University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V

Obedient to the commands of Roderick, the soldiers in attendance proceeded to
thrust Romano forth from the presence; but, though greatly enfeebled by exhaustion,
this was not to be done without difficulty. He struggled still to maintain his
ground, and to resist the strong arms which grappled him. The efforts that he made
for this purpose were much beyond his natural strength; but he had been an ascetic,
and his looks belied the vigor which had grown exceeding great through severe abstinence.
His morbid imagination was also active to strengthen him beyond his ordinary
nature. While he strove, the white foam gathered around his mouth, and
the clenched teeth shone fearfully through the pallid lips, like those of some famished
wolf. He was borne back from the pathway of the king, who had now risen;
but still, as they hurried him backward, he continued to shake his lock and hurl his
curses at the tyrant; the lock being conspicuously, but perhaps unconsciously, raised
in one hand, and the cross which he commonly wore extended in the other. Roderick
scorned the priest's feeble efforts too much to be greatly enraged with him, and
he contented himself with saving to Romano, as he was hurried from his sight:

“Does thy God hear thee? Thou wouldst have him blast me, wouldst thou?
old dotard, as thou art! But thou invok'st Him in vain! I laugh at thy curses,
and spare thee for thy insolence because of thy excess of years and folly!”

“Wait but a while—but a little while, proud Roderick! I see the bolt that is
hidden from thee; I hear the voice and the thunder! God speed them to his own
glory!—God speed them to thy confusion! Go—go to thy crime!—speed to the

sacrilege thou aim'st at! But the vengeance is on its way, and thou but hurriest to
meet it! Go, then, Roderick, to thy doom! I blast thee with Heaven's curses!—I
mark thee as one that Heaven has marked for vengeance! The bolt is shot—I see
it; and thou canst not fly! The shaft is aimed, and thou art without shield to breast
it! Thou fliest—but thou fliest in vain!—the red sulphur chases thee!—the fire is
upon thee!—thy crown is torn from thy brows! Spare me, oh God of mercies!
spare me the sight!”

Raving thus, even to exhaustion, the venerable Romano fell upon his face, still
struggling with those who held held him, and muttering still, though incoherently,
the curses which he continued to invoke upon Roderick.

“Away with him!” cried Roderick, hoarsely; “away with him!—he speaks
folly!”

Although the king affected to despise and to disregard the holy man, it could be
seen by those around him that he trembled even while he spoke, with sudden emotion;
while Egilona, with many tears, sought to prevail upon him to forego his
purposes. But the heart of the king was hardened against her solicitations. Too
much prosperity had blinded him to truth or prudence; and a false and unhappy
pride—a deluding self-esteem—prompted him to continue firm in his first resolution
to explore the cavern. The very interposition of those about him, who were most
worthy of his consideration, as it made him jealous of their adhesion, strengthened
him in his perverse judgment; and an adroit remark of the archbishop, who deplored,
in the king's hearing, but not in the hearing of Romano, the excess of zeal that had
been shown by his holy brother, confirmed Roderick in the contempt which he had
expressed for Romano's ravings. He silenced their further pleading by a fierce repetition
of his resolve:

“Lead on, with thy soldiers, Edeco! I swear by the horns of the crown, to find
this secret, if there be any, and abolish this idle mummery, if there be none. The
House of Hercules is the house of the Goth; shall he be ignorant of what it holds?
Lead on, then, I say, and no more of this howling!”

The lord bishop Oppas with a secret heart exulted in this movement, though his
hands and eyes were still uplifted in a sort of holy horror. He still continued to
urge the king, but without avail, until he saw him depart on his way, with all his
guards and many courtiers. When left to himself, the archbishop uttered his exultation
aloud:

“It is done!—his madness is better than that of Romano. We shall succeed;
between the zealot and the tyrant the game is certain. Now, let Hercules speak
what he may, well I know the language of the church; and these Iberians—these
despised Iberians—shall they not hear of this scorn of their giant and themselves?
That is my care. They shall hear it all!”

He hurried away, with these words, to his own palace, from the towers of which
he beheld the procession of the king—a motley procession of nobles and guards—
some following through obedience, some through curiosity, but all with mingled
emotions of doubt and confidence. The Mystery of the House of Hercules was a
faith so popular, and held to be of such marvellous import in Spain, that there were
but few even of the higher classes of the people that were not in some degree the
subjects of its influence. The natives hung about the procession at a respectful distance;
and had Roderick deigned to study or to examine the faces of those who came
near him, he would have seen much to induce a pause in his progress, if not a repentance
of his headstrong resolution.

Meanwhile, the king, doubly resolute in his purpose because of the strong opposition
and entreaty he had met with, made his way toward the isolated pile which

was distinguished as the possession of Hercules, and which, with other marvellous
feats of that demigod in Spain, gave him a title to be recognized as the tutular divinity
of the country. The tradition says of this fabric that—“When Hercules the
Strong came to Spain, he made in it many marvellous things, in those places where
he understood that they might best remain, and thus when he was in Toledo, he understood
well that that city would be the best of Spain, and saw that the kings of
Spain would have more pleasure to dwell therein than in any other part, and seeing
that things would come after many ways, some contrariwise to others, it pleased him
to leave many enchantments, made to the end that after his death his power and his
wisdom might by them be known. And he made in Toledo a house,” &c. Then
follows a description of this house, part of which has been given by Romano to the
king, and we forbear repetition. “And he commanded”—continues the tradition—
“that neither lord nor king of Spain who might come after him should seek to know
that which was within, but that every one instead should put a lock upon the door
thereof, even as he himself did, for he first put on a lock and fastened it with his
key.”

But the violent spirit of Roderick, as we have seen, brooked no such dictation. In
vain did sundry of his nobles, while he continued his march toward the enchanted
tower, urge upon him to forbear, and give up the hidden quest; he heeded them not,
but with a momently increasing train he at length reached the rocky dwelling which
he had resolved to enter. But this was no easy matter. Many were the locks already
affixed upon the brazen gate, for which there were no keys—and bolts, and
other modes of securing the entrance, had also been adopted by those whose solicitude
had ever been to keep fast the secret of Hercules. But these were obstacles
only, and not preventives, in the way of the usurper. He commanded pincers and
other appliances to be brought, with which lock after lock was broken. Vainly but
earnestly did the faithful Bovis, and others whose sense of duty was paramount to
all other considerations, plead to the last with the inflexible and wilful monarch.
In the old “Chronicles of the King Roderigo,” there is a rude representation on
wood of the opening of the enchanted tower. A slave with huge instruments is
breaking the locks. Near him stands Roderick, in his royal robes. At his feet a
priest kneels, endeavoring to dissuade him from his purpose. A Gothic noble, also,
holds up his hand in warning to that mad temerity which seemed reckless of all
consequences. But they counselled and implored in vain. The heart of Roderick
was haughty and unyielding, like his countenance. The slaves proceeded with their
labors, and at length, to the great delight of the usurper, the last lock was broken
and the last rivet drawn which secured the massive gate against his progress. At
that moment a dreadful shriek was heard to issue from the cavern, and a noise like
thunder. The workmen threw down their instruments and fled in affright. All
shrunk back from the entrance but Roderick, who, noways alarmed, advanced resolutely
and laid his hand upon the gate. At this moment the lord Bovis once more
rushed between, and with earnest address implored him to forbear.

“It is not too late, oh Roderick! to forego thy purpose. I speak not in fear of
Hercules or of his enchantments; but look upon these sullen slaves, who crowd the
walls of the city, and from the hills gather round to gaze at us. Already is rage
mingled with the religious horror upon their faces; and they but wait as if to hear
the command of their god, calling upon them to destroy thee. Pause, oh Roderick!
while yet in time. It is not too late!”

But the heart of the king was hardened, and the fiat had gone forth for his destruction.
Who can save him whom God would destroy? The supplication of Bovis
was in vain.

“It is too late, Bovis! Shall I confess to these vile dastards that I fear them?
Shall I say that I believe in their folly, and shrink from the direction of my own
mind? No!—it is too late! It might have been wiser not to have moved upon this
business; but it will not be wise for me to leave it now. The king who recedes
from his resolves, encourages the resolution of the slave, and is no longer a proper
monarch. Let me perish ere I do this! Thou art answered, Bovis.”

“I am—but not satisfied, oh Roderick! with thy answer. If thou wilt give me
none other, I will share thy danger—I will go with thee into the cavern.”

The king warmly grasped the hand of his faithful counsellor, and his eye glistened,
but he said nothing in reply. Boldly throwing aside the gate, which swung
easily round at his touch, he darted into the cavern, and was instantly followed by
the equally resolved but more rational Bovis. They had scarcely entered when the
gate, of itself, swung back and closed upon them, shutting them in from that anxious
but timid crowd who waited without, and who, in the general silence that followed
the departure of the king from sight, now began to imagine a thousand terrible
dangers for him and for themselves.

They had not waited long, however, before the massive gate was again thrown
open, and the king rushed forth followed by Bovis. But he did not return with the
same confident countenance with which he had departed. His eyes were wild, and
seemed starting from his head, in the extremity of his terror—his sword was bared
in his hand—the hair was erect upon his brows, and the thick sweat fell from
him like rain. He grasped the arm of Bovis and stared wildly in his face; but the
words that fell from his lips had no meaning for the crowd. It was well that they
stood away from the cavern's mouth, and that the dimness of twilight was around
the two, so that the consternation of the king was not so clearly seen by the people as
by his companion, who did not seem so greatly the victim of his apprehension. He
strove to soothe the king, who spoke in fitful and incoherent language.

“Be calm, oh Roderick! I pray thee; let not the people see thee thus. Remember
thou hast the robes of a king about thee, and thine eye should have the fire of
an eagle. For shame, Roderick!—it is not becoming in thee.”

It was thus that he strove to chide into subjection the weakness which the king
exhibited; but that was not so easy a labor.

“Thou saw'st it!” exclaimed Roderick; “the king—myself—him that was Roderick!
Was not that Orelio he bestrode? It was!—and he fled! I saw it—with
mine own eyes I saw it!”

“I saw a horse and a man upon him in flight, or something that had the look of
man and horse,” replied Bovis, with indifference.

“'Twas Orelio—my own sable steed, Orelio; but the flying caitiff who bestrode
him—tell me, Bovis, that it was not Roderick. Thou dost not think that he would
fly thus from the accursed Moslem! Thou darest not think it of thy sovereign!”

“Speak not thus, for the people approach us. Be calm—be firm—strive with
thyself, oh king!—so that they may see nothing of thy fear, which will strengthen
their superstitions.”

The wisdom of Bovis was unheeded by the king:

“But the rider of that steed?” he said, wildly.

“Was unlike thee, oh king!—for he fled from his foe; and thou hast never done
a thing so base. The rider was affrighted; and I pray thee, my dear master,” said
Bovis, dropping his voice as he spoke, “to forbear the look and the speech which
will bring thee too closely to such a likeness. Thou wast not the flying slave, for
thou wert beside me all the while, and didst pursue him with thy weapon”—

“Ay, and would have slain him, Bovis, but that he sunk from before me into the

engulfing earth,” exclaimed Roderick, fiercely. “Wherefore I ask thee, Bovis, did
he sink? Why did he not await my stroke? Canst thou tell me that?”

“I can tell thee nothing, my dear master, for the matter is beyond me. But this
I know, that thou lettest it trouble thee too greatly. It is a foul trick of the fiend;
or, it may be, a trick of the accursed priesthood, whom thou hast been but too reckless
to offend.”

“Perchance, perchance; and I would, Bovis, that I had given heed to thee at the
first. It were better.—But wherefore—canst thou tell me—wherefore, when I
hurled my sword at the flying fugitive, wherefore did it come back to me with the
point turned unto my hand, as if it had been caught, and so hurled to me again, by
another arm? Canst thou tell me that, Bovis?” demanded the monarch.

“We will think more of this hereafter, oh king!—but now let us meet thy
lords”—

“But the speech, Bovis—that dreadful voice!—I hear it now! What said it?
Ha!—Dost thou remember? It rings fearfully through my brain. `Thy kingdom'—
't was thus it said”—

“Heed it not, Roderick!” said his counsellor; but the king continued:

“`Shall be taken from thee!' Said it not that, Bovis?”

“Nay, Roderick, I know not—I gave it no heed,” was the reply.

“It was; but I fear them not! Let them come—the accursed Moslem—let them
come! Shall we fear? They little know my strength. I am strong, Bovis; I fear
nothing. The dream is passing away. I am once more Roderick. Bid our nobles
come nigh!”

And, truth to say, the delirium had passed away from the mind of the king when
he came to think on those dangers which were only human. He resumed his composure;
and when the courtiers once more gathered about him, he was the same
fearless spirit, and imperious sovereign, who had led them forth that morning.