THE PUMP ROOM

In the Pump-room, so admirably adapted for secret discourse and unlimited confidence.

NORTHANGER ABBEY.

ZAMORA AND ITS FAMOUS SIEGE

On December 27, 1065, Ferdinand the First of Spain, called the Great, lay dying. The most statesmanlike accomplishment of his long and distinguished reign had been to unite under one crown the kingdoms of León and Castile. Ferdinand had always kept this aim before him, for he knew how often civil war between rival counts and kinglets had kept the Christians from exerting their full strength against their traditional enemies, the Moors. Yet, on his death-bed, family affection overcame his royal judgment, and he undid in an hour the work of a lifetime. He had five children, and he felt bound to leave to each one some part of his kingdom, instead of allowing his entire domain to pass with the crown to the prince royal. So he willed Castile to Sancho, the eldest son, León to Alfonso, and to Garcia, the youngest boy, he gave Galicia, a new kingdom on the confines of Portugal. His two daughters he remembered with walled towns: Toro he gave to Elvira; and to Urraca, the elder, Zamora.

Zamora was at that time one of the most impregnable fortresses of Spain. The river Duero cuts close under its steep south rock, and the rest of its hill was then encircled by massive protecting walls. Sancho, called the Strong, who had not waited for his father's last breath to decide that a united kingdom was worth more than a testament, defeated his two brothers and seized their kingdoms in less than seven years. Elvira resigned her heritage without a struggle. But when Sancho, with the united armies of Castile and León at his back, sate down before Zamora, he is said to have

exclaimed: "If I hold Zamora, I hold Spain." He knew the task which lay before him, and which gave rise to the Spanish proverb, "Zamora was never won in an hour," as in English we say, "Rome was not built in a day." Urraca and her citadel represented to him the final obstacle which lay between him and the broad highway of uncontested sovereignty.

Urraca was of sharper mettle than her sister. When Sancho sent an embassy, headed by the most famous champion of his time, Roderick the Cid, to offer her certain other lands in exchange for her city, she summoned her knights and elders, and laid the case before them. Should she secretly escape from the town and take refuge in Toledo with one of the Moorish kings, as her brother Alfonso had done, or should she stay and fight to the limit of her endurance and that of her citizens? She left the decision to her counsellors. They, fully conscious of the gravity of the case, declared their willingness to support their lady to the death. The embassy returned to Sancho with the negative reply, and the siege

was on.

It lasted seven months, and we may suppose consisted of the usual attacks and repulses, forays and withdrawals, with cross-bowmen shooting from behind the merlons at knights encased in steel from head to foot. Occasionally the besiegers made the effort to cross the moat and place ladders against the masonry. Before the invention of gunpowder, walls like those of Zamora were a genuine shield, and it required an overwhelming superiority of numbers to master them. In the end the siege developed into a starvation.

Numerous enemies of Sancho had come in to aid the Zamorans. Among them was one Vellido Dolfos, a Galician, the villain-or the hero of the ensuing drama. As Urraca was on the point of surrendering in despair, for Sancho had all the resources of northern Spain to draw on, and she none outside her walls, this stranger knight presented himself, and asked her to stay for a few days the execution of her decision.

He undertook to raise the siege if she would trust him. Urraca did not know what scheme he had in mind, but she accepted his offer, and promised to reward him in the event of success.

Vellido's plan was classic in its treachery. In Babylon, in Troy, in a hundred sieges, it had been tried, sometimes with success, sometimes with failure. Urraca's oldest counsellor, the most trusted and honorable, was Arias Gonzalo, of whom and of whose sons more will be told. Arias, fearing a treason which he scorned to profit by, demanded of Vellido that he explain his plan. This gave the Galician the opening he wished. He provoked a quarrel with the aged knight, and, threatened with punishment, fled straight out of the city to Sancho's camp. To the king he represented that he had been nearly murdered for suggesting that the city be surrendered. He offered his services to Sancho and promised to show him a gate little guarded, easy to storm.

All the warnings of Arias Gonzalo, who shouted from the walls that the king had better beware of the traitor, only served to bear out the story of the wily Vellido. Sancho was deceived, and with the undue confidence of a headstrong monarch, went unescorted with Vellido to reconnoiter the postern. Catching the king in a careless moment, Vellido hurled a javelin into his back with such force that the point appeared through his breast. So died Sancho II, on October 6, 1072, at the age of 35.

The legend goes on to say that the Cid caught a glimpse of Vellido fleeing toward the walls, seized the nearest horse, and pursued the Galician to the very gate; and that, failing his quarry, he uttered a forceful and comprehensive curse on any knight who left his tent without his spurs, as he had done that day. This, says the ancient chronicler, was the only mistake the Cid ever made in all his life as a warrior: that he did not ride through the open gate into the town and kill Vellido within, even at the risk of his life. But, he adds, for fear the fame of Spain's legendary hero might be a little

tarnished, it was not from cowardice that the Cid failed to seize his opportunity, but from lack of quick thinking.

At this point, where the drama of the siege of Zamora seems to close, it really is just approaching its climax. For, whether or not Urraca and her Zamorans knew in advance of the treachery which Vellido had in mind when he left the city, they had given him refuge there after its accomplishment, and so shared the responsibility for his treason. According to the law of the day, the city and all its inhabitants could be collectively challenged to defend themselves against the charge of high treason; and this challenge was made by a strong knight of the house of Lara, Diego Ordóñez, one of the king's army. Clad in complete armor he rode before the walls and delivered the traditional challenge in these words: "The Castilians have lost their lord; he was slain by the traitor Vellido Dolfos, who was his vassal, and after his treason ye received him into Zamora. I say therefore that he is a traitor, and a traitor he who keeps him with him if he knew beforehand of the treason or permitted it or could have prevented it. And I challenge the Zamorans great and small, the living and the dead, the born and the yet unborn, and the water they drink, and the clothes they wear, and even the stones of the walls. And if anyone in Zamora denies my charge, I will fight him: and if God will that I win, ye shall all be known as traitors."

The challenge was answered by the aged Arias Gonzalo, who repelled the accusation. Then he informed the challenger that the laws required that anyone who challenged a community must fight with five defenders, one after another. The challenger was allowed no compensating advantage except that after each single combat he might change his armor and his horse, "and eat three sops and drink wine or water, whichever he preferred." "And if he shall defeat the five, he shall be held to tell the truth: and if any one of the five shall defeat him, he shall be held a liar."

The first act of Doña Urraca, in preparation for the coming

combat, was to call all her subjects together and ask them whether any one had had previous knowledge of Vellido's plans; for if he had, the defenders in the lists were certain. to lose, and, as Arias Gonzalo put it, he would far rather flee with his sons to the land of the Moors than to be beaten in the lists and dubbed traitor. All the inhabitants vowed their innocence, so Arias was able to proceed with the selection of the city's champions. At first he wished himself to fight; but Doña Urraca dissuaded him with the plea that she could not take the risk of being deprived of his counsel. So Arias rejected the offers of other knights, and chose, as the first defender, his own youngest son, Pedrarias.

The lists were laid out on a sandy strip near the river, where the old Romanesque church of Santiago now stands. A roomy circle was drawn, and the rule was announced that whichever combatant should be forced out of the ring was to be considered beaten. One can imagine, or, if he likes, read, in a seventeenth century play upon the subject, the emotions of the father as he watched his inexperienced son clash with the stout and wily champion of the besiegers. Both lances were quickly broken, and the swords were drawn. "Ah!" exclaimed Arias Gonzalo, "I wish I could be in his body! I would have timed that blow better!" According to the chronicle, the first combat lasted till noon, and then the challenger with a mighty blow broke Pedrarias' helmet and wounded him mortally. With his dying breath he cut Diego Ordóñez's reins and wounded his horse so that it started to gallop out of the lists. But Diego let himself fall from the saddle just in time to remain inside. He rose and shouted toward the walls: "Come, Arias Gonzalo, send me another son, for this one will never run your errands again!"

After a rest, and his "three sops and a drink of wine," the challenger came forth with fresh armor and a spirited roan. The second son of Arias, Diego, was well fortified with advice from his father, who urged him to avoid the rashness. of his brother and remember that skill and a cool head count