The chill of the evening settled on Sancho's shoulders and he thought how unwise it had been to have left the estate of the Duke and Duchess with only the clothes on his back (or the metal sheathing as it was for the Don.)
His master had declared this very morn before others had arisen; "A knight-errant is not one who accepts hospitality without end. He must be on his way to right the wrongs that mankind cast upon this world." Sancho wiped his eyes of the trail dust much as he had rubbed his eyes in disbelief; there at the foot of his feather bed had stood Don Quixote in full armor, mace in one hand, sword in the other. He had kicked Sancho's left foot that extended beyond the coverlet. Sancho had no choice but to arise, otherwise, the house would be in turmoil. It was likely that the Don would have to be restrained and all sorts of misery would befall them before quiet was returned.
At that moment, to be off seemed to be most provident and grudgingly he had saddled Rozinante while Quixote paced back and forth, nervous to be off. The task done, he assisted the knight in mounting and watched in disbelief as the knight charged from the stable, leaving him to catch Amadis, bring their meager possessions together into a satchel, mount and try to find which way the Don might have chosen to go. Only after reaching the road from town was he able to find evidence of the horse and rider having passed, a fresh dump of meadow muffins revealed the direction of Rozinante's route. When he joined Don Quixote, the Don deep in thought seemed to be unaware of his presence and they had continued in this fashion throughout the day with not a break for lunch or rest under protective trees. The only stop had been at a small stream where the mounts took on a charge of water, but Quixote chose not to dismount and instructed Sancho to remain seated as well. This was going to be an adventure unlike any others it appeared.
Rozinante and Amadis plodded along now having lost any enthusiasm for the venture and no amount of prodding was to increase the pace they had established. Sancho was hungry, thirsty, tired, his butt ached and now he was feeling the cold. Quixote on the other hand, rode tall in the saddle. It was obvious that he was enjoying his newly found freedom from the merriment of his past host and was once again Don Quixote, knight errant.
This trail like many in this depressing part of Spain was not heavily traveled. Effects of the Inquisition were to be seen as small hamlets were now uninhabited and an occasional house with walls of stone showed no signs of human presence for many years. If that was not enough, the likelihood of encountering a bandit group who would not be impressed by the man in Iron increased the further they ventured into the countryside.
Even one of Don Quixote's castles would be a happy sight to the weary squire. If one were sighted perhaps, he would be able to persuade his master to stay and seek adventures there. Anywhere but on this dusty trail.
Almost as if someone were listening to his musings, a vision of a rambling posada came into view. Hopefully it would be different from most in this region and the innkeeper would provide more than just salt, and a fire to prepare the meal that you must provide. A wisp of smoke was clear and the smell of an oak fire brought cheer to Sancho. The smell of smoke reached Amadis and Rozinante as well and in anticipation, they stepped more lively.
The change in pace, stirred Don Quixote from his thoughts and most unexpected, he proclaimed, "Sancho, that hamlet there; we will spend the night if invited. The mounts need a rest. And perhaps you can adjust the fit of my breastplate which seems to have created an annoying irritation across my back. Go forward and announce that a knight-errant is approaching and that they should prepare to great him. At this late hour, it being unlikely that others are stirring, make it sure that they can provide a suitable reception in the morn."
With his heals, Sancho kicked Amadis into a trot, but sensing the inn and seeking relief as well, Rozinante, not to be outdone, broke into a gallop which came near to unseating his rider who was caught unawares by the sudden charge. Down the hill they rushed (One can imagine if the inn had been up hill instead of down, the flight would have been short lived) and the stallion entered into the courtyard, through the kitchen area and into the stables behind without thought of his rider's peril. The entry way being adequate in height for passage of a horse and gear was designed to prevent just such a rush by an unwanted guest. The lintel struck Don Quixote full in the chest and unseated him with a clatter of falling weapons, breastworks, and the Don himself.
Startled guests who were assembled about the evening fire had time only to jump aside to avoid the charging horse who once in the stable area found the water trough and drank his fill with no concern for his famous rider (or rider of the past.) The dust cloud that was the source of the interruption moved not at all having been struck unconscious by either his collision with the stone works of the doorway or that of the cobbles of the floor. As the inn's host and guest gathered about to study this delivery from the darkness, Sancho astride Amadis lumbered into view. With the past event fresh on their minds, they sought shelter from they knew not what.
Poor Sancho seeing his master still in a heap upon the stones, dismounted as quickly as it was possible for him to do so and with a wail of despair, called out to Don Quixote to get up or at least to show some signs of life. His cries went unanswered. Seeing his distress the matroness of the inn approached with a bucket of water in hand and from a distance threw it on the outstretched knight. Having never seen a knight before and perhaps only been told of them by stories related word of mouth she kept her distance from this strange assemble of twisted metal. The water did its deed, settling the dust, and bringing some life to the encrusted one.
As the water soaked into the cloth and leather bindings of the armor, it spread unevenly about. The paperboard padding began to swell and the leathers to shrink as they took on water. Don Quixote was unwell from his rapid dismount and suddenly felt that he was being squeezed by some unseen monster. His weaponry was not at hand and he could not raise himself from the ground. As he attempted to turn to one side, another mighty cascade of water came forth and yet another. The flood of water now soaked not only the Don but his squire as well. For good measure, the guest at the inn had gathered up whatever that they may to arm themselves and were prepared to beat the two into submission if threatened. (Fact being that they were more affright of this strange apparition than was Don Quixote thinking himself grasped by evils unknown.). And, as if speaking in a language foreign to those assembled, the knight called forth assistance from Amadis of Gaul, Gill Bas of Lesage and their brothers to fight these demons.
Of all those there, only Sancho had the wits about him to calm the crowd. "Oh master." Silence. "Are you hurt, but of course you are? I can help. How shall I help? Jesus, please show me a sign that my Master is well." Tears streamed down Sancho's face. Granted these laments had no effect on Don Quixote, but to the inn's inhabitants they showed that here was a babbling dust-covered mountain of a man who had arrived on a donkey following this strange metal clad fool who had attempted to ride through the doorway. This peasant was of their kind by the soundings of his voice in pleas to his master, for this they showed some hospitality and put aside their weapons of brooms, sticks and stones.
Taking the stunned warrior by the foot and arms, they dragged him to the fireside and there began to disentangle him from his twisted shell. In his weakened and disordered state, it was difficult to determine if Don Quixote was trying to resist their advances or to reposition his damaged body to make removal of his armor possible. Nevertheless, in only a manner of minutes he was reduced to his not quite white gown that gratefully, when unrolled covered for the most part his thighs. From somewhere near, a blanket was provided and he was rolled on it and then in it so that his arms were bound firmly to his sides. Struggling gave no relief and in his damaged state he finally lay still. If bones were broken, examination would have to wait for morning as none of those there were able to render assistance. One of the inn's guest was well read and from his satchel withdrew a manuscript on the anatomy of melancholy as described by Democritus Junior. Reading quickly, he saw no relief for the fallen warrior and bade them await a physician in the morn who could prescribe the proper herbs for melancholy or if necessary take the proper amount of black blood by letting and surely cure the fallen one.
Sancho, seeing his master in good hands, followed Amadis' lead and found the stable where he removed their trappings and entertained them with a good feed of corn. Then he returned to the fireside. Two logs some twenty feet in length were at right angles to each and were fed to the hearth in such a manner that one rested upon the other. With the passage of time, they grew short and gave up their substance to the night air. An ample table lay between the two outstretched arms of the logs and benches were provided for the guest and their host. An iron caldron suspended from a hook above the fire held the evenings' meal. Noting the presence of two additional guests the host added turnips and a pair of mutton trotters to the pot with a pinch of salt for good measure.
The innkeeper asked if they required blankets for the night and if so he would be glad to supply them at only a small extra charge. Sancho felt his purse snug within his belt band and wondered if in the morn he and Don Quixote would again have to steal away in the darkness before sunrise to avoid the greed of the proprietor. But for now, the meal was of most importance and he noted that the pitcher of red wine seemed to be bottomless and the stew with a bit of brown bread, most agreeable. For the Don's part, rest seemed to be the best cure for his bruised body and he was allowed peace a short distance from the fire where he would be as comfortable as possible.
On the bench sat the host and his woman next to a pair to travelers who seemed to be strangers to the region. Being warmed by the fire, there began a series of stories meant to make the evening pleasant, at least as long as the fire and wine provided warmth to the body and spirit. On the other side of the board sat Sancho who in silence fed his maw. Next to him sat a threesome of what appeared to be gentlemen but not of the highest rank and order, two appeared to be Arabs and the other was of unknown heritage. One called himself Ali Solan, another, Ber Engenas and the last, Man Trow; as understood by Sancho who was unaccustomed to the accents with which they spoke. They like Sancho were silent at the first and all listened to the talk between the other travelers who had crossed the mountains from the west.
"As we entered the mountain range, the road leaving the fertile plain away from Toledo became less and less traveled. What had been in places built up with smooth stone and raised to make passage in all weather possible soon became no less than a track marked by the path of oxen and wheeled carts. If one encountered travelers from the opposite direction, it was necessary to give ground by taking refuge in a nearby clearing to make passage possible. You can imagine the difficulty in some places where the necessity of backing a ladened cart could make for a challenge from one to the other to get off the path. It is rumored that in more than one spot, bandits use this ploy to so confuse a traveler that by the time the path had been cleared for passage, they knew the substance of that which was on the cart and if it seemed of worth, to dispatch the owner and assume possession of that property which now had no owner.
For this reason if for no other, it is unwise to travel alone and the company of a mule driver is most preferred. However, as we must go on this journey to visit a distant kin and determine if an inheritance awaits us, we made this most difficult decision to go, and although we armed ourselves well, we with timidity pursued our goal."
Sancho noted that the three poets, for that is what he now assumed them to be reacted to the story in different manners, but held their silence. They did visit the kettle to refresh their bowls and the bread that Sancho had eyed for breakfast, was quickly disappearing. No passage of the pitcher was allowed without a brief stop to fill their goblets.
The other one of the pair, who was much the older, now resumed the story. " As we approached the mountains, we had a choice but not a good one. If we continued on the road which skirted the mountain peaks, our journey would be at least five days in length, however if we took the less well traveled path up into the mountains, we would be at our destination in perhaps three days. On departing it was advised that we take the shorter route as bandits less frequented that path since there was less likelihood for plunder as fewer pilgrims chose to make the hard climb through the hills and passes. However we were encouraged to take adequate provisions as it was unlikely that we would find an inn to accommodate us.
On the second day it was growing dark as the mountains cast their shadow, much as it did today, and we had traveled some 50 or 60 furlongs. Our horses were tired and I must admit that unaccustomed as I am to being astride any animal other than a fair one, I needed rest. Fortunate for us, we had entered a long valley and were pleased to see that there among the trees was a not small village of perhaps twenty or so houses and a large manor house overlooked them from a minor rise. Thinking what good fortune had come our way, we spurred our horses onward.
Upon entering the village, we found it to be deserted. Not a sole was in sight or sound. We pressed onward to the big house and found it to be in the same state of disrepair as the hamlet which obviously had been at one point in time, a part of a well organized and wealthy estate."
My brother and I entered into the grounds of the house and "hallo-ed" for attention. We sat astride our horses trying to decide if we should stay or go otherwise for it occurred to us that perhaps some disease had swept through and all who lived there were lost. But before we reached a decision, a voice came from the upper floor of the main house. We saw the glint of a musket from a window and I must say, it was the thought that we had seen our last sunset crossed my mind. Were they bandits who has massacred all those here, was it a bandit hideout that we had ventured into, perhaps soldiers of the brotherhood in pursuit of outlaws were here and were thinking us to be bandits returning? All these thoughts rushed through my mind as well as that of my brother.
The voice said, "Dismount sirs, you are welcome to stay if you wish. But be advised that I can not provide food, only shelter and perhaps a warm fire."
Under the circumstances, that seemed to be the best offer that we could expect and as we carried a heavy larder of supplies, it was no great disappointment that we should have to serve ourselves."
At this comment, the innkeeper cast a wink to his wife and Sancho was sure that before the pair left in the morn, they would find their saddlebags lighter by a substantial amount. The story continued.
"We did as we were bid and entered the house. Our host having descended the stairs, waved his arm to indicate we should stable our horses to the back of the house and my brother took them hence. Glad was I to stretch my legs and I gave my newly found provider of refuge a careful examination. He appeared to be somewhat short of forty, pleasant enough of continence and showed evidence of having not missed too many meals. His dress however, was not that of one who would be owner of such a large estate.
He said that we could warm by the fire and sleep there as well if we wished. An arrangement most agreeable to us, as there was a heap of quilts, knee high at least in the corner. I did think if it would be wise to share the fleas of my own with his and perhaps trade some in the process, but considering the lateness of the hour and our weariness, I agreed for myself and brother.
Bringing inside the saddlebag which contained sidemeat, smoked rabbit and bread and cheese of the best quality, brother placed them on the awaiting table. Seeing the veritable feast, our host brought forth a pitcher of wine equal in quality to that served us at this meal."
Again the host and hostess exchanged glances and Sancho was sure that not only the saddlebags but the purse of the pair would be lightened as well. If these two enjoyed such pleasures in life, surely they could afford to pay extra for the privileges of sharing the host's table.
"As we sat affront the fire and filled our stomach, we exchanged pleasantries. My brother who likes to talk spent the most of an hour explaining how we came to be where we were and where we were going. With the wine, his tongue loosened and he told how if we were the heirs of the Aragon estate, we would certainly be traveling this road no more. Never the mind, our host while paying careful attention to the story of our current journey, seemed to be somewhat withdrawn, but as I asked him a question regarding the estate in which he seemed to be in possession, he came back to this world and from him flowed such an amazing story that I would like to share it with you.
It seems that in the year 1590, this had been a most prosperous village and its inhabitants were renowned for their silver-smithing. The house in which we were at present, was the property of a gentleman who lived in Salamanca but who kept this property for his hunting pleasures. As the villager's reputation became more widespread, they discontinued the pastoral life and turned their attention to the trade. Times were good. Although the village which will remain unnamed because of what happened there, was in a most productive valley capable of the finest crops and quality sheep, goats and cattle, it was decided to let it revert to the more basic state where God and nature were in balance. All were in agreement and as they were prospering as only craftsmen can, food and wine and fine possessions flowed into the village from over the mountain from whence you just descended, in a counter current was passage of finely crafted gold and silver items destined for the cities and in more that a few cases, royal families.
The village being in an isolated environment was passed by by the Inquisition and no harm came to any who lived here. But it is at this junction that I must explain the fate that befell the people. It was in the year 1591, in the winter, demand for gold and silver by those in rich and noble positions stopped dead. Suddenly, the rich had to sell their jewels to live and even with that, many lost their property and not a few lost their heads as well.
With no demand for their fine workmanship, the villagers quickly exhausted their cache of gold and silver and found that they could not pay for the foods of necessity transported across the mountains. As I said before, it was winter. Our good villagers had no flour, no wheat, no pork or mutton, and the few deer and wild animals that roamed the area were soon depleted.
As you have just experienced, passage over the mountains is difficult in the best of weather, imagine the difficulty in the dead of winter. The villagers sent a letter to the owner of this fine house begging for help. It was never answered.
Starvation is not a pretty picture. Families turned on one another, groveling for who knows what. Acorns were gathered and made into flour. Bark was peeled from the trees and made into a soup of sorts. Roots grubbed from the soil by hands that had never know this kind of labor were added to the stew, if lucky enriched by an occasional rabbit or other meat.
Two days without food and infants begin to emit shrill cries. After a week there is silence. The old, become enfeebled and in two weeks they are gone. Three weeks and wives impregnated the past spring, began the rejection of the unborn. At four weeks the weaker of those of our age depart, then, in rapid order the others decline until there are hardly those with strength for burial. And, as the ground was now frozen the bodies were stored in a nearby cave awaiting the spring thaw.
So passed the four months of winter until at the end, only I survived. I live here haunted by the past and unsure of the future."
Wiping his mouth on his sleeve and finishing his goblet of wine, the householder said, "Sleep well my sons". And he departed, leaving us at the table before the waning fire.
As quickly as we could, we gathered our bags, leaving the food on the table, saddled and mounted our horses and fled that horrible place, never to return, God's be willing. We slept in the cover of trees, cold but safe some eight or more furlongs away."
The table was at once silent. No one spoke but all knew the answer to the enigma just posed and looked at each about him wondering who might be the sole survivor if placed in such circumstance.
Finally the matroness took her goblet in hand and proposed a toast. "May you all have a better life here on earth and in the times to come. Let no man defame you and may you survive those who torment you."
With that the innkeeper and his wife retired, and the two brothers went to the room that had been provided. The horse-rider, who remained bound by the fireside, had lapsed into a fitful slumber so Sancho drew near a horse blanket from the stable and warmed by the meal, the wine and the fire was soon asleep. The three historians, for that is what they choose to call themselves, after being assured that the pitcher was full, began to test each other to see wherein lay their knowledge. Soon, as is the case of most learned discussions, it became a raucous argument, with one then the other taking command to be assured that his points were well understood. This awakened the cocooned one who being unable to move and unaware of where he was or how he came to be there, called out.
"I like the sparrow or the hawk am in danger of spoiling my nest. To those about, I beg their assistance as I am unable to do that which is required by the laws of gravity and the chemistry of the body. Release me from the grasp of this garment that has no sleeves."
"What is it that the madman wants. Is he to rant and rage and disturb the very household that offers him warmth and protection?" Said Ber Engenas who appeared to be the most authoritive of the threesome.
Can he be trusted if we release him from his bounds? I is unlikely that his round friend cares a golden fig for his discomfort, see how soundly he sleeps." So added the one titled Ali.
Man Throw stood, adjusting his robe and facing East or was it West exclaimed, "Damned were we all when this heap of bones charged into our lives. Allah be praised if we survive this night."
Seeing the miserable state the Iron man found himself in, they assisted him in unrolling the blanket, then in aiding him in walking to the stable. Having accomplished his mission, he was returned to the fireside where he now sat, propped against the warm stone, and finding a bit of bread chewed carefully upon it.
The trio resumed their interrupted argument seeking out answers to the puzzle of which they were bit players. Each in his turn revisited not the whole story but instead the gaps left where information was lacking.
"Wait, you don't understand. Each of you has a slice of the loaf but cannot begin to see how it was baked. I know, I was there."
Who was this madman? He comes charging into the inn unannounced, is stuck dead by the blow of the entry-way, revived by the mistress, rants of demons and the black art of Merlin, is bound to protect him and all about him, lapses into a deep sleep and now intrudes, insisting that he and he alone can resolve the controversy that now is before us. Saavendra himself could not have described a more retched soul.
But he was not to be silenced and thus began his story of " Don Quixote's history
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