University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER II.

In the year 1478, a Spanish cavalier,
of powerful frame and haughty demeanour,
arrived at the gates of Granada as
ambassador from the Catholic monarchs,
to demand the arrear of tribute. His
name was Don Juan de Vera, a zealous
and devout knight, full of ardour for the
faith and loyalty for the crown. He was
gallantly mounted, armed at all points,
and followed by a moderate but well-appointed
retinue.

The Moorish inhabitants looked jealously
at this small but proud array of
Spanish chivalry, as it paraded, with that
stateliness possessed only by Spanish cavaliers,
through the renowed gate of Elvira.
They were struck with the stern
and lofty demeanour of Don Juan de
Vera, and his sinewy frame, which showed
him formed for hardy deeds of arms;
and they supposed he had come in search
of distinction, by defying the Moorish
knights in open tourney, or in the famous
tilt with reeds for which they were so
renowned. For it was still the custom
of the knights of either nation to mingle
in these courteous and chivalrous contests,
during the intervals of war. When
they learned, however, that he was come
to demand the tribute so abhorrent to the
ears of the fiery monarch, they observed,
that it required a warrior of his apparent
nerve to execute such an embassy.

Muley Aben Hassan received the cavalier
in state, seated on a magnificent divan,
and surrounded by the officers of his
court, in the hall of ambassadors, one of
the most sumptuous apartments of the
Alhambra. When De Vera had delivered
his message, a haughty and bitter
smile curled the lip of the fierce monarch.
"Tell your sovereigns," said he, "that
the kings of Granada, who used to pay
tribute in money to the Castilian crown,
are dead. Our mint at present coins nothing
but blades of cimeters and heads of
lances."[7]

The defiance couched in this proud
reply was heard with stern and lofty
courtesy by Don Juan de Vera; for he
was a bold soldier, and a devout hater of
the infidels, and he saw iron war in the
words of the Moorish monarch. He retired
from the audience-chamber with
stately and ceremonious gravity, being
master of all points of etiquette. As he
passed through the Court of Lions, and
paused to regard its celebrated fountain,
he fell into a discourse with the Moorish
courtiers on certain mysteries of the
Christian faith. The arguments advanced
by these infidels, says Fray Antonio Agapida,
awakened the pious indignation of
this most Christian knight and discreet
ambassador, but still he restrained himself
within the limits of lofty gravity,
leaning on the pommel of his sword, and
looking down with ineffable scorn upon
the weak casuists around him. The quick
and subtle Arabian witlings redoubled
their light attacks upon that stately Spaniard,
and thought they had completely
foiled him in the contest; but the stern
Juan de Vera had an argument in reserve,
for which they were but little prepared;
for, on one of them, of the race of
the Abencerrages, daring to question,
with a sneer, the immaculate conception
of the blessed Virgin, the Catholic knight
could no longer restrain his ire. Elevating
his voice of a sudden, he told the
infidel he lied, and raising his arm at the
same time, he smote him on the head with
his sheathed sword.

In an instant the Court of Lions glistened
with the flash of arms, and its fountains
would have been dyed with blood,
had not Muley Aben Hassan overheard
the tumult, and forbade all appeal to force,
pronouncing the person of the ambassador
sacred, while within his territories.
The Abencerrage treasured up the remembrance
of the insult until an hour of
vengeance should arrive, and the ambassador
prayed our blessed Lady to grant
him an opportunity of proving her immaculate
conception on the head of this turbaned
infidel.[8]

Notwithstanding this occurrence, Don

Juan de Vera was treated with great distinction
by Muley Aben Hassan; but nothing
could make him unbend from his
stern and stately reserve. Before his departure,
a cimeter was sent to him by the
king; the blade of the finest Damascus
steel, the hilt of agate, enriched with
precious stones, and the guard of gold.
De Vera drew it, and smiled grimly as
he noticed the admirable temper of the
blade. "His majesty has given me a
trenchant weapon," said he: "I trust a
time will come, when I may show him
that I know how to use his royal present."
The reply was considered as a compliment,
of course; the bystanders little
knew the bitter hostility that lay couched
beneath.

Don Juan de Vera and his companions,
during his brief sojourn at Granada,
scanned the force and situation of the
Moor with the eyes of practised warriors.
They saw, that he was well prepared
for hostilities. His walls and towers
were of vast strength, in complete repair,
and mounted with lombards and other
heavy ordnance. His magazines were
well stored with all the munitions of war:
he had a mighty host of foot-soldiers, together
with squadrons of cavalry, ready
to scour the country, and carry on either
defensive or predatory warfare. The
Christian warriors noted these things
without dismay; their hearts rather
glowed with emulation at the thoughts
of encountering so worthy a foe. As
they slowly pranced through the streets
of Granada on their departure, they looked
round with eagerness on its stately
palaces and sumptuous mosques; on its
alcayceria or bazar, crowded with silks
and cloth of silver and gold, with jewels
and precious stones, and other rich merchandise,
the luxuries of every clime;
and they longed for the time, when all
this wealth should be the spoil of the
soldiers of the faith, and when each tramp
of their steeds might be fetlock-deep in
the blood and carnage of the infidels.

Don Juan de Vera and his little band
pursued their way slowly through the
country to the Christian frontier. Every
town was strongly fortified. The vega
was studded with towers of refuge for the
peasantry; every pass of the mountain
had its castle of defence, every lofty height
its watch-tower. As the Christian cavaliers
passed under the walls of the fortresses,
lances and cimeters flashed from
their battlements, and the turbaned sentinels
seemed to dart from their dark eyes
glances of hatred and defiance. It was
evident, that a war with this kingdom
must be one of doughty peril and valiant
enterprise; a war of posts, where every
step must be gained by toil and bloodshed,
and maintained with the utmost
difficulty. The warrior spirit of the cavaliers
kindled with the thought, and they
were impatient for hostilities; "not,"
says Antonio Agapida, "from any thirst
for rapine and revenge, but from that
pure and holy indignation, which every
Spanish knight entertained at beholding
this beautiful dominion of his ancestors
defiled by the footsteps of infidel usurpers.
It was impossible," he adds, "to contemplate
this delicious country, and not long
to see it restored to the dominion of the
true faith, and the sway of the Christian
monarchs."