45. CHAPTER XLV.
Attempt of El Zagal upon the life of Boabdil, and how
the latter was roused to action.
No sooner did the last squadron of christian cavalry
disappear behind the mountain of Elvira, and
the note of its trumpets die away upon the ear, than
the long-suppressed wrath of old Muley El Zagal
burst forth. He determined no longer to be half a
king, reigning over a divided kingdom, in a divided
capital; but to exterminate, by any means, fair or
foul, his nephew Boabdil and his faction. He turned
furiously upon those whose factious conduct had deterred
him from sallying upon the foe; some he punished
by confiscations, others by banishment, others
by death. Once undisputed monarch of the entire
kingdom, he trusted to his military skill to retrieve his
fortunes, and drive the christians over the frontier.
Boabdil, however, had again retired to Velez el
Blanco, on the confines of Murcia, where he could
avail himself, in case of emergency, of any assistance
or protection afforded him by the policy of Ferdinand.
His defeat had blighted his reviving fortunes,
for the people considered him as inevitably doomed
to misfortune. Still, while he lived, El Zagal knew
he would be a rallying point for faction, and liable
at any moment to be elevated into power by the
capricious multitude. He had recourse therefore to
the most perfidious means, to compass his destruction.
He sent embassadors to him, representing the necessity
of concord for the salvation of the kingdom, and
even offering to resign the title of king, and to become
subject to his sway, on receiving some estate
on which he could live in tranquil retirement. But
while the embassadors bore these words of peace,
they were furnished with poisoned herbs, which
they were to administer secretly to Boabdil; and if
they failed in this attempt, they had pledged themselves
to dispatch him openly, while engaged in conversation.
They were instigated to this treason by
promises of great reward, and by assurances from
the alfaquis that Boabdil was an apostate, whose
death would be acceptable to Heaven.
The young monarch was secretly apprized of the
concerted treason, and refused an audience to the
embassadors. He denounced his uncle as the murderer
of his father and his kindred, and the usurper
of his throne; and vowed never to relent in hostility
to him, until he should place his head on the walls
of the Alhambra.
Open war again broke out between the two monarchs,
though feebly carried on, in consequence of
their mutual embarrassments. Ferdinand again extended
his assistance to Boabdil, ordering the commanders
of his fortresses to aid him in all enterprises
against his uncle, and against such places as refused
to acknowledge him as king; and Don Juan de Bonavides,
who commanded in Lorca, even made inroads
in his name, into the territories of Almeria, Baza,
and Guadix, which owned allegiance to El Zagal.
The unfortunate Boabdil had three great evils to
contend with—the inconstancy of his subjects, the
hostility of his uncle, and the friendship of Ferdinand.
The last was by far the most baneful: his
fortunes withered under it. He was looked upon as
the enemy of his faith and of his country. The cities
shut their gates against him; the people cursed him;
even the scanty band of cavaliers, who had hitherto
followed his ill-starred banner, began to desert him;
for he had not wherewithal to reward, or even to
support them. His spirits sunk with his fortune, and
he feared that in a little time he should not have a
spot of earth whereon to plant his standard, nor an
adherent to rally under it.
In the midst of his despondency, he received a
message from his lion-hearted mother, the sultana
Ayxa la Horra. “For shame,” said she, “to linger
timorously about the borders of your kingdom, when
a usurper is seated in your capital. Why look abroad
for perfidious aid, when you have loyal hearts beating
true to you in Granada? The Albaycin is ready
to throw open its gates to receive you. Strike home
vigorously—a sudden blow may mend all, or make
an end. A throne or a grave!—for a king, there is
no honorable medium.”
Boabdil was of an undecided character, but there
are circumstances which bring the most wavering to
a decision, and when once resolved they are apt to
act with a daring impulse, unknown to steadier judgments.
The message of the sultana roused him from
a dream. Granada, beautiful Granada, with its stately
Alhambra, its delicious gardens, its gushing and
limpid fountains sparkling among groves of orange,
citron, and myrtle, rose before him. “What have I
done,” exclaimed he, “that I should be an exile
from this paradise of my forefathers—a wanderer
and fugitive in my own kingdom, while a murderous
usurper sits proudly upon my throne? Surely Allah
will befriend the righteous cause; one blow, and all
may be my own.”
He summoned his scanty band of cavaliers. “Who
is ready to follow his monarch unto the death?” said
he: and every one laid his hand upon his scimitar.
“Enough!” said he; “let each man arm himself and
prepare his steed in secret, for an enterprise of toil
and peril: if we succeed, our reward is empire.”
END OF VOL. I.
