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 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 hurling 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 turned 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 stayed 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 were darkened by heavy clouds; loud
bursts of thunder rent the air, and the earth was deluged with rain and
rattling hail.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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