“Doubt not the words of Don Julian, O Emir,” he cries. “The wrong which Roderich has wrought him would move the lowest Berber of the desert to revenge. By his offer, O Emir, a new land spreads out before us, inviting us to conquest. What is to prevent us from becoming the inheritors of the Goth? Let me go forth with Don Julian and prove the land.” The bold words of “the one-eyed Tháryk” find favour with Mousa and the chiefs. “Allah is great,” is their answer. “Mahomet the Prophet speaks by the mouth of Tháryk. Let it be as he desires.” So Julian and Tháryk departed with five galleys and five hundred men; landed at Algeciras in the Bay of Gibraltar (Gibel Taric to this day, in memory of him), and returned to Africa with such tidings of the power of Julian to raise the land, that a formidable invasion was decided on. [Illustration] [Illustration: MOHAMMED.] CHAPTER V Landing of the Moors--The Eve of Battle Don Roderich, seated with the beauteous Queen Egilona in the royal castle of Toledo, eagerly questions a herald sent forward by Teodomir from Murcia. “What tidings from the south?” he asks. “Of great woe,” is the answer. “Already the rock of Calpe has fallen. The noble Teodomir is wounded. The Gothic troops, O King, fly before the Moslem. Whether they come from heaven or hell we know not. They have no ships, yet they overrun the coast. Send us aid with speed.” At this dismal news Roderich turned to the wall and covered his face with his robe. Changed as he was from the valorous young hero of earlier days, enervated and sensual, the blood of brave warriors flowed in his veins, and shame and remorse overwhelmed him. Not one word could Egilona draw from him. To the pressure of her soft arms he did not respond; nor did he heed the kisses she showered on him, as, parting the long meshes of his flowing locks, she strove to uncover his face. Around, the courtiers stand mute, each man with his eyes fixed on the earth. An awful silence follows, broken only by the sobs of the queen, as messenger after messenger rides in, distracting the city with fresh tales of woe. So easy had the treachery of Julian made conquest for the Moors, that already the coast of Andalusia bristled with scimitars, and bands of turbaned horsemen had overrun the plains to the banks of the Guadalete.