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The morning sun shone brightly upon the cliff-built
towers of Toledo, when King Roderick
issued out of the gate of the city at the head of a
numerous train of courtiers and cavaliers, and
crossed the bridge that bestrides the deep rocky
bed of the Tagus. The shining cavalcade wound
up the road that leads among the mountains, and
soon came in sight of the necromantic tower.

Of this renowned edifice marvels are related by
the ancient Arabian and Spanish chroniclers,
“and I doubt much.” adds the venerable Agapida,
“whether many readers will not consider the
whole as a cunningly devised fable, sprung from
an oriental imagination; but it is not for me to
reject a fact which is recorded by all those writers
who are the fathers of our national history;
a fact too, which is as well attested as most of
the remarkable events in the story of Don Roderick.
None but light and inconsiderate minds,”
continues the good friar, “do hastily reject the
marvellous. To the thinking mind the whole
world is enveloped in mystery, and every thing

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is full of type and portent. To such a mind the
necromantic tower of Toledo will appear as one
of those wondrous monuments of the olden time;
one of those Egyptian and Chaldaic piles, storied
with hidden wisdom and mystic prophecy, which
have been devised in past ages, when man yet
enjoyed an intercourse with high and spiritual
natures, and when human foresight partook of
divination.”

This singular tower was round and of great
height and grandeur, erected upon a lofty rock,
and surrounded by crags and precipices. The
foundation was supported by four brazen lions,
each taller than a cavalier on horseback. The
walls were built of small pieces of jasper and
various coloured marbles, not larger than a man's
hand; so subtilely joined, however, that, but for
their different hues they might be taken for one,
entire stone. They were arranged with marvellous
cunning so as to represent battles and warlike
deeds of times and heroes long since passed
away, and the whole surface was so admirably
polished that the stones were as lustrous as glass,
and reflected the rays of the sun with such resplendent
brightness as to dazzle all beholders.[10]

King Roderick and his courtiers arrived

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wondering and amazed at the foot of the rock. Here
there was a narrow arched way cut through the
living stone; the only entrance to the tower. It
was closed by a massive iron gate, covered with
rusty locks of divers workmanship and in the
fashion of different centuries, which had been
affixed by the predecessors of Don Roderick.
On either side of the portal stood the two ancient
guardians of the tower, laden with the keys
appertaining to the locks.

The king alighted, and approaching the portals,
ordered the guardians to unlock the gate. The
hoary headed men drew back with terror.
“Alas!” cried they, “what is it your majesty
requires of us. Would you have the mischiefs
of this tower unbound, and let loose to shake the
earth to its foundations?”

The venerable archbishop Urbino likewise
implored him not to disturb a mystery which had
been held sacred from generation to generation
within the memory of man, and which even
Cæsar himself, when sovereign of Spain, had not
ventured to invade. The youthful cavaliers,
however, were eager to pursue the adventure,
and encouraged him in his rash curiosity.

“Come what come may,” exclaimed Don Roderick,
“I am resolved to penetrate the mystery
of this tower.” So saying, he again commanded
the guardians to unlock the portal. The

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ancient men obeyed with fear and trembling,
but their hands shook with age, and when they
applied the keys the locks were so rusted by
time, or of such strange workmanship, that they
resisted their feeble efforts, whereupon the young
cavaliers pressed forward and lent their aid.
Still the locks were so numerous and difficult,
that with all their eagerness and strength a great
part of the day was exhausted before the whole
of them could be mastered.

When the last bolt had yielded to the key, the
guardians and the reverend archbishop again
entreated the king to pause and reflect. “Whatever
is within this tower,” said they, “is as yet
harmless and lies bound under a mighty spell:
venture not then to open a door which may let
forth a flood of evil upon the land.” But the
anger of the king was roused, and he ordered
that the portal should be instantly thrown open.
In vain, however, did one after another exert his
strength, and equally in vain did the cavaliers
unite their forces, and apply their shoulders to
the gate; though there was neither bar nor bolt
remaining, it was perfectly immovable.

The patience of the king was now exhausted,
and he advanced to apply his hand; scarcely,
however, did he touch the iron gate, when it
swung slowly open, uttering, as it were, a dismal
groan, as it turned reluctantly upon its hinges.

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A cold, damp wind issued forth, accompanied by
a tempestuous sound. The hearts of the ancient
guardians quaked within them, and their knees
smote together; but several of the youthful cavaliers
rushed in, eager to gratify their curiosity,
or to signalize themselves in this redoubtable
enterprize. They had scarcely advanced a few
paces, however, when they recoiled, overcome
by the baleful air, or by some fearful vision.[11]
Upon this, the king ordered that fires should be
kindled to dispel the darkness, and to correct
the noxious and long imprisoned air; he then led
the way into the interior; but, though stout of
heart, he advanced with awe and hesitation.

After proceeding a short distance, he entered
a hall, or anti-chamber, on the opposite side of
which was a door, and before it, on a pedestal,
stood a gigantic figure, of the colour of bronze,
and of a terrible aspect. It held a huge mace,
which it whirled incessantly, giving such cruel
and resounding blows upon the earth as to prevent
all further entrance.

The king paused at sight of this appalling
figure, for whether it were a living being, or a
statue of magic artifice, he could not tell. On
its breast was a scroll, whereon was inscribed
in large letters, “I do my duty.”† After a little

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while Roderick plucked up heart, and addressed
it with great solemnity: “Whatever thou be,”
said he, “know that I come not to violate this
sanctuary, but to inquire into the mystery it contains;
I conjure thee, therefore, to let me pass in
safety.”

Upon this the figure paused with uplifted mace,
and the king and his train passed unmolested
through the door.

They now entered a vast chamber, of a rare
and sumptuous architecture, difficult to be described.
The walls were incrusted with the
most precious gems, so joined together as to form
one smooth and perfect surface. The lofty
dome appeared to be self-supported, and was
studded with gems, lustrous as the stars of the
firmament. There was neither wood, nor any
other common or base material to be seen
throughout the edifice. There were no windows
or other openings to admit the day, yet a radiant
light was spread throughout the place, which
seemed to shine from the walls, and to render
every object distinctly visible.

In the centre of this hall stood a table of alabaster
of the rarest workmanship, on which was
inscribed in Greek characters, that Hercules
Alcides, the Theban Greek, had founded this
tower in the year of the world three thousand
and six. Upon the table stood a golden casket,

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richly set round with precious stones, and closed
with a lock of mother of pearl, and on the lid
were inscribed the following words:

“In this coffer is contained the mystery of the
tower. The hand of none but a king can open
it; but let him beware! for marvellous events
will be revealed to him, which are to take place
before his death.”

King Roderick boldly seized upon the casket.
The venerable archbishop laid his hand upon his
arm, and made a last remonstrance. “Forbear,
my son!” said he, “desist while there is yet time.
Look not into the mysterious decrees of Providence.
God has hidden them in mercy from
our sight, and it is impious to rend the veil by
which they are concealed.”

“What have I to dread from a knowledge of
the future?” replied Roderick, with an air of
haughty presumption. “If good be destined me,
I shall enjoy it by anticipation: if evil, I shall
arm myself to meet it.” So saying he rashly
broke the lock.

Within the coffer he found nothing but a linen
cloth, folded between two tablets of copper. On
unfolding it he beheld painted on it figures of
men on horseback, of fierce demeanour, clad in
turbans and robes of various colours, after the
fashion of the Arabs, with scimitars hanging
from their necks and cross bows at their saddle

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backs, and they carried banners and pennons
with divers devices. Above them was inscribed
in Greek characters, “Rash monarch! behold the
men who are to hurl thee from thy throne, and
subdue thy kingdom!”

At sight of these things the king was troubled
in spirit, and dismay fell upon his attendants.
While they were yet regarding the paintings, it
seemed as if the figures began to move, and a
faint sound of warlike tumult arose from the
cloth, with the clash of cymbal and bray of
trumpet, the neigh of steed and shout of army;
but all was heard indistinctly, as if afar off, or in
a reverie or dream. The more they gazed, the
plainer became the motion, and the louder the
noise; and the linen cloth rolled forth, and amplified,
and spread out, as it were, a mighty banner,
and filled the hall, and mingled with the air,
until its texture was no longer visible, or appeared
as a transparent cloud. And the shadowy
figures became all in motion, and the din and
uproar became fiercer and fiercer; and whether
the whole were an animated picture, or a vision,
or an array of embodied spirits, conjured up by
supernatural power, no one present could tell.
They beheld before them a great field of battle,
where christians and moslems were engaged in
deadly conflict. They heard the rush and tramp
of steeds, the blast of trump and clarion, the

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clash of cymbal, and the stormy din of a thousand
drums. There was the clash of swords,
and maces, and battle axes, with the whistling of
arrows and the hurtling of darts and lances. The
christians quailed before the foe; the infidels
pressed upon them and put them to utter rout;
the standard of the cross was cast down, the
banner of Spain was trodden under foot, the air
resounded with shouts of triumph, with yells of
fury, and with the groans of dying men. Amidst
the flying squadrons King Roderick beheld a
crowned warrior, whose back was towards him,
but whose armour and device were his own, and
who was mounted on a white steed that resembled
his own war horse Orelia. In the confusion
of the flight, the warrior was dismounted
and was no longer to be seen, and Orelia galloped
wildly through the field of battle without
a rider.

Roderick staid to see no more, but rushed
from the fatal hall, followed by his terrified attendants.
They fled through the outer chamber,
where the gigantic figure with the whirling mace
had disappeared from his pedestal, and on issuing
into the open air, they found the two ancient
guardians of the tower lying dead at the portal,
as though they had been crushed by some mighty
blow. All nature, which had been clear and
serene, was now in wild uproar. The heavens

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were darkened by heavy clouds; loud bursts of
thunder rent the air, and the earth was deluged
with rain and rattling hail.

The king ordered that the iron portal should
be closed, but the door was immovable, and the
cavaliers were dismayed by the tremendous
turmoil and the mingled shouts and groans that
continued to prevail within. The king and his
train hastened back to Toledo, pursued and pelted
by the tempest. The mountains shook and
echoed with the thunder, trees were uprooted
and blown down, and the Tagus raged and roared
and flowed above its banks. It seemed to the
affrighted courtiers as if the phantom legions of
the tower had issued forth and mingled with the
storm, for amidst the claps of thunder and the
howling of the wind, they fancied they heard
the sound of the drums and trumpets, the shouts
of armies and the rush of steeds. Thus beaten
by tempest and overwhelmed with horror, the
king and his courtiers arrived at Toledo, clattering
across the bridge of the Tagus, and entering
the gate in headlong confusion as though they
had been pursued by an enemy.

In the morning the heavens were again serene,
and all nature was restored to tranquility. The
king, therefore, issued forth with his cavaliers
and took the road to the tower, followed by a
great multitude, for he was anxious once more

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to close the iron door, and shut up those evils
that threatened to overwhelm the land. But
lo! on coming in sight of the tower, a new wonder
met their eyes. An eagle appeared high in
the air, seeming to descend from heaven. He
bore in his beak a burning brand, and lighting
on the summit of the tower, fanned the fire with
his wings. In a little while the edifice burst
forth into a blaze as though it had been built of
rosin, and the flames mounted into the air with a
brilliancy more dazzling than the sun; nor did
they cease until every stone was consumed and
the whole was reduced to a heap of ashes. Then
there came a vast flight of birds, small of size
and sable of hue, darkening the sky like a cloud;
and they descended and wheeled in circles
round the ashes, causing so great a wind with
their wings that the whole was borne up into the
air, and scattered throughout all Spain, and
wherever a particle of that ashes fell it was as a
stain of blood. It is furthermore recorded by
ancient men and writers of former days, that all
those on whom this dust fell were afterwards
slain in battle, when the country was conquered
by the Arabs, and that the destruction of this
necromantic tower was a sign and token of the
approaching perdition of Spain.

“Let all those,” concludes the cautious friar,
“who question the verity of this most marvellous

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occurrence, consult those admirable sources of
our history, the chronicle of the Moor, Rasis, and
the work entitled, the Fall of Spain, written by
the Moor, Abulcasim Tarif Abentarique. Let
them consult, moreover, the venerable historian
Bleda, and the cloud of other Catholic Spanish
writers, who have treated of this event, and they
will find I have related nothing that has not
been printed and published under the inspection
and sanction of our holy mother church. God
alone knoweth the truth of these things; I speak
nothing but what has been handed down to me
from times of old.”

eaf221v3.n10

[10] From the minute account of the good friar, drawn from
the ancient chronicles, it would appear that the walls of the
tower were pictured in mosaic work.

eaf221v3.n11

[11] Bleda. cronica. cap. 7.

eaf221v3.dag2

† Idem.