(This post is a continuation of Don Quixote – The Captive’s Tale – Parts 1 through 11. If you haven’t done so already, it’s probably best to read those posts before continuing on here.)
This week’s is the final installment of The Captive’s Tale.
Last week, after being robbed by French pirates, the captive, his companions, and Zoraida took to sea in a small boat the French pirate captain let them have. After some struggle, they finally made it to land—though which land it was, they could not tell. They climbed part way up a mountain to get a view of the surrounding countryside.
We completed the ascent of the mountain in order to see if, from the summit, any habitation or any shepherds’ huts could be discovered. Strain our eyes as we might, however, neither dwelling, nor human being, nor path nor road could we perceive. However, we determined to push on farther, as it could not be that long before we saw someone who could tell us where we were.
What distressed me most was to see Zoraida going on foot over that rough ground, for though I once carried her on my shoulders, she was more wearied by my weariness than rested by the rest. So she would never again allow me to undergo the exertion, and she went on very patiently and cheerfully, while I led her by the hand.
We had gone rather less than a quarter of a league when the sound of a little bell fell on our ears, a clear proof that there were flocks hard by. Looking about carefully to see if any were within view, we observed a young shepherd tranquilly and unsuspiciously trimming a stick with his knife at the foot of a cork tree. We called to him, and he, raising his head, sprang nimbly to his feet, for, as we afterwards learned, the first who presented themselves to his sight were the renegade and Zoraida, and seeing them in Moorish dress he imagined that all the Moors of Barbary were upon him.
Plunging with marvelous swiftness into the thicket in front of him, he began to raise a prodigious outcry, exclaiming, “The Moors! The Moors have landed! To arms, to arms!”
We were all thrown into perplexity by these cries, not knowing what to do. Reflecting that the shouts of the shepherd would raise the country and that the mounted coastguard would come at once to see what was the matter, we agreed that the renegade must strip off his Turkish garments and put on a captive’s jacket or coat which one of our party gave him at once, though he himself was reduced to his shirt.
Commending ourselves to God, we followed the same road which we saw the shepherd take, expecting every moment that the coastguard would be down upon us. Nor did our expectation deceive us, for two hours had not passed when, coming out of the brushwood into the open ground, we perceived some fifty mounted men swiftly approaching us at a gallop.
As soon as we saw them, we stood still, waiting for them. But as they came close and, instead of the Moors they were in quest of, saw a set of poor Christians, they were taken aback. One of them asked if it could be we who were the cause of the shepherd having raised the call to arms.
I said “Yes,” and as I was about to explain to him what had occurred, and whence we came and who we were, when one of the Christians of our party recognized the horseman who had put the question to us, and before I could say anything more he exclaimed, “Thanks be to God, sirs, for bringing us to such good quarters; for, if I do not deceive myself, the ground we stand on is that of Velez Malaga unless, indeed, all my years of captivity have made me unable to recollect that you, señor, who ask who we are, are Pedro de Bustamante, my uncle.”
The Christian captive had hardly uttered these words, when the horseman threw himself off his horse, and ran to embrace the young man, crying, “Nephew of my soul and life! I recognize thee now. Long have I mourned thee as dead, I, and my sister, thy mother, and all thy kin that are still alive, and whom God has been pleased to preserve that they may enjoy the happiness of seeing thee. We knew long since that thou wert in Algiers, and from the appearance of thy garments and those of all this company, I conclude that ye have had a miraculous restoration to liberty.”
“It is true,” replied the young man, “and by-and-by we will tell you all.”
As soon as the horsemen understood that we were Christian captives, they dismounted from their horses, and each offered his to carry us to the city of Velez Malaga, which was a league and a half distant. Some of them went to bring the boat to the city, we having told them where we had left it; others took us up behind them. Zoraida was placed on the horse of the young man’s uncle.
The whole town came out to meet us, for they had by this time heard of our arrival from one who had gone on in advance. They were not astonished to see liberated captives or captive Moors, for people on that coast are well used to seeing both one and the other, but they were astonished at the beauty of Zoraida, which was just then heightened, as well by the exertion of travelling as by joy at finding herself on Christian soil, and relieved of all fear of being lost. This had brought such a glow upon her face, that unless my affection for her were deceiving me, I would venture to say that there was not a more beautiful creature in the world—at least, that I had ever seen.
We went straight to the church to return thanks to God for the mercies we had received, and when Zoraida entered it she said there were faces there like Lela Marien’s. We told her they were her images. As well as he could, the renegade explained to her what they meant, that she might adore them as if each of them were the very same Lela Marien that had spoken to her;.
She, having great intelligence and a quick and clear instinct, understood at once all he said to her about them. Thence they took us away and distributed us all in different houses in the town. As for, the renegade, Zoraida, and myself, the Christian who came with us brought us to the house of his parents, who had a fair share of the gifts of fortune, and treated us with as much kindness as they did their own son.
We remained six days in Velez, at the end of which, the renegade, having informed himself of all that was requisite for him to do, set out for the city of Granada to restore himself to the sacred bosom of the Church through the medium of the Holy Inquisition. The other released captives took their departures, each the way that seemed best to him.
Zoraida and I were left alone, with nothing more than the crowns which the courtesy of the Frenchman had bestowed upon Zoraida, out of which I bought the beast on which she rides, and I for the present attending her as her father and squire and not as her husband. We are now going to ascertain if my father is living, or if any of my brothers has had better fortune than mine has been; though, as Heaven has made me the companion of Zoraida, I think no other lot could be assigned to me, however happy, that I would rather have.
The patience with which she endures the hardships that poverty brings with it, and the eagerness she shows to become a Christian, are such that they fill me with admiration and bind me to serve her all my life, though the happiness I feel in seeing myself hers, and she mine, is disturbed and marred by my not knowing whether I shall find any corner to shelter her in my own country, or whether time and death may not have made such changes in the fortunes and lives of my father and brothers, that I shall hardly find anyone who knows me, if they are not alive.
I have no more of my story to tell you, gentlemen; whether it be an interesting or a curious one let your better judgments decide.
This is the final installment of The Captive’s Tale. Next week, we will move on to something different.
The Travels of Reverend Ólafur Egilsson
The story of the Barbary corsair raid on Iceland in 1627
Amazon listing