Egiza had not beheld the efforts of the Gallician in the strife in which he perished;
he had not seen his fiery energies striving to the last, for the rescue first, and
finally for the avenging of his innocent sister. He felt, consequently, but little or
none of that interest in the fortunes of the group which a previous knowledge of
events must have inspired. But there was still enough that was painfully picturesque
in the situation to rivet his regard. It had been a scene for the patriot painter,
seeking to leave a record of the fruits of despotism, which should be an argument to
all succeeding ages. When the cavalcade of Roderick had gone by, and it was safe
for him to emerge from the buttress, in the rear of which he stood, he hurried with
a painful sort of curiosity to the back part of the recess, where the group found
shelter, anxious to learn the particulars of their history, the catastrophe of which,
so far, was amply delivered in the two silent forms now lying beside their lonely
mother. The man who had found a similar cover with himself, on the approach of
Roderick's party, behind another buttress of the walls, as if moved by a like curiosity,
followed his steps—and they both stood, but without speech, in the presence
of the woman. She looked up after a pause of a few brief moments, in which her
lips had moved, though in the utterance of no distinguishable words.

“What come ye for?” she demanded; “ye can do them no more hurt. Feel
them, they move not—they have no more life. But this morning the boy brought
me water. Look now!” She raised his head as she spoke, and let it fall suddenly
upon her lap. The blood and matter oozed out from the cloven skull as she did so,
and lay in clotted masses upon her garments; but she seemed not to heed; while,
lifting the head of the girl with more of tenderness, she subjected it to a like test,
and allowed it to fall with its own unresisted weight upon the lap beside that of her
brother.

“Is't not enough?” she demanded. “Would you give them more blows? You
may, but they cannot feel them. Go, take away your bloody axes from my sight.
You would not strike the dead. No, take them away.”

“We have no axes, good mother. You mistake us,” said the prince. “We are
not soldiers—our hands have not done this.”

“I see them—think you to hide them from me? But I care not—I fear them not.
Perhaps, it is me that you would strike now. Toro said you would. He always
said that the soldiers would as soon strike a woman as a man, and perhaps sooner,
since then they had not so much to fear in return. But you may strike—strike,
only give me time to say a prayer, and perhaps a curse. I would curse—it is easier
to curse than to pray, when one's children are murdered. Toro, I will curse for
you first, and the curse shall be upon the Gothic men! For you Toly, I will curse

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all the Gothie women!—let the devils hear!—let them come out of the tombs and
hear, for I would give them work. Are you not a Goth?” she suddenly exclaimed
to Egiza; but without waiting for his reply she continued, and her features assumed
a horrible and ghastly expression of rage as she spoke, as if they had been those of
one long familiar with curses, and thrice blasted of Heaven. “Go! I curse you
with many deaths!—with the death of all that love you!—with the death of all
that you love!—may you eat of your own hearts, bloody Goths that ye are! Go
to Roderick your master, and may ye perish like him! I curse ye all, for ye have
cursed me!”

“But we are not Goths. I, at least, am not a Goth!” was the exclamation of
Egiza.

“Nor I, mother!” hurriedly repeated the stranger, as if to divert the curse of the
desolate woman.

“It matters not!” she exclaimed. “If ye are not Goths, what are ye? Ye are
not men, or ye had not suffered these things. Ye are the base slaves of the Goth—
that serve his sway, and do his bidding; and I curse ye—with a worse curse than I
have for him! Had ye been men, ye would have fought like Toro; and then he had
lived, and Toly had lived, and I had been happy with my children; but now I have
none. Do ye not hear? Go! I give ye curses for company to travel with! Leave
me now, or handle your axes! I care not how soon you strike!”

She drew the dead bodies at the same moment in a fervent embrace to her bosom,
and looked not up once at the spectators, nor uttered another word to them, while
they remained. The scene was too painful for contemplation, and they simultaneously
turned away from it. When they had reached the outer wall of the court,
Egiza remarked more narrowly the person of his companion, and beheld with some
satisfaction that he wore upon his bosom the leathern pocket, or pannier, which
was the certain sign of the courier. This discovery delighted him.

“You are a courier?” he said.

“I am, father,” was the reply; and it reminded Egiza, that he wore the habit of
the Caulian friars.

“I would employ you then,” said Egiza. “I would have you ride with all
speed to the fortress of count Julian at Algeziras, and it may be that you will have
to pass to Ceuta. Bear this letter to the lieutenant in safety, and your reward shall
be suitable to your labor. He is a generous prince; you will not speed in vain;
and, in earnest that you shall not, here are ten leovogilds! Will you speed on this
journey?”

The man closed with him instantly, and received the money.

“What time will it be before you start?—I would have you proceed quickly,”
was the farther address of the prince.

“I will but pause to bait my horse,” was the reply. “An hour will find me on
my way to Algeziras.”

“Enough! Thou wilt deliver the missive into no hand but that of count Julian;
he will reward thee for greater trouble in so doing.”

“I believe it, father. His hand shall take it from my own. The blessed Virgin
hear me as I promise, and help me as I perform. Father, your blessing.”

The courier knelt to Egiza before he could interrupt him; and the latter, deeming
it better to maintain his assumed, than risk the exposure of his real character,
without scruple conferred the blessing which was solicited; an offence, for which
he prayed forgiveness from Heaven, the moment that he was alone. Speeding the
courier upon his way, he hurried back in the direction of the royal garden, where
the woman of his heart awaited him.

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