admiration, as does the English poet.
The Poem Opens
The opening of the Poema del Cid, as we possess it, is indeed sufficiently striking and dramatic to console us for the loss of the original commencement. The great commander, banished (c. 1088) by royal order from the house of his father through the treachery of the Leonese party at the Court of King Alfonso, rides away disconsolately from the broken gates of his castle. A fairly accurate translation of this fine passage might read as follows:
He turns to see the ruined hold, the tears fall thick and fast,
The empty chests, the broken gates, all open to the blast.
Sans raiment are the wardrobes, reft of mantle and of vair,
The empty hollow of the hall of tapestry is bare.
No feather in the falconry, no hawk to come to hand,
A noble beggar must the Cid renounce his fathers’ land.
He sighed, but as a warrior sighs. “Now I shall not repine.
All praise to Thee, our Father, for Thy grace to me and mine.
The slanderous tongue, the lying tale, have wrought my wreck to-day,
But Thou in Thy good time, O Lord, the debt wilt sure repay.”
As they rode out of Bivar flew a raven to the right,
By Burgos as they bridled the bird was still in sight.
The Cid he shrugged his shoulders as the omen he espied;
“Greetings, Cousin Alvar Fañez, we are exiles now,” he cried.
The sixty lances of the Cid rode clattering through the town;
From casement and from turret-top the burgher-folk looked down.
Sore were their hearts and salt their eyen as Roderick rode by;
“There goes a worthy vassal who has known bad mastery.”
And many a roof that night had sheltered Roderick and his band
But for the dread in Burgos of Alfonso’s heavy hand.
The missive broad with kingly seals had run throughout the town:
“Who aids the Cid in banishment, his house shall be cast down.”
So as the train rode through the streets each eye was turned aside,
All silent was the town-house where the Cid was wont to bide;
Both lock and bar were on the gates, he might not enter there.
Then from a casement spoke a maid who had the house in care:
“My lord Don Roderick, who took the sword in happy hour,
The King hath sent a letter broad to ban from hall and bower
Both thee and all thy company, ’tis doom to shelter one;
Never again who aids thee shall his eyes look on the sun.
Now go, and Goddës help with thee, thy pity we implore;
In all broad Spain thou canst not lack, O Cid Campéador.”
Finding no place to lay their heads within the town, the Cid with his men rode disconsolately to the plain of Glera, to the east of Burgos, where he pitched his tents on the banks of the river Arlanzon. To him came Martin Antolinez, one of his former vassals, who brought food and wine for all his train and strove to comfort him. Not a maravedi had the Cid, and how to furnish his men with arms and food he knew not. But he and Antolinez took counsel together, and hit upon a plan by which they hoped to procure the necessary sinews of war. Taking two large chests, they covered them with red leather and studded them with gilt nails, so that they made a brave outward show. Then they filled the chests with sand from the river-banks and locked them securely.
Money-lending in the Eleventh Century
“Martin Antolinez,” said the Cid, “thou art a true man and a good vassal. Go thou to the Jews Raquel and Vidas, and tell them I have much treasure which I desire to leave with them since it is too weighty to carry along with me. Pledge thou these chests with them for what may seem reasonable. I call God and all His saints to witness that I do this thing because I am driven to extremity and for the sake of those who depend upon me.” Antolinez, rather fearful of his mission, sought out the Jews Raquel and Vidas where they counted out their wealth and their profits. He told them that the Cid had levied much tribute which he found it impossible to carry with him, and that he would pledge this with them if they would lend him a reasonable sum upon it. But he stipulated that they must solemnly bind themselves not to open the chests for a year to come. The Jews took counsel together, and consented to hide the chests and not to look upon their contents for a year at least.
“But tell us,” they said, “what sum will content the Cid, and what interest will he give us for the year?”
“Needy men gather to my lord the Cid from all sides,” replied Antolinez. “He will require at least six hundred marks.”
“We will willingly give that sum,” said Raquel and Vidas, “for the treasure of such a great lord as the Cid must indeed be immense.”
“Hasten then,” said Antolinez, “for night approaches, and my lord the Cid is under decree of banishment to quit Castile at once.”
“Nay,” said the Jews, after the manner of their kind. “Business is not done thus, but by first taking and then giving.” They then requested to be taken to where the Cid lay, and having greeted him, paid over the sum agreed upon. They were surprised and delighted at the weight of the chests, and departed well satisfied, giving Antolinez a present or commission of thirty golden marks for the share he had taken in the business.
Donna Ximena
When they had gone the Cid struck his camp and galloped through the night to the monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña, where his lady, Donna Ximena, and his two young daughters lay. He found them deeply engaged in prayer for his welfare, and they received him with heartfelt expressions of joy. Taking the Abbot aside, the Cid explained to him that he was about to fare forth on adventure in the country of the Moors, and tendered him such a sum as would provide for the maintenance of Donna Ximena and her daughters until his return, as well as a goodly bounty for the convent’s sake.
By this time tidings of the Cid’s banishment had gone through the land broadcast, and so
