rode
over the bloody field of the Gaudalete, strewed with the ruins of those
splendid armies, which had so lately passed like glorious pageants along
the river banks. There Moor and Christian, horseman and horse, lay gashed
with hideous wounds; and the river, still red with blood, was filled with
the bodies of the slain. The gaunt Arab was as a wolf roaming through the
fold he had laid waste. On every side his eye revelled on the ruin of the
country, on the wrecks of haughty Spain. There lay the flower of her
youthful chivalry, mangled and destroyed, and the strength of her yeomanry
prostrated in the dust. The Gothic noble lay confounded with his vassals;
the peasant with the prince; all ranks and dignities were mingled in one
bloody massacre.

When Taric had surveyed the field, he caused the spoils of the dead and
the plunder of the camp to be brought before him. The booty was immense.
There were massy chains, and rare jewels of gold; pearls and precious
stones; rich silks and brocades, and all other luxurious decorations in
which the Gothic nobles had indulged in the latter times of their
degeneracy. A vast amount of treasure was likewise found, which had been
brought by Roderick for the expenses of the war.

Taric then ordered that the bodies of the Moslem warriors should be
interred; as for those of the Christians, they were gathered in heaps, and
vast pyres of wood were formed, on which they were consumed. The flames of
these pyres rose high in the air, and were seen afar off in the night; and
when the Christians beheld them from the neighboring hills they beat their
breasts and tore their hair, and lamented over them as over the funeral
fires of their country. The carnage of that battle infected the air for
two whole months, and bones were seen lying in heaps upon the field for
more than forty years; nay, when ages had past and gone, the husbandman,
turning up the soil, would still find fragments of Gothic cuirasses and
helms, and Moorish scimitars, the relics of that dreadful fight.

For three days the Arabian horseman pursued the flying Christians, hunting
them over the face of the country; so that but a scanty number of that
mighty host escaped to tell the tale of their disaster.

Taric ben Zeyad considered his victory incomplete so long as the Gothic
monarch survived; he proclaimed great rewards, therefore, to whomsoever
should bring Roderick to him, dead or alive. A diligent search was
accordingly made in