CHAPTER III. THE PAUSE BETWEEN DEFEAT AND SURRENDER.
The unfortunate Boabdil plunged once more amidst the recesses of theAlhambra. Whatever his anguish or his despondency, none were permittedto share, or even to witness, his emotions. But he especially resistedthe admission to his solitude, demanded by his mother, implored by hisfaithful Amine, and sorrowfully urged by Muza: those most loved, or mostrespected, were, above all, the persons from whom he most shrank.
Almamen was heard of no more. It was believed that he had perished inthe battle. But he was one of those who, precisely as they are effectivewhen present, are forgotten in absence. And, in the meanwhile, as theVega was utterly desolated, and all supplies were cut off, famine, dailymade more terrifically severe, diverted the attention of each humblerMoor from the fall of the city to his individual sufferings.
New persecutions fell upon the miserable Jews. Not having taken anyshare in the conflict (as was to be expected from men who had no stakein the country which they dwelt in, and whose brethren had been taughtso severe a lesson upon the folly of interference), no sentiment offellowship in danger mitigated the hatred and loathing with which theywere held; and as, in their lust of gain, many of them continued, amidstthe agony and starvation of the citizens, to sell food at enormousprices, the excitement of the multitude against them--released by thestate of the city from all restraint and law--made itself felt by themost barbarous excesses. Many of the houses of the Israelites wereattacked by the mob, plundered, razed to the ground, and the ownertortured to death, to extort confession of imaginary wealth. Not tosell what was demanded was a crime; to sell it was a crime also. Thesemiserable outcasts fled to whatever secret places the vaults of theirhouses or the caverns in the hills within the city could yet affordthem, cursing their fate, and almost longing even for the yoke of theChristian bigots.
Thus passed several days; the defence of the city abandoned to its nakedwalls and mighty gates. The glaring sun looked down upon closed shopsand depopulated streets, save when some ghostly and skeleton band ofthe famished poor collected, in a sudden paroxysm of revenge or despair,around the stormed and fired mansion of a detested Israelite.
At length Boabdil aroused himself from his seclusion; and Muza, to hisown surprise, was summoned to the presence of the king. He found Boabdilin one of the most gorgeous halls of his gorgeous palace.
Within the Tower of Comares is a vast chamber, still called the hallof the Ambassadors. Here it was that Boabdil now held his court. On theglowing walls hung trophies and banners, and here and there an Arabianportrait of some bearded king. By the windows, which overlooked the mostlovely banks of the Llarro, gathered the santons and alfaquis, a littleapart from the main crowd. Beyond, through half-veiling draperies, mightbe seen the great court of the Alberca, whose peristyles were hung withflowers; while, in the centre, the gigantic basin, which gives its nameto the court, caught the sunlight obliquely, and its waves glittered onthe eye from amidst the roses that then clustered over it.
In the audience hall itself, a canopy, over the royal cushions on whichBoabdil reclined, was blazoned with the heraldic insignia of Granada'smonarchs. His guard, and his mutes, and his eunuchs, and his courtiers,and his counsellors, and his captains, were ranged in long files oneither side the canopy. It seemed the last flicker of the lamp of theMoorish empire, that hollow and unreal pomp! As Muza approached themonarch, he was startled by the change of his countenance: the youngand beautiful Boabdil seemed to have grown suddenly old; his eyes weresunken, his countenance sown with wrinkles, and his voice sounded brokenand hollow on the ears of his kinsman.
"Come hither, Muza," said he; "seat thyself beside me, and listen asthou best canst to the tidings we are about to hear."
As Muza placed himself on a cushion, a little below the king, Boabdilmotioned to one amongst the crowd. "Hamet," said he, "thou hast examinedthe state of the Christian camp; what news dost thou bring?"
"Light of the Faithful," answered the Moor, "it is a camp no longer--ithas already become a city. Nine towns of Spain were charged with thetask; stone has taken the place of canvas; towers and streets arise likethe buildings of a genius; and the misbelieving king hath sworn thatthis new city shall not be left until Granada sees his standard on itswalls."
"Go on," said Boabdil, calmly.
"Traders and men of merchandise flock thither daily; the spot is onebazaar; all that should supply our famishing country pours its plentyinto their mart."
Boabdil motioned to the Moor to withdraw, and an alfaqui advanced in hisstead.
"Successor of the Prophet, and darling of the world!" said the reverendman, "the alfaquis and seers of Granada implore thee on their knees tolisten to their voice. They have consulted the Books of Fate; thy haveimplored a sign from the Prophet; and they find that the glory has leftthy people and thy crown. The fall of Granada is predestined; God isgreat!"
"You shall have my answer forthwith," said Boabdil. "Abdelemic,approach."
From the crowd came an aged and white-bearded man, the governor of thecity.
"Speak, old man," said the king.
"Oh, Boabdil!" said the veteran, with faltering tones, while the tearsrolled down his cheeks; "son of a race of kings and heroes! would thatthy servant had fallen dead on thy threshold this day, and that thelips of a Moorish noble had never been polluted by the words that Inow utter! Our state is hopeless; our granaries are as the sands of thedesert: there is in them life neither for beast nor man. The war-horsethat bore the hero is now consumed for his food; the population of thycity, with one voice, cry for chains and--bread! I have spoken."
"Admit the Ambassador of Egypt," said Boabdil, as Abdelmelic retired.There was a pause: one of the draperies at the end of the hall was drawnaside; and with the slow and sedate majesty of their tribe and land,paced forth a dark and swarthy train, the envoys of the Egyptian soldan.Six of the band bore costly presents of gems and weapons, and theprocession closed with four veiled slaves, whose beauty had been theboast of the ancient valley of the Nile.
"Sun of Granada and day--star of the faithful!" said the chief of theEgyptians, "my lord, the Soldan of Egypt, delight of the world, androse-tree of the East, thus answers to the letters of Boabdil. Hegrieves that he cannot send the succour thou demandest; and informinghimself of the condition of thy territories, he finds that Granada nolonger holds a seaport by which his forces (could he send them) mightfind an entrance into Spain. He implores thee to put thy trust in Allah,who will not desert his chosen ones, and lays these gifts, in pledge ofamity and love, at the feet of my lord the king."
"It is a gracious and well-timed offering," said Boabdil, with awrithing lip; "we thank him." There was now a long and dead silence asthe ambassadors swept from the hall of audience, when Boabdil suddenlyraised his head from his breast and looked around his hall with a kinglyand majestic look: "Let the heralds of Ferdinand of Spain approach."
A groan involuntarily broke from the breast of Muza: it was echoed bya murmur of abhorrence and despair from the gallant captains who stoodaround; but to that momentary burst succeeded a breathless silence, asfrom another drapery, opposite the royal couch, gleamed the burnishedmail of the knights of Spain. Foremost of these haughty visitors, whoseiron heels clanked loudly on the tesselated floor, came a noble andstately form, in full armour, save the helmet, and with a mantle ofazure velvet, wrought with the silver cross that made the badge of theChristian war. Upon his manly countenance was visible no sign of unduearrogance or exultation; but something of that generous pity which bravemen feel for conquered foes dimmed the lustre of his commanding eye, andsoftened the wonted sternness of his martial bearing. He and his trainapproached the king with a profound salutation of respect; and fallingback, motioned to the herald that accompanied him, and whose garb,breast and back, was wrought with the arms of Spain, to deliver himselfof his mission.
"To Boabdil!" said the herald, with a loud voice, that filled the wholeexpanse, and thrilled with various emotions the dumb assembly. "ToBoabdil el C
hico, King of Granada, Ferdinand of Arragon and Isabel ofCastile send royal greeting. They command me to express their hope thatthe war is at length concluded; and they offer to the King of Granadasuch terms of capitulation as a king, without dishonour, may receive.In the stead of this city, which their Most Christian Majesties willrestore to their own dominion, as is just, they offer, O king, princelyterritories in the Alpuxarras mountains to your sway, holding them byoath of fealty to the Spanish crown. To the people of Granada, theirMost Christian Majesties promise full protection of property, life,and faith under a government by their own magistrates, and accordingto their own laws; exemption from tribute for three years; and taxesthereafter, regulated by the custom and ratio of their present imposts.To such Moors as, discontented with these provisions, would abandonGranada, are promised free passage for themselves and their wealth.In return for these marks of their royal bounty, their Most ChristianMajesties summon Granada to surrender (if no succour meanwhile arrive)within seventy days. And these offers are now solemnly recorded in thepresence, and through the mission, of the noble and renowned knight,Gonzalvo of Cordova, deputed by their Most Christian Majesties fromtheir new city of Santa Fe."
When the herald had concluded, Boabdil cast his eye over his throngedand splendid court. No glance of fire met his own; amidst the silentcrowd, a resigned content was alone to be perceived: the proposalsexceeded the hope of the besieged.
"And," asked Boabdil, with a deep-drawn sigh, "if we reject theseoffers?"
"Noble prince," said Gonzalvo, earnestly, "ask us not to wound thineears with the alternative. Pause, and consider of our offers; and, ifthou doubtest, O brave king! mount the towers of thine Alhambra, surveyour legions marshalled beneath thy walls, and turn thine eyes upon abrave people, defeated, not by human valour, but by famine, and theinscrutable will of God."
"Your monarchs shall have our answer, gentle Christian, perchance erenightfall. And you, Sir Knight, who hast delivered a message bitter forkings to bear, receive, at least, our thanks for such bearing as mightbest mitigate the import. Our vizier will bear to your apartment thosetokens of remembrance that are yet left to the monarch of Granada tobestow."
"Muza," resumed the king, as the Spaniards left the presence--"thou hastheard all. What is the last counsel thou canst give thy sovereign?"
The fierce Moor had with difficulty waited this licence to utter suchsentiments as death only could banish from that unconquerable heart. Herose, descended from the couch, and, standing a little below theking, and facing the motley throng of all of wise or brave yet left toGranada, thus spoke:--
"Why should we surrender? two hundred thousand inhabitants are yetwithin our walls; of these, twenty thousand, at least, are Moors, whohave hands and swords. Why should we surrender? Famine presses us, it istrue; but hunger, that makes the lion more terrible, shall it make theman more base? Do ye despair? so be it! despair in the valiant oughtto have an irresistible force. Despair has made cowards brave: shall itsink the brave to cowards? Let us arouse the people; hitherto we havedepended too much upon the nobles. Let us collect our whole force, andmarch upon this new city, while the soldiers of Spain are employed intheir new profession of architects and builders. Hear me, O God andprophet of the Moslem! hear one who never was forsworn! If, Moors ofGranada, ye adopt my counsel, I cannot promise ye victory, but Ipromise ye never to live without it: I promise ye, at least, yourindependence--for the dead know no chains! If we cannot live, let usso die that we may leave to remotest ages a glory that shall be moredurable than kingdoms. King of Granada! this is the counsel of Muza BenAbil Gazan."
The prince ceased. But he, whose faintest word had once breathed fireinto the dullest, had now poured out his spirit upon frigid and lifelessmatter. No man answered--no man moved.
Boabdil alone, clinging to the shadow of hope, turned at last towardsthe audience.
"Warriors and sages!" he said, "as Muza's counsel is your king's desire,say but the word, and, ere the hour-glass shed its last sand, the blastof our trumpet shall be ringing through the Vivarrambla."
"O king! fight not against the will of fate--God is great!" replied thechief of the alfaquis.
"Alas!" said Abdelmelic, "if the voice of Muza and your own falls thuscoldly upon us, how can ye stir the breadless and heartless multitude?"
"Is such your general thought and your general will?" said Boabdil.
An universal murmur answered, "Yes!"
"Go then, Abdelmelic;" resumed the ill-starred king; "go with yonSpaniards to the Christian camp, and bring us back the best terms youcan obtain. The crown has passed from the head of El Zogoybi; Fatesets her seal upon my brow. Unfortunate was the commencement of myreign--unfortunate its end. Break up the divan."
The words of Boabdil moved and penetrated an audience, never till thenso alive to his gentle qualities, his learned wisdom, and his naturalvalour. Many flung themselves at his feet, with tears and sighs; and thecrowd gathered round to touch the hem of his robe.
Muza gazed at them in deep disdain, with folded arms and heaving breast.
"Women, not men!" he exclaimed, "ye weep, as if ye had not blood stillleft to shed! Ye are reconciled to the loss of liberty, because ye aretold ye shall lose nothing else. Fools and dupes! I see, from the spotwhere my spirit stands above ye, the dark and dismal future to which yeare crawling on your knees: bondage and rapine--the violence of lawlesslust--the persecution of hostile faith--your gold wrung from ye bytorture--your national name rooted from the soil. Bear this, andremember me! Farewell, Boabdil! you I pity not; for your gardens haveyet a poison, and your armories a sword. Farewell, nobles and santons ofGranada! I quit my country while it is yet free."
Scarcely had he ceased, ere he had disappeared from the hall. It was asthe parting genius of Granada!
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