G. “THE CID AND THE MOORISH KING”
The word for ballad in Spanish is romance. The Iberian Peninsula, like the British Isles, has a long and voluminous ballad tradition going back at least as far as the fifteenth century, but probably having oral antecedents from much earlier times. The Spanish ballad tradition, the romancero, includes many folk songs about the Cid. It has long been recognized that many of these songs seem to paraphrase or even excerpt scenes and episodes from epics and chronicles. The relationship between the romances and earlier written works is very complex and controversial. What is certain is that the Cid of the romancero is even further removed from the hero of The Epic of the Cid and the chronicles than the Rodrigo of The Youthful Deeds. This is partly due to the narrative form of ballads, which are short poems that present a scene, a brief episode, and a few snippets of dialog. Ballads are terse and elliptical; they assume the audience knows the folklore, popular history, and singing tradition behind any given poem. Another reason for the difference between the earlier and later Cid is the change in popular taste. Ballads eschew politics, making everything personal. So the siege and occupation of Valencia, in the following romance, are merely a backdrop to the face-to-face confrontation at center stage. The Cid of this ballad is a bit picaresque. He actually asks his daughter to flirt with the Moor in order to distract him—a ruse that would be unimaginable in The Epic of the Cid.
The original is in the traditional Spanish ballad meter, an eight-syllable line with
assonanced rhyme. The ballad is here rendered in prose.25
There he goes, there he goes, riding down the road: a Moor mounted on a bay mare. His boots were of Moroccan leather, of beaten gold his spurs. In one hand he holds a shield, in the other a Moorish lance.
He beheld Valencia: how nearby she was!
“Oh, Valencia, Valencia, may you burn in hellfire! You belonged to the Moors before the Christians took you. If my lance tells me no lie, to the Moors you will be returned. I will seize that dog the Cid by his beard; his wife Doña Jimena will be my captive, and his daughter Urraca Hernando will be my sweetheart. When I’m tired of her, I’ll hand her over to my men.”26 The good Cid was not too far away—he overheard all the Moor was saying.
“Come here, my daughter, my daughter, Doña Urraca. Take off your everyday clothes and put on your Sunday best. You keep that Moorish son-of-a-dog busy with sweet words, while I saddle Babieca and gird on my sword.”
The beautiful damsel leaned out her window; no sooner did the Moor catch sight of her than he spoke to her these words:
“Allah keep you, lady, my lady Doña Urraca!”
“Likewise, my lord, and be you most welcome here! For seven years already, my king, full seven years have I been sweet on you.”
“For as many years, my lady, I have held you in my heart!”
As these two were thus occupied, the good Cid appeared.
“Farewell, farewell, my lady, my sweetheart oh so fair. For I clearly hear the sound of the horse Babieca’s hooves!”
Wherever the mare puts her hoof, Babieca plants his own.
Then the horse himself spoke up—listen close to what he said:
“Cursed be the mother who won’t wait up for her son!”
Seven times round the rock-rose bush they ran. The mare was swift, and gained a good lead. She reached the river bank, where a boat was tied up.
As soon as the Moor saw it, he was right glad it was there. He shouts out to the boatman, bidding him row closer. Responding with alacrity, the boatman had the boat ready for him. Quickly the Moor got aboard, he tarried not an instant.
With the Moor now aboard the boat, the Cid reached the river. Seeing the Moor had gotten away safe and sound, the Cid was stricken with chagrin. But with the fury he felt, he hurled a lance at the Moor and cried:
“Pick up the lance, dear son-in-law, pick up that lance for me! Perchance a time will come when I will want it back!”
25. Spanish Ballads, edited by Colin Smith (Oxford and New York: Pergamon Press, 1964), 100–103.
26. The historical Cid’s daughters were Cristina and María. The Epic refers to them as Elvira and Sol. This ballad presents yet another name, Urraca.