Chapter XXIX

In Alcocér the burghers to the Cid their tribute paid And all the dwellers in Terrér and Teca furthermore. And the townsmen of Calatayúd, know well, it irked them sore. Full fifteen weeks he tarried there, but the town yielded not. And when he saw it forthwith the Cid devised a plot. Save one left pitched behind him, he struck his every tent. Then with his ensign lifted, down the Jalón he went, With mail-shirts on and girded swords, as a wise man should him bear. To draw forth to his ambush the men of Alcocér. And when they saw it, name of God! How glad was everyone! "The provender and fodder of my lord the Cid are gone. If he leaves one tent behind him, the burden is not light Of the others that he beareth. He 'scapes like one in flight. Let us now fall upon him, great profit shall we gain. We shall win a mighty booty before he shall be ta'en By them who have their dwelling in the city of Terrér; For if by chance they take him, in the spoil we shall not share. The tribute that he levied, double he shall restore."

Forth from the town of Alcocér in wild haste did they pour. When the Cid saw them well without he made as if he fled; With his whole host in confusion down the Jalón he sped.

"The prize 'scapes," cried the townsmen. Forth rushed both great and small, In the lust of conquest thinking of nothing else at all. They left the gates unguarded, none watched them any more. And then his face upon them turned the great Campeador, He saw how twixt them and their hold there lay a mighty space; He made them turn the standard. They spurred the steeds apace. "Ho! cavaliers! Now swiftly let every man strike in, By the Creator's favor this battle we shall win." And there they gave them battle in the midmost of the mead. Ah God! is the rejoicing on this morning great indeed. The Cid and Alvar Fañez went spurring on ahead; Know ye they had good horses that to their liking sped. 'Twixt the townsmen and the castle swiftly the way they broke. And the Cid's henchmen merciless, came striking stroke on stroke, In little space three hundred of the Moors they there have slain. Loud was the shouting of the Moors in the ambush that were ta'en. But the twain left them; on they rushed. Right for the hold they made And at the gate they halted, each with a naked blade. Then up came the Cid's henchmen for the foe were all in flight. Know ye the Cid has taken Alcocér by such a sleight.