Is the boy safe?” cried he.158

“He is safe,” replied Yuza; “come and behold the truth with thine own eyes.”159

The emir ascended the tower and looked over the battlements, and beheld the body of the child, a shapeless mass, on the rocks far below, and the sea-gulls hovering about it; and he gave orders that it should be thrown into the sea, which was done.160

On the following morning, the countess was led forth from her dungeon into the public square.161 She knew of the death of her child, and that her own death was at hand; but she neither wept nor supplicated.162 Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes were haggard with watching, and her cheek was as the monumental stone; but there were the remains of commanding beauty in her countenance; and the majesty of her presence awed even the rabble into respect.163

A multitude of Christian prisoners were then brought forth; and Alahor cried out—“Behold the wife of Count Julian; behold one of that traitorous family which has brought ruin upon yourselves and upon your country.”164 And he ordered that they should stone her to death.165 But the Christians drew back with horror from the deed, and said—“In the hand of God is vengeance, let not her blood be upon our heads.”166 Upon this the emir swore, with horrid imprecations, that whoever of the captives refused should himself be stoned to death.167 So the cruel order was executed, and the Countess Frandina perished by the hands of her countrymen.168 Having thus accomplished his barbarous errand, the emir embarked for Spain, and ordered the citadel of Ceuta to be set on fire, and crossed the straights at night by the light of its towering flames.169

The death of Count Julian, which took place not long after, closed the tragic story of his family.170 How he died remains involved in doubt.171 Some assert that the cruel Alahor pursued him to his retreat among the mountains, and, having taken him prisoner, beheaded him; others that the Moors confined him in a dungeon, and put an end to his life with lingering torments; while others affirm that the tower of the castle of Marcuello, near Huesca, in Arragon, in which he took refuge, fell on him and crushed him to pieces.172 All agree that his latter end was miserable in the extreme, and his death violent.173 The curse of Heaven, which had thus pursued him to the grave, was extended to the very place which had given him shelter: for we are told that the castle is no longer inhabited, on account of the strange and horrible noises that are heard in it; and that visions of armed men are seen above it in the air; which are supposed to be the troubled spirits of the apostate Christians who favoured the cause of the traitor.174

In after times a stone sepulchre was shown, outside of the chapel of the castle, as the tomb of Count Julian: but the traveller and the pilgrim avoided it, or bestowed upon it a malediction; and the name of Julian has remained a by-word and a scorn in the land for the warning of all generations.175 Such ever be the lot of him who betrays his country!176

Here end the legends of the conquest of Spain.177

_Written in the Alhambra, June 10.178 1829.179