|
Legend Of Don Munio Sancho De HinojosaLegend Of Don Munio Sancho De Hinojosa
Legend Of Don Munio Sancho De Hinojosa
In the cloisters of the ancient Benedictine convent of San Domingo, at
Silos, in Castile, are the mouldering yet magnificent monuments of the once
powerful and chivalrous family of Hinojosa. Among these reclines the marble
figure of a knight, in complete armor, with the hands pressed together, as if
in prayer. On one side of his tomb is sculptured in relief a band of Christian
cavaliers, capturing a cavalcade of male and female Moors; on the other side,
the same cavaliers are represented kneeling before an altar. The tomb, like
most of the neighboring monuments, is almost in ruins, and the sculpture is
nearly unintelligible, excepting to the keen eye of the antiquary. The story
connected with the sepulchre, however, is still preserved in the old Spanish
chronicles, and is to the following purport:
In old times, several hundred years ago, there was a noble Castilian
cavalier, named Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa, lord of a border castle, which
had stood the brunt of many a Moorish foray. He had seventy horsemen as his
household troops, all of the ancient Castilian proof; stark warriors, hard
riders, and men of iron; with these he scoured the Moorish lands, and made
his name terrible throughout the borders. His castle hall was covered with
banners, cimeters, and Moslem helms, the trophies of his prowess. Don Munio
was, moreover, a keen huntsman, and rejoiced in hounds of all kinds, steeds
for the chase, and hawks for the towering sport of falconry. When not engaged
in warfare, his delight was to beat up the neighboring forests; and scarcely
ever did he ride forth, without hound and horn, a boar-spear in his hand, or a
hawk upon his fist, and an attendant train of huntsmen.
His wife, Dona Maria Palacin, was of a gentle and timid nature, little
fitted to be the spouse of so hardy and adventurous a knight; and many a tear
did the poor lady shed, when he sallied forth upon his daring enterprises, and
many a prayer did she offer up for his safety.
As this doughty cavalier was one day hunting, he stationed himself in a
thicket, on the borders of a green glade of the forest, and dispersed his
followers to rouse the game, and drive it toward his stand. He had not been
here long, when a cavalcade of Moors, of both sexes, came prankling over the
forest lawn. They were unarmed, and magnificently dressed in robes of tissue
and embroidery, rich shawls of India, bracelets and anklets of gold, and
jewels that sparkled in the sun.
At the head of this gay cavalcade rode a youthful cavalier, superior to
the rest in dignity and loftiness of demeanor, and in splendor of attire;
beside him was a damsel, whose veil, blown aside by the breeze, displayed a
face of surpassing beauty, and eyes cast down in maiden modesty, yet beaming
with tenderness and joy.
Don Munio thanked his stars for sending him such a prize, and exulted at
the thought of bearing home to his wife the glittering spoils of these
infidels. Putting his hunting horn to his lips, he gave a blast that rung
through the forest. His huntsmen came running from all quarters, and the
astonished Moors were surrounded and made captives.
The beautiful Moor wrung her hands in despair, and her female attendants
uttered the most piercing cries. The young Moorish cavalier alone retained
self-possession. He inquired the name of the Christian knight, who commanded
this troop of horsemen. When told that it was Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa,
his countenance lighted up. Approaching that cavalier, and kissing his hand,
"Don Munio Sancho," said he, "I have heard of your fame as a true and valiant
knight, terrible in arms, but schooled in the noble virtues of chivalry. Such
do I trust to find you. In me you behold Abadil, son of a Moorish alcayde. I
am on the way to celebrate my nuptials with this lady; chance has thrown us in
your power, but I confide in your magnanimity. Take all our treasure and
jewels; demand what ransom you think proper for our persons, but suffer us not
to be insulted nor dishonored."
When the good knight heard this appeal, and beheld the beauty of the
youthful pair, his heart was touched with tenderness and courtesy. "God
forbid," said he, "that I should disturb such happy nuptials. My prisoners in
troth shall ye be, for fifteen days, and immured within my castle, where I
claim, as conqueror, the right of celebrating your espousals."
So saying, he dispatched one of his fleetest horsemen in advance, to
notify Dona Maria Palacin of the coming of this bridal party; while he and his
huntsmen escorted the cavalcade, not as captors, but as a guard of honor. As
they drew near to the castle, the banners were hung out, and the trumpets
sounded from the battlements; and on their nearer approach, the draw-bridge
was lowered, and Dona Maria came forth to meet them, attended by her ladies
and knights, her pages and her minstrels. She took the young bride, Allifra,
in her arms, kissed her with the tenderness of a sister, and conducted her
into the castle. In the mean time, Don Munio sent forth missives in every
direction, and had viands and dainties of all kinds collected from the country
round; and the wedding of the Moorish lovers was celebrated with all possible
state and festivity. For fifteen days, the castle was given up to joy and
revelry. There were tiltings and jousts at the ring, and bull-fights, and
banquets, and dances to the sound of minstrelsy. When the fifteen days were
at an end, he made the bride and bridegroom magnificent presents, and
conducted them and their attendants safely beyond the borders. Such, in old
times, were the courtesy and generosity of a Spanish cavalier.
Several years after this event, the king of Castile summoned his nobles
to assist him in a campaign against the Moors. Don Munio Sancho was among the
first to answer to the call, with seventy horsemen, all stanch and well-tried
warriors. His wife, Dona Maria, hung about his neck. "Alas, my lord!"
exclaimed she, "how often wilt thou tempt thy fate, and when will thy thirst
for glory be appease!"
"One battle more," replied Don Munio, "one battle more, for the honor of
Castile, and I here make a vow, that when this is over, I will lay by my
sword, and repair with my cavaliers in pilgrimage to the sepulchre of our Lord
at Jerusalem." The cavaliers all joined with him in the vow, and Dona Maria
felt in some degree soothed in spirit; still, she saw with a heavy heart the
departure of her husband, and watched his banner with wistful eyes, until it
disappeared among the trees of the forest.
The king of Castile led his army to the plains of Salmanara, where they
encountered the Moorish host, near to Ucles. The battle was long and bloody;
the Christians repeatedly wavered, and were as often rallied by the energy of
their commanders. Don Munio was covered with wounds, but refused to leave the
field. The Christians at length gave way, and the king was hardly pressed,
and in danger of being captured.
Don Munio called upon his cavaliers to follow him to the rescue. "Now is
the time," cried he, "to prove your loyalty. Fall to, like brave men! We fight
for the true faith, and if we lose our lives here, we gain a better life
hereafter."
Rushing with his men between the king and his pursuers, they checked the
latter in their career, and gave time for their monarch to escape; but they
fell victims to their loyalty. They all fought to the last gasp. Don Munio was
singled out by a powerful Moorish knight, but having been wounded in the right
arm, he fought to disadvantage, and was slain. The battle being over, the Moor
paused to possess himself of the spoils of this redoubtable Christian warrior.
When he unlaced the helmet, however, and beheld the countenance of Don Munio,
he gave a great cry, and smote his breast. "Woe is me!" cried he, "I have
slain my benefactor! The flower of knightly virtue! the most magnanimous of
cavaliers!"
While the battle had been raging on the plain of Salmanara, Dona Maria
Palacin remained in her castle, a prey to the keenest anxiety. Her eyes were
ever fixed on the road that led from the country of the Moors, and often she
asked the watchman of the tower, "What seest thou?"
One evening, at the shadowy hour of twilight, the warden sounded his
horn. "I see," cried he, " a numerous train winding up the valley. There are
mingled Moors and Christians. The banner of my lord is in the advance. Joyful
tidings!" exclaimed the old seneschal: "my lord returns in triumph, and brings
captives!" Then the castle courts rang with shouts of joy; and the standard
was displayed, and the trumpets were sounded, and the draw-bridge was lowered,
and Dona Maria went forth with her ladies, and her knights, and her pages, and
her minstrels, to welcome her lord from the wars. But as the train drew nigh,
she beheld a sumptuous bier, covered with black velvet, and on it lay a
warrior, as if taking his repose: he lay in his armor, with his helmet on his
head, and his sword in his hand, as one who had never been conquered, and
around the bier were the escutcheons of the house of Hinojosa.
A number of Moorish cavaliers attended the bier, with emblems of
mourning, and with dejected countenances; and their leader cast himself at
the feet of Dona Maria, and hid his face in his hands. She beheld in him the
gallant Abadil, whom she had once welcomed with his bride to her castle; but
who now came with the body of her lord, whom he had unknowingly slain in
battle!
The sepulchre erected in the cloisters of the convent of San Domingo, was
achieved at the expense of the Moor Abadil, as a feeble testimony of his grief
for the death of the good knight Don Munio, and his reverence for his memory.
The tender and faithful Dona Maria soon followed her lord to the tomb. On one
of the stones of a small arch, beside his sepulchre, is the following simple
inscription: "Hic jacet Maria Palacin, uxor Munonis Sancij De Finojosa":
"Here lies Maria Palacin, wife of Munio Sancho de Hinojosa."
The legend of Don Munio Sancho does not conclude with his death. On the
same day on which the battle took place on the plain of Salmanara, a chaplain
of the Holy Temple at Jerusalem, while standing at the outer gate, beheld a
train of Christian cavaliers advancing, as if in pilgrimage. The chaplain was
a native of Spain, and as the pilgrims approached, he knew the foremost to be
Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa, with whom he had been well acquainted in former
times. Hastening to the patriarch, he told him of the honorable rank of the
pilgrims at the gate. The patriarch, therefore, went forth with a grand
procession of priests and monks, and received the pilgrims with all due honor.
There were seventy cavaliers, beside their leader, all stark and lofty
warriors. They carried their helmets in their hands, and their faces were
deadly pale. They greeted no one, nor looked either to the right or to the
left, but entered the chapel, and kneeling before the sepulchre of our
Saviour, performed their orisons in silence. When they had concluded, they
rose as if to depart, and the patriarch and his attendants advanced to speak
to them, but they were no more to be seen. Every one marvelled what could be
the meaning of this prodigy. The patriarch carefully noted down the day, and
sent to Castile to learn tidings of Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa. He received
for reply, that on the very day specified, that worthy knight, with seventy of
his followers, had been slain in battle. These, therefore, must have been the
blessed spirits of those Christian warriors, come to fulfil their vow of
pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. Such was Castilian faith, in
the olden time, which kept its word, even beyond the grave.
If any one should doubt of the miraculous apparition of these phantom
knights, let him consult the History of the Kings of Castile and Leon, by the
learned and pious Fray Prudencio de Sandoval, bishop of Pamplona, where he
will find it recorded in the History of King Don Alonzo VI, on the hundred
and second page. It is too precious a legend, to be lightly abandoned to the
doubter.
|
