Chapter One
Though he had only lived for twenty winters and nineteen summers, Roberto Aceves de Burgos had these last five years fought in battles for his God, the King of Spain, Sancho II, son of Ferdinand I, and his lord, Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, known to Christians and Muslims alike as El Cid Campeador, the Lord, master of military arts.
In the year 1057, as a boy of twelve, Roberto had listened to the stories of the great battle against the Moorish stronghold of Zaragoza, after which the Cid, a warrior at seventeen, defeated the city's emir, al-Muqtadir, after which the Muslim agreed to serve as a vassal of King Sancho. His loyalty thus secured, al-Muqtadir proceeded to follow Diaz into battle against the Aragon.
It was there that Diaz's uncle, Ramiro I of Aragon, was killed, though there was speculation that his death was actually due to a plot between his incestuous brother and sister, Alfonso and Urraca, rather than from battle wounds. It was also here that King Sancho bestowed Diaz the honorific title Campeador after killing an Aragonese knight in single combat.
Roberto's father, Adan Aceves de Burgos, was a courtier, cavalryman and minor bureaucrat who had his son appointed a squire to Gaspar Herrera, a knight of little renown, known for his girth at nearly three hundred pounds, rather than his chivalry or daring exploits in battle. Herrera's only accomplishment was to drown himself while attempting to cross the Burgos River after a night of whoring and drinking before heading off to fight the Moors of North Africa. Full of food and wine, and weighted down by nearly a hundred pounds of chainmail, armor, sword and battle-axe, he toppled out of the saddle in mid river and never came up again.
The drunken knight's bad fortune proved to be Roberto's good fortune, though. To save the humiliation of losing its only knight, the village leaders promptly decided that the boy had received sufficient training to carry Burgos' gonfanon or battle flag, and promptly declared him, at fourteen, a knight in service to the King.
In honor of his appointment, Roberto's father chose from his stable of Andalusians a magnificent young black stallion for his only son. Horse and knight proved to be well matched: strong, full of youthful eagerness, spirited, and utterly fearless. Roberto named his warhorse Donato, Gift from God.
Kingdom of Spain, AD 1063
The remains of a battle between Sancho's knights, Castilian cavalry and Aragonese infantry littered a field of tall grass near Graus, a Moorish village that lay at the foot of the Pyrenees mountain range in the Zaragoza lands separating Spain and France.
Hobbled under a six-hundred-year old oak with thick, spreading limbs, Donato stood watch over his young master, while Roberto sat stoically in a meadow chewing on a piece of dried meat as he gazed over the fields littered with thousands of dead bodies and the debris of war.
Covered in blood and gore, his tunic, along with his knee-length hauberk, a chainmail shirt weighing more than 30 pounds, and broken sword lay beside him as his fourteen-year-old cousin and attendant, Aurelo , dressed Roberto's shoulder wound courtesy of an Aragonese arrow.
At the sound of approaching horses, Roberto stood painfully to his feet as his commander, Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, reined up before him. Another knight rode next to Diaz, one of his twin half brothers, Berenguer Ramon II, who served as his lieutenant-at-arms.
Diaz dismounted his black stallion, Babieca. Aceves and Aurelo knelt at the nobleman's approach.
"My Cid," said Roberto as he pulled his cape across his chest to hide his nakedness and his wound, least he offend his lord.
Diaz paid no heed to the boy's attempt at modesty. "Rise, worthy knight and friend," he said. "Your wound how is it?"
"It is nothing."
"You fought bravely at my side this day."
Roberto nodded his head slightly and then looked up into Diaz's eyes. "It is my honor to serve my Lord."
"A messenger has recently arrived from your home in Burgos," said Diaz. "It is my regret to have to tell you that your father is near death. He bids you come to him."
"But, I cannot leave, sire."
Rodrigo put a hand on Roberto's shoulder to quiet him. "The Moors are on the run," he said gently. "There will be other battles. Meanwhile, you must go home and tend to your family's affairs. I will send for you when your services are required again." He picked up Roberto's broken sword and ran his fingers along the blade to the jagged break. "I will keep this as a memento of your service to me and our king." He turned to his brother. "Berenguer, bring me Tizona."
