John Masters (14 page)

They came to wear long cloaks, robes of fine wool, and richly worked jewels—but they used neither shoes nor stockings; and while the king's head rested in his mistress's lap, she hunted it for lice. Their laws were usually wiser and more humane than the Roman laws they replaced—but they could not prevent the election of their kings from degenerating into anarchy. They had conquered by the sword—and neglected either to keep it sharp or to replace it with some other form of security (if any such existed in that time). At their core was a cult of personality rather than of organization—and then they failed to produce the personalities. Finally, they were disunited. They already distinguished between themselves and their Roman or Celtiberian fellow citizens; and in 589 King Reccared formally changed the "official" religion from Arian to Roman Christianity, which was, as we have seen, a much less tolerant form. From 617 on king and Church waged an ever more frenzied persecution against the Jews.

The state went downhill, not violently, except at the upper levels, and not rapidly, but steadily. For over a century Gibraltar was a dinghy tied to a ship whose sails were rotting, whose captain spent his time with wine, women, and worse, and whose multiracial crew of many faiths and of none, near starvation, had no incentive, no knowledge, and no share in the vessel's fate.

In the normal course of history such a situation worsens until it becomes intolerable; then there is a revolution, and a new leader takes hold—as Charles Martel was to do in Frankish Gaul, for instance. But the Visigoths were not to be given the chance to reshape their own history. Three thousand miles to the east, in Arabia, an obscure caravan conductor began to preach a new religion—that there was one God, Allah; and he, Mohammed, was the Prophet of Allah. In 622 the Prophet was driven from Mecca to Medina, and from this flight,
the year of the Hegira,
the Muslims soon dated their events, using a lunar calendar. Mohammed died in A.D. 632 (A.H. 11), but by then the new religion was well on the move, and every day the word of Mohammed's successors, the caliphs, Commanders of the Faithful, became law over new lands. Very early in the eighth century the Muslims reached Morocco. In Morocco, across the Strait from Gibraltar, lies Ceuta, the Roman Septa (for its situation on seven hills). The governor of Ceuta at this time was a man called Count Ilian, Julian, or perhaps Olban. Some historians think he was holding Ceuta for the Byzantine Empire, which seems very unlikely; some, that he was a Christian—of Vandal descent, perhaps—who was holding it for his own people; and some, that he was governor on behalf of the Visigothic king Wittica in Spain. His problem, faced with the sudden arrival of the all-conquering Muslims, would not have been much different in any of the three cases, but it is more rewarding to assume the last theory to be the correct one, as upon it has been built a lovely fabric of myth, legend, and history, complete with heroes, villains, high life, sex, and debauchery.

In 709 one Roderick murdered Wittica and usurped the kingship of Spain. Wittica was dead, but many bitter supporters still lived, including two sons; a brother, Oppas, who was the powerful Archbishop of Seville; and a daughter, Faldrina ... who was the wife of Count Ilian. Their daughter, Florinda, was a maid of honor at Roderick's court.

Tales of the richness of the Spanish soil and of the dissensions of its rulers crossed the narrow strait and were eagerly heard by the caliph's ambitious and able governor of Africa, Musa-ibn-Nusayr. In 710 he sent a lieutenant, Tarif, over into Spain on a reconnaissance. Tarif landed at Traducta and marched inland. After an extended excursion he returned to Musa with the news that Spain was ripe—overripe, rotten. About the same time Florinda sent a message to her father, Count Ilian; King Roderick had foully seduced her.

The scene is set for the first known incursion of Gibraltar, as actor rather than spectator, into history. The year is A.D. 711, the ninety-second since the Hegira....

BROTHER AETHELRED'S STORY

Translated From The Latin

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen. Obeying the command of the Holy Abbot, I set down here all that befell me, Brother Aethelred of Glastonbury, on my journey from Isca to Rome in the year of Our Lord 711.

Early in that year the Holy Abbot summoned me, I being then in my twentieth year, and told me that the Bishop of Rome had bidden him send a young man to the city that he might study there for a period of years, and when he had learned all he could, return to Glastonbury. As I was somewhat more intelligent than an ox, the Abbot said, and there was no other young man, he would send me. I set forth at once in a Byzantine vessel, for Gaul was infested with outlaws.

At sea I suffered from a revulsion of my stomach, so that I became weak as a child, though I was strong and tall in those days, with a beard and tonsure of gold and blue eyes. (I write this not to boast, but that all may be made clear.) After many weeks the vessel came to a narrow place, and the master said these were the Pillars of Hercules. Our sail was set, and a strong wind behind blew us speedily on, bearing close to the northern pillar, when we struck a piece of floating wreckage which ripped a mighty hole in the bow. The master put up the tiller and steered for the point of the headland, but the wind pushed the bow round, a great following wave fell upon us and cast us over, and in a moment we were all in the sea. By the chance of spending my childhood swimming in the river when I should perhaps have been watching my father's swine, I was able to swim out from beneath the sail which threatened to smother me, but I was alone. I swam hard and crawled ashore near the point of the headland. Arrived with difficulty at the top of the cliff, I looked seaward and saw that the vessel was gone, borne to the bottom by the sea and the weight of her cargo. None but I had survived. I wandered and climbed about the rock, and it began to rain. As darkness fell I saw a huge cavern and hurried into it for shelter. It was a place wrought by God, full of marvels of shaped stone, but I was tired and soon fell asleep. Next day I saw a goat girl, who pointed out to me the path off that Rock and showed me where was the nearest castle and village, which she called Torrox. I walked near three hours to Torrox, passing first, on the bay, the ruins of a city such as we have in Wessex and the Holy Abbot says are the work of the pagan Romans. As I reached the gate of Torrox, a red-faced young nobleman in a white tunic with a gold and green mantle rode out, followed by servants. The nobleman reined in, frowning, and spoke sharply to me in his tongue. I told him in Latin who I was and what had befallen me. He answered in Latin, poor but easily to be understood, "God be praised, for my clerk has just been drowned. I am Count Anseric, with my brother lord of all this country. Until all my letters are written and answered, you shall be my clerk.... You are a well-formed man, Aethelred ... and if I cannot persuade you to stay, then I shall arrange your onward passage to Rome." He smiled at me, spoke to a servant, and rode on.

The servant led me into the castle. Torrox was greater than anything I had seen in Britain, though small compared to the mighty works I later saw in Rome. It was of two stories, all of stone, of which there is an abundance of all kinds in that land, made in the form of a hollow square, with only one gate. The roof was not of straw, as in Britain, but of tiles. Many servants, men-at-arms, and women resided there, perhaps to the number of two hundred souls. The village lay down river and contained about fifty houses. The servant showed me to a small cell on the second floor, facing southwest and furnished with a bench, table, and pallet. Through the arrow slit I could see that great gray Pillar of Hercules which, though three leagues distant, seemed to frown down directly upon all that country. The servant gave me to eat and brought fine robes, which may have belonged to the drowned clerk, then led me to the great hall and introduced me to the nobleman, dispensing justice there. I started, for this Count Theodomir was the twin of Count Anseric—they were indeed twins, twenty-five years old, and at first glance I thought it was Anseric returned; but this Theodomir was grave and calm, his skin pure and his gaze straight, whereas Anseric's skin was red and mottled, his eyes bloodshot and always moving, his lips loose.

Count Theodomir's Latin was better than mine, and he welcomed me warmly. "I hear there is much correspondence to be dealt with," I said.

"Yes," he said, adding somberly, "Though it is the Holy Spirit we need from you, Brother Aethelred, more than we need your learned pen.... Come to me at any time, ask what you will. You will be heard."

"Or come to me," a woman's voice said behind me. "You will be even better received. Unless you are of brother Anseric's faith." Count Theodomir's face went cold and tight, and he said, "My wife, the Lady Hildoara. This is Brother Aethelred, from Wessex."

"A monk," she said, eyeing me as though I were an animal at market, "but more of a man between the legs than you, I'll be bound."

He snapped at her in their tongue and turned away. She shouted rudely after him. I suspected that all was not well between them.

A month passed. I prepared and answered correspondence for Count Anseric, who was usually drunk but showed himself most generous toward me, for though I was but a penniless monk, he lavished small gifts upon me, embraced and kissed me, and stroked my beard in wonder at its fairness. Of Count Theodomir I saw little, for he was always out upon the king's business in that province. His wife, the Lady Hildoara, spent many hours each day closeted with servants, captains, knights, and passing travelers upon her Lord's business and once even sent for me. When I entered, she was lying naked on her couch, so I knew she had forgotten her summons and slipped out quietly to save her shame. For the rest, I passed two hours each day with the priest of the church, learning the Visigothic tongue. Of the language I learned something, of the state of the kingdom and country much more.

All Hispania was rent by fear and hatred. Many believed that King Roderic had murdered the previous king, Wittica, and some now planned to slay him in his turn. The mountains were full of outlaws, the roads of brigands. In Africa a new and terrible army of men called Moors, who denied Christ, had come from the east, wading in blood, and possessed themselves even of the Pillar of Hercules upon that side; and no man knew what they intended to do but each looked fearfully over his shoulder, for the strait between the two pillars is very narrow.

As if these perils were not enough, in every court and palace of the Visigoths flourished all manner of abomination. No vice was too obscure or too bestial, the priest told me, but that it was practiced by one and by many, not in secret and alone but together and in public. I asked the priest to describe these abominations to me, but he said I should ask Count Anseric and the Lady Hildoara; and yet, he said, our people—for he too was a Visigoth—have made good laws and can live close to God's will, if they wish.

At the castle the state of the kingdom was laid before me in little, as though in a picture—for Count Theodomir lived like a saint, and his brother Count Anseric, my master, like a swine.

On a day in the middle of April Count Theodomir left on a long journey to carry reports of the province to King Roderic, who was in the farthest north. That night the castle was filled with carousing and revelry. The next day Count Anseric sent for me, and I thought perhaps I should speak to him of my wish to continue my journey to Rome, for Torrox had begun to oppress me, more heavily now that Count Theodomir would be absent for many weeks.

But when I came to Count Anseric's chamber, he said, "We make a sea voyage tonight. Bring parchment and pen. Tell no one."

The count himself came to my cell soon after dark, and we rode with two grooms to that ruined town on the bay below the Pillar of Hercules which men called the Rock. There a vessel waited, we went aboard, the sailors cast off, and the rowers settled to their oars. The moon was high, and the face of the Rock shone very white on the left hand. Then Count Anseric said, "We go to Septa. We will talk to Count man, the governor, and others about helping our king make order here in Hispania. What we agree, you write in Latin, we sign. You understand?"

My task was plain enough and very usual, for only we of the Church can write, and until swords are drawn, our help is necessary for every act of policy. Many had spoken of this Count Ilian in Torrox. It was said that King Roderic had violated his daughter Florinda while the maid was at court; but the count had forgiven the king his sin and only taken his wife and daughter away from the court that no more temptation might befall. So forgiving and Christian a nobleman I much looked forward to meeting.

God afflicted me with vomiting the rest of the journey across the strait to Septa, which we reached in the last hour before dawn. A man in a white cloak, which concealed his face, awaited us on the shore, and led us quickly through the city to a great villa set behind a high wall. A strange music, as of plucked lutes, filled the air even at that hour, and I heard water tinkling. I was shown to a large room full of cushions, where I soon fell asleep.

The man who aroused me wore a gray robe and a black cloth wound many times around his head. He was dark of skin, but his hair was the color of dull copper, and his eyes were blue. He was near thirty years of age. He spoke to me in excellent Latin, calling me by my name, which much surprised me. He said, "I am David ha-Cohen, secretary to the general Abd-al-Malik. We meet in the center chamber at noon."

He bowed and made to leave me, but I cried out, for a shrunken man, hairy and misshapen of face, ran in upon four legs from the garden, screeching and gibbering, David ha-Cohen laughed and said, "That is an ape. The owner of this palace keeps a dozen here, well fed." He waved his hand, and the beast ran out, chattering.

Then he left me, and young boys waited upon me with spiced food, and sweetmeats in silver dishes, and wine, and iced sherbet. When all was done, one boy stayed, an affectionate lad who curled up against me as a son or brother might and showed me a wound upon his thigh, but I saw no wound and gently bade him go and play at balls outside as 1 must prepare myself for the conference.