The gaunt Arab chieftain stood upon a rock as
his troops marched by; his buckler was at his
back, and he brandished in his hand a double-pointed
spear. Calling upon the several leaders
by their names, he exhorted them to direct
their attacks against the christian captains,
and especially against Ataulpho, “for the chiefs
being slain,” said he, “their followers will vanish
from before us like the morning mist.”

The Gothic nobles were easily to be distinguished
by the splendour of their arms, but the
Prince Ataulpho was conspicuous above all the
rest for the youthful grace and majesty of his
appearance, and the bravery of his array. He
was mounted on a superb Andalusian charger,
richly caparisoned with crimson velvet, embroidered
with gold. His surcoat was of like colour
and adornment, and the plumes that waved above
his burnished helmet, were of the purest white.
Ten mounted pages, magnificently attired, followed
him to the field, but their duty was not so
much to fight as to attend upon their lord, and to
furnish him with steed or weapon.

The christian troops, though irregular and
undisciplined, were full of native courage; for the
old warrior spirit of their Gothic sires still glowed
in their bosoms. There were two battalions
of infantry, but Ataulpho stationed them in the
rear, “for God forbid,” said he, “that foot soldiers

[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

should have the place of honour in the battle,
when I have so many valiant cavaliers.” As the
armies drew nigh to each other, however, it was
discovered that the advance of the Arabs was
composed of infantry. Upon this the cavaliers
checked their steeds, and requested that the foot
soldiery might advance and disperse this losel
crew, holding it beneath their dignity to contend
with pedestrian foes. The prince, however,
commanded them to charge; upon which, putting
spurs to their steeds, they rushed upon the
foe.

The Arabs stood the shock manfully, receiving
the horses upon the points of their lances; many
of the riders were shot down with bolts from
cross-bows, or stabbed with the poniards of the
moslems. The cavaliers succeeded, however, in
breaking into the midst of the battalion and
throwing it into confusion, cutting down some
with their swords, transpiercing others with their
spears, and trampling many under the hoofs of
their horses. At this moment, they were attacked
by a band of Spanish horsemen, the recreant partisans
of Count Julian. Their assault bore hard
upon their countrymen, who were disordered by
the contest with the foot soldiers, and many a
loyal christian knight fell beneath the sword of
an unnatural foe.

The foremost among these recreant warriors

[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

was the renegado cavalier whom Theodomir
had challenged in the tent of Taric. He dealt
his blows about him with a powerful arm and
with malignant fury, for nothing is more deadly
than the hatred of an apostate. In the midst of
his career he was espied by the hardy Theodomir,
who came spurring to the encounter:
“Traitor,” cried he, “I have kept my vow. This
lance has been held sacred from all other foes
to make a passage for thy perjured soul.” The
renegado had been renowned for prowess before
he became a traitor to his country, but guilt will
sap the courage of the stoutest heart. When he
beheld Theodomir rushing upon him, he would
have turned and fled; pride alone withheld him;
and, though an admirable master of defence, he
lost all skill to ward the attack of his adversary.
At the first assault the lance of Theodomir pierced
him through and through; he fell to the earth,
gnashed his teeth as he rolled in the dust, but
yielded his breath without uttering a word.

The battle now became general, and lasted
throughout the morning with varying success.
The stratagem of Taric, however, began to produce
its effect. The christian leaders and most
conspicuous cavaliers were singled out and severally
assailed by overpowering numbers. They
fought desperately, and performed miracles of
prowess, but fell, one by one, beneath a thousand

[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

wounds. Still the battle lingered on throughout
a great part of the day, and as the declining sun
shone through the clouds of dust, it seemed as
if the conflicting hosts were wrapped in smoke
and fire.

The Prince Ataulpho saw that the fortune of
battle was against him. He rode about the field
calling out the names of the bravest of his knights,
but few answered to his call, the rest lay mangled
on the field. With this handful of warriors
he endeavoured to retrieve the day, when he
was assailed by Tenderos, a partisan of Count
Julian, at the head of a body of recreant christians.
At sight of this new adversary, fire
flashed from the eyes of the prince, for Tenderos
had been brought up in his father's palace.
“Well dost thou, traitor!” cried he, “to attack
the son of thy lord, who gave thee bread; thou,
who hast betrayed thy country and thy God!”

So saying, he seized a lance from one of his
pages, and charged furiously upon the apostate;
but Tenderos met him in mid career, and the
lance of the prince was shivered upon his shield.
Ataulpho then grasped his mace, which hung at
his saddle bow, and a doubtful fight ensued. Tenderos
was powerful of frame and superior in the
use of his weapons, but the curse of treason
seemed to paralyse his arm. He wounded
Ataulpho slightly between the greaves of his

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

armour, but the prince dealt a blow with his
mace that crushed through helm and scull and
reached the brains; and Tenderos fell dead to
earth, his armour rattling as he fell.

At the same moment, a javelin hurled by an
Arab transpierced the horse of Ataulpho, which
sunk beneath him. The prince seized the reins
of the steed of Tenderos, but the faithful animal,
as though he knew him to be the foe of his late
lord, reared and plunged and refused to let him
mount. The prince, however, used him as a
shield to ward off the press of foes, while with
his sword he defended himself against those in
front of him. Taric ben Zeyad arrived at the
scene of conflict, and paused for a moment in
admiration of the surpassing prowess of the
prince; recollecting, however, that his fall would
be a death blow to his army, he spurred upon him,
and wounded him severely with his scimitar. Before
he could repeat his blow, Theodomir led up a
body of christian cavaliers to the rescue, and Taric
was parted from his prey by the tumult of the fight.
The prince sank to the earth, covered with
wounds and exhausted by the loss of blood. A
faithful page drew him from under the hoofs of
the horses, and, aided by a veteran soldier, an
ancient vassal of Ataulpho, conveyed him to a
short distance from the scene of battle, by the
side of a small stream that gushed out from

[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

among rocks. They stanched the blood that
flowed from his wounds, and washed the dust
from his face, and lay him beside the fountain.
The page sat at his head, and supported it on
his knees, and the veteran stood at his feet, with
his brow bent and his eyes full of sorrow. The
prince gradually revived, and opened his eyes.
“How fares the battle?” said he. “The struggle
is hard,” replied the soldier, “but the day may
yet be ours.”

The prince felt that the hour of his death was
at hand, and ordered that they should aid him to
rise upon his knees. They supported him between
them, and he prayed fervently for a short
time, when, finding his strength declining, he
beckoned the veteran to sit down beside him on
the rock. Continuing to kneel, he confessed
himself to that ancient soldier, having no priest
or friar to perform that office in this hour of extremity.
When he had so done, he sunk again
upon the earth and pressed it with his lips, as if
he would take a fond farewell of his beloved
country. The page would then have raised his
head, but found that his lord had yielded up
the ghost.

A number of Arab warriors, who came to the
fountain to slake their thirst, cut off the head of
the prince and bore it in triumph to Taric, crying,
“Behold the head of the christian leader.”

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Taric immediately ordered that the head should
be put upon the end of a lance, together with
the surcoat of the prince, and borne about the
field of battle, with the sound of trumpets, atabals,
and cymbals.

When the christians beheld the surcoat, and
knew the features of the prince, they were struck
with horror, and heart and hand failed them.
Theodomir endeavoured in vain to rally them,
they threw by their weapons and fled; and they
continued to fly, and the enemy to pursue and
slay them, until the darkness of the night. The
moslems then returned and plundered the christian
camp, where they found abundant spoil.

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