28. CHAPTER XXVIII.
Attempt of El Zagal to surprise Boabdil in Almeria.
During this year of sorrow and disaster to the
Moors, the younger king Boabdil, most truly called
the unfortunate, held a diminished and feeble court
in the maritime city of Almeria. He retained little
more than the name of king, and was supported in
even this shadow of royalty, by the countenance and
treasures of the Castilian sovereigns. Still he trusted,
that, in the fluctuation of events, the inconstant nation
might once more return to his standard, and replace
him on the throne of the Alhambra.
His mother, the high-spirited sultana Ayxa la
Horra, endeavored to rouse him from this passive
state. “It is a feeble mind,” said she, “that waits
for the turn of fortune's wheel; the brave mind seizes
upon it, and turns it to its purpose. Take the field,
and you may drive danger before you; remain cowering
at home, and it besieges you in your dwelling.
By a bold enterprise, you may regain your splendid
throne in Granada; by passive forbearance, you will
forfeit even this miserable throne in Almeria.”
Boabdil had not the force of soul to follow these
courageous counsels, and in a little time the evils his
mother had predicted fell upon him.
Old Muley Aben Hassan was almost extinguished
by age and infirmity. He had nearly lost his sight,
and was completely bedridden. His brother Abdallah,
surnamed El Zagal, or the valiant, the same
who had assisted in the massacre of the Spanish
chivalry among the mountains of Malaga, was commander-in-chief
of the Moorish armies, and gradually
took upon himself most of the cares of sovereignty.
Among other things, he was particularly zealous in
espousing his brother's quarrel with his son; and he
prosecuted it with such vehemence, that many affirmed
there was something more than mere fraternal
sympathy at the bottom of his zeal.
The disasters and disgraces inflicted on the country
by the christians during this year, had wounded the
national feelings of the people of Almeria; and many
had felt indignant that Boabdil should remain passive
at such a time, or rather, should appear to make a
common cause with the enemy. His uncle Abdallah
diligently fomented this feeling, by his agents. The
same arts were made use of, that had been successful
in Granada, Boabdil was secretly but actively denounced
by the alfaquis, as an apostate, leagued with
the christians against his country and his early faith;
the affections of the populace and soldiery were
gradually alienated from him, and a deep conspiracy
concerted for his destruction.
In the month of February, 1485, El Zagal suddenly
appeared before Almeria, at the head of a troop of
horse. The alfaquis were prepared for his arrival,
and the gates were thrown open to him. He entered
with his band, and galloped to the citadel. The alcayde
would have made resistance; but the garrison
put him to death, and received El Zagal with acclaclamations.
El Zagal rushed through the apartments
of the Alcazar, but he sought in vain for Boabdil.
He found the sultana Ayxa la Horra in one of the
saloons, with Ben Ahagete, a younger brother of the
monarch, a valiant Abencerrage, and several attendants,
who rallied round them to protect them.
“Where is the traitor Boabdil?” exclaimed El
Zagal. “I know no traitor more perfidious than
thyself,” exclaimed the intrepid sultana; “and I
trust my son is in safety, to take vengeance on thy
treason.” The rage of El Zagal was without bounds,
when he learnt that his intended victim had escaped.
In his fury he slew the prince Ben Ahagete, and his
followers fell upon and massacred the Abencerrage
and attendants. As to the proud sultana, she was
borne away prisoner, and loaded with revilings, as
having upheld her son in his rebellion, and fomented
a civil war.
The unfortunate Boabdil had been apprized of his
danger by a faithful soldier, just in time to make his
escape. Throwing himself on one of the fleetest
horses in his stables, and followed by a handful of adherents,
he had galloped in the confusion out of the
gates of Almeria. Several of the cavalry of El Zagal,
who were stationed without the walls, perceived his
flight, and attempted to pursue him; their horses
were jaded with travel, and he soon left them far
behind. But, whither was he to fly? Every fortress
and castle in the kingdom of Granada was closed
against him; he knew not whom among the Moors
to trust, for they had been taught to detest him as a
traitor and an apostate. He had no alternative but
to seek refuge among the christians, his hereditary
enemies. With a heavy heart, he turned his horse's
head towards Cordova. He had to lurk, like a fugitive,
through a part of his own dominions; nor did
he feel himself secure, until he had passed the frontier,
and beheld the mountain barrier of his country
towering behind him. Then it was that he became
conscious of his humiliating state—a fugitive from
his throne, an outcast from his nation, a king without
a kingdom. He smote his breast, in an agony of
grief: “Evil indeed,” exclaimed he, “was the day
of my birth, and truly was I named El Zogoybi, the
unlucky.”
He entered the gates of Cordova with downcast
countenance, and with a train of but forty followers.
The sovereigns were absent; but the cavaliers of
Andalusia manifested that sympathy in the misfortunes
of the monarch, that becomes men of lofty and
chivalrous souls. They received him with great
distinction, attended him with the utmost courtesy,
and he was honorably entertained by the civil and
military commanders of that ancient city.
In the mean time, El Zagal put a new alcayde
over Almeria, to govern in the name of his brother;
and, having strongly garrisoned the place, he repaired
to Malaga, where an attack of the christians was
apprehended. The young monarch being driven
out of the land, and the old monarch blind and bedridden,
El Zagal, at the head of the armies, was virtually
the sovereign of Granada. The people were
pleased with having a new idol to look up to, and a
new name to shout forth; and El Zagal was hailed
with acclamations, as the main hope of the nation.