University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.
How King Boabdil el Chico marched over the border.

The defeat of the christian cavaliers among the
mountains of Malaga, and the successful inroad of
Muley Aben Hassan into the lands of Medina Sidonia,
had produced a favorable effect on the fortunes of
the old monarch. The inconstant populace began to
shout forth his name in the streets, and to sneer at
the inactivity of his son Boabdil el Chico. The latter,
though in the flower of his age, and distinguished for
vigor and dexterity in jousts and tournaments, had
never yet fleshed his weapon in the field of battle;
and it was murmured that he preferred the silken repose
of the cool halls of the Alhambra, to the fatigue
and danger of the foray, and the hard encampments
of the mountains.

The popularity of these rival kings depended upon
their success against the christians, and Boabdil el
Chico found it necessary to strike some signal blow
to counterbalance the late triumph of his father. He
was further incited by the fierce old Moor, his father-in-law,
Ali Atar, alcayde of Loxa, with whom the
coals of wrath against the christians still burned
among the ashes of age, and had lately been blown
into a flame by the attack made by Ferdinand on the
city under his command.

Ali Atar informed Boabdil that the late discomfiture

of the christian knights had stripped Andalusia
of the prime of her chivalry, and broken the spirit
of the country. All the frontier of Cordova and
Ecija now lay open to inroad; but he especially
pointed out the city of Lucena as an object of attack,
being feebly garrisoned, and lying in a country rich
in pasturage, abounding in cattle and grain, in oil and
wine. The fiery old Moor spoke from thorough information;
for he had made many an incursion into
these parts, and his very name was a terror throughout
the country. It had become a by-word in the
garrison of Loxa to call Lucena the garden of Ali
Atar, for he was accustomed to forage its fertile territories
for all his supplies.

Boabdil el Chico listened to the persuasions of this
veteran of the borders. He assembled a force of
nine thousand foot and seven hundred horse, most
of them his own adherents, but many the partisans
of his father; for both factions, however they might
fight among themselves, were ready to unite in any
expedition against the christians. Many of the most
illustrious and valiant of the Moorish nobility assembled
around his standard, magnificently arrayed in
sumptuous armor and rich embroidery, as though
they were going to a festival or a tilt of canes, rather
than an enterprise of iron war. Boabdil's mother,
the sultana Ayxa la Horra, armed him for the field,
and gave him her benediction as she girded his scimitar
to his side. His favorite wife Morayma wept, as
she thought of the evils that might befall him. “Why
dost thou weep, daughter of Ali Atar?” said the high-minded

Ayxa: “these tears become not the daughter
of a warrior, nor the wife of a king. Believe me,
there lurks more danger for a monarch within the
strong walls of a palace, than within the frail curtains
of a tent. It is by perils in the field, that thy husband
must purchase security on his throne.”

But Morayma still hung upon his neck, with tears
and sad forebodings; and when he departed from the
Alhambra, she betook herself to her mirador, which
looks out over the vega. From thence she watched
the army, as it went, in shining order, along the road
which leads to Loxa; and every burst of warlike
melody that came swelling on the breeze, was answered
by a gush of sorrow.

As the royal cavalcade issued from the palace and
descended through the streets of Granada, the populace
greeted their youthful sovereign with shouts,
and anticipated success that should wither the laurels
of his father. In passing through the gate of Elvira,
however, the king accidentally broke his lance against
the arch. At this, certain of his nobles turned pale,
and entreated him to turn back, for they regarded it
as an evil omen. Boabdil scoffed at their fears, for
ne considered them mere idle fancies; or rather,
(says Fray Antonio Agapida,) he was an incredulous
pagan, puffed up with confidence and vain-glory. He
refused to take another spear, but drew forth his
scimitar, and led the way (adds Agapida) in an arrogant
and haughty style, as though he would set both
heaven and earth at defiance. Another evil omen
was sent, to deter him from his enterprise: arriving

at the rambla, or dry ravine of Beyro, which is
scarcely a bow-shot from the city, a fox ran through
the whole army, and close by the person of the king;
and, though a thousand bolts were discharged at it,
escaped uninjured to the mountains. The principal
courtiers about Boabdil now reiterated their remonstrances
against proceeding; for they considered
these occurrences as mysterious portents of disasters
to their army: the king, however, was not to be dismayed,
but continued to march forward.[1]

At Loxa, the royal army was reinforced by old
Ali Atar, with the chosen horsemen of his garrison,
and many of the bravest warriors of the border
towns. The people of Loxa shouted with exultation,
when they beheld Ali Atar, armed at all points,
and once more mounted on his Barbary steed, which
had often borne him over the borders. The veteran
warrior, with nearly a century of years upon his
head, had all the fire and animation of youth, at the
prospect of a foray, and careered from rank to rank
with the velocity of an Arab of the desert. The
populace watched the army, as it paraded over the
bridge, and wound into the passes of the mountains;
and still their eyes were fixed upon the pennon of
Ali Atar, as if it bore with it an assurance of victory.

The Moorish army entered the christian frontier
by forced marches, hastily ravaging the country,
driving off the flocks and herds, and making captives
of the inhabitants. They pressed on furiously, and

made the latter part of their march in the night, that
they might elude observation, and come upon Lucena
by surprise. Boabdil was inexperienced in the
art of war, but he had a veteran counsellor in his old
father-in-law; for Ali Atar knew every secret of the
country, and, as he prowled through it, his eye ranged
over the land, uniting, in its glare, the craft of the
fox with the sanguinary ferocity of the wolf. He
had flattered himself that their march had been so
rapid as to outstrip intelligence, and that Lucena
would be an easy capture; when suddenly he beheld
alarm-fires blazing upon the mountains. “We are
discovered,” said he to Boabdil el Chico; “the
country will be up in arms; we have nothing left
but to strike boldly for Lucena; it is but slightly garrisoned,
and we may carry it by assault before it can
receive assistance.” The king approved of his counsel,
and they marched rapidly for the gate of Lucena.