At the first light of dawn, Dame Shirlee awakened and having finished her toilet, roused first her master then going to the near hut, awakened Sancho. The excitement of the new day caused Sancho to wake quickly and with few words necessary he prepared to begin the trip home which was some ten leagues or more from where they were at present. Sancho taking the generous bucket of scraps that were the remainder from the past nights banquet plus the fermented mash of the previous day, approached his charges who before the day was ended would be much footsore.
They cared not that it was Sancho that approached rather than their mistress, the hunt was for the treat contained within the bucket. Squeals not unlike those of the previous morn greeted Sancho and he with the pride of ownership addressed his herd with greetings. As had Dame Shirlee before, he dumped the contents into the trough and the unsatiable appetites of the swine were addressed. After every scrap, and there were many, had been disposed of, Sancho opened the gate and bade his troop to go hither, seek out the stream for water and look to the trees for fruit.
Looking back to the hut Sancho saw that the good Don and his lady had already saddled Rozinante and haltered Amadis. Amadis's back was piled high with the worldly goods of Dame Shirlee and Rozinante carried a fair burden as well. All were ready in every form to depart as soon as breakfast was past. The swine herd had found a place of comfort in the stream and Sancho felt that they would be safe from wandering for the next bit of time so he returned to the cabin for his feed as well. Dame Shirlee had prepared a breakfast fit for a king, knowing that their road would be long and hard. And it should be remembered that Rozinante and Amadis could carry only so much which required leaving behind many fletches of bacon and cured hams. The table was piled high with food that should be eaten and Sancho sat down to do his best.
Don and Donna having finished their meal, said only a few words to Sancho, giving direction on how they were to meet at mid-day. Regarding the village. Having said their thanks, goodbys and other entreatments the past eve, they saw no need to disturb the sleeping village and Shirlee mounted Rozinante, and Quixada, gathering Amadis's halter made ready for departure. How different was this departure from times past thought Sancho. This is not an escape, an avoidance of due payment or a silent creeping into the darkness to avoid unpleasant experiences. Yes, if any villager had been awake, they would have roused the others to cheer the departure not to assail the departing ones. But no one was present and so the good Don and his maid took the road away from the village in the direction of the village in La Mancha which was home to Sancho as well. With a wave of their hands, they were off and were signaling Sancho to assemble his brood and follow in their footsteps. Rozinante and Amadis began the long trek home.
The responsibility now was shifted to Sancho. If he failed, he would lose honor in the sight of the villagers, and in addition might lose his new found wealth in the bargain. He, taking a long stick in hand to serve as his staff approached his herd of swine. As it was customary for the squire of a knight-errant to permit his master to take charge, Sancho was emboldened by his new responsibilities. What mysteries awaited him is recorded as follows.
Having had a pleasant and tasteful morning feed, and a wallow in the stream, the sows and their friend the boar were not at all disturbed by Sancho's command that they follow the lead of the foursome on the trail. With little encouragement they took to the road and were soon covering ground almost as fast as a man would walk. There is little pleasure in following behind a herd of animals, the air is unclean, the dust burdensome to the nose and the view is less than Stirling. With this in mind, Sancho took the lead in front of his old sow, Maria. Speaking to her, he advised that they were to have a new home in Mancha and that with God's blessings all would enjoy a bountiful life. As the sow responded not to his conversation, it is recorded that Sancho took to verse and song, many of which are recorded in the various books of Cide Hamete and others. His pleasant voice, lack of demands on their travels and the ease of walking a path well worn by others was enough encouragement to cause not one but all of his sounder of swine to follow not unlike a pied piper and his troupe. He sang the song of the goat herd youth with modification to fit the mood and audience;
"I know, Maria, thou dost me adore!
Though yet to me the same thou hast not said:
Nor shown it once by one poor glance or moree,
Since love is soonest by such tongues betray'd.
Yet because I ever held thee to be wise,
It to me assures thou bearest good will;
And he is not unfortunate that sees,
How his affections are not taken ill.
Yet for all this, Maria tis true
I, by observerance, gather to my woe;
Thy mind is framed of food, by art undue,
and flint thy bosom is, though it seems of snow.
And yet, admist thy rigour's I do face,
And other shifts, thou usest to delay me,
Sometimes hope, peeping out, doth promise grace;
But woe is me! I fear my heart does betray me.
Sweetest! Once in the balance of thy mind,
Poise with just weights my faith, which nevr yet
Diminished, though disfavour it did find;
Nor can increase more, though thou favored it.
I live be courteous (as some men say),
By thy humanity, I must collect
My hopes, hows'ever thou dost use delay,
Shall reap, at last, the good I do expect.
Give me good produce from our endeavor
For it is with God that we seek succor,
In plenty may you provide a bounty
Not unlike the gold of the Saint ....
(It is lost, to what Saint Sancho referred to.)
And with this, for that is all that he could remember of the song, he repeated the last verse several times for emphasis as this was his contribution to the lyric.
Sancho hoped that his good master and dame would find a suitable stop for rest and for the evening feed as well. Perhaps a place to rest and bath his feet in a cool stream would be just the thing for feet unaccustomed to such a long trek. Oh how he missed the comfort of Amadis's back. He was sure that he and the herd had covered the better part of two leagues when he saw approaching a most disconcerting sight.
Ahead, was a drove of hogs numbering perhaps forty or fifty that were being encouraged on their way by two men and two boys. The hogs were unruly and in ill humor as they were being driven hard. The drovers had little regard for their comfort, intent on making some distant place before nightfall. Because of the dust of the road, they were unaware that ahead lay Sancho and his charge of ten sows and a boar but even if they had so noted, it is unlikely that they would or could have arrested the movement of their swine. Onward they came and Sancho could do little to move his hogs from their path or to stop the charge. Doing only what he could, he stood in the middle of the road, staff in hand and tried to turn back the leading hogs. They would not be discouraged.
In less time than needed to tell this part of the tale, the lean, tired and hungry hoard swept around Sancho, knocking him down in the middle of the road. It seemed that each hog had intent on placing its feet on some exposed limb or body of Sancho. And then, worst of all horrors, they slowed and mingled with his herd. Suddenly the drivers were upon him and one said, "Stupid fool do you not know that you will lose your swine to ours. There is no way to separate them and if you want to be paid for their value, you must go with us to the market and see what they will pay for your dirty scrawny pigs." The other driver said, "What do you mean settle accounts with this beggar. He has no pigs, they are all ours." And to Sancho he said, "Do not lie in the path, you delay our journey." And with a kick to Sancho's backside and ribs, the drovers continued and tried to reassemble the pigs that had begun to spread out into the adjoining field. With great difficulty they moved down the road, but there was great confusion as some of the swine seemed to know not which direction in which they were to go. Sancho lay alone in the dusty trail and watched his fortune pass beyond his eyes.
What to do? Sancho remembered one of Shirlee's admonitions. Rising on one knee and finally standing with the aid of his staff which had been broken in the melee, first without much enthusiasm and then building on desperation, he began to call; "Soooooo-eeeee, Soooooo-eeeeeee!" To his surprise, from the dust cloud emerged Maria and following her were a number of sows. Seeing the hogs escaping from their herd, the other drovers tried but in vain to turn them back and finally in disgust, continued down the road with their pack of animals. God, Be Praised! Sancho took the bag of corn that had fallen from his shoulder and spread some along the side of the road. His charges came running and so happy was he that his eyes filled with tears. The number seemed right and after they had finished their treat, he taking his stick in hand, moved up the road away from the dust cloud and hopefully toward where the Don and his mistress were to have camped. His swine followed as before, and he sang:
"May the Lord God preserve us from evil birds three;
>From all curate and drovers and swine that be;
For the swine eat up all the corn that we sow,
The drovers drink down all the wine that we grow,
Whilst the curates have all the fair dames at their nod;
>From these three evil curses preserve us, Lord God."*
It was near midday and Sancho wondered what to do. Proceed, find a grove of trees to feed his followers or stop where they were, which was dry, dusty and little protected from the wind. With his back to the village of the cave dwellers he looked to the horizon in search of his master. While neither his master, Amadis, Rozinante or Shirlee were in sight, it did appear that the road descended and perhaps this was a message that somewhere in the not too distant future would be found a stream. He continued onward and as the wind shifted, the swine smelled water and picking themselves up into a trot, swept past Sancho and rushed ahead. They were not deceived.
At the bottom of the decline, a stream trickled through a glade and the hogs made a rush first to the water to sate their thirst, to cool their bodies and then to seek food from the off-fall of the trees. Finally, or at least it seemed to Sancho after much time had passed, he reached the stream and there he saw the foursome that had preceded him. Shirlee was amongst the swine and speaking to them.
When Sancho arrived, the first question asked was from whence the new hogs had come. It seems that when Sancho had retrieved his number, they were persuasive in argument and had enticed some four of the drover's pigs to accompany them. There were now fourteen in number and the increase was one sow and three barrows. Don Quixada congratulated Sancho in his good management and having added to his herd in such short order. How could Sancho refuse such praise? Following lunch under the trees, those with horse and ass lead the way from the pleasant setting toward the nights lodging, and Sancho and his charges followed, best as possible.
Near dusk, a village with an acceptable but by no means fine posada (inn) was found not too distant from a good grove of trees. While Alonso went ahead to arrange for lodging for himself and the Dame Shirlee, she remained behind setting up an area in which Sancho and his followers could be comfortable. A fire was prepared and she placed on skewers, meat from the past feast, trusting that the flame would provide a cleansing bath and render the joint of mutton free from the evils that sometimes resulted when one ate foods that were past their prime. By the time all was in readiness, Sancho and his herd appeared and the pigs were greeted with a charge of grain from the larder on Amadis's back. With all in readiness, she departed to the inn after passing to Sancho that he should arise early, feed the swine well from the sack of barley that she was leaving behind and then embark on the day's journey. He was assured that she and the Don would have a breakfast prepared for him on the other side of town, not too far distant. Each day Don Quixada and his intended would lead the way, to be followed by Sancho and his sounder of swine.
On to Epilog - 2.
Or, Back to Epilog - The Beginning
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*From George Barrow's book, The Bible in Spain, first published in 1842. Words are changed to fit the circumstance.
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