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31. CHAPTER XXXI.
How two Friars arrived at the camp, and how they came
from the Holy Land.

While the holy christian army (says Fray Antonio
Agapida) was thus beleaguring this infidel city of
Baza, there rode into the camp, one day, two reverend
friars of the order of Saint Francis. One was
of portly person, and authoritative air: he bestrode
a goodly steed, well conditioned and well caparisoned;
while his companion rode beside him, upon a
humble hack, poorly accoutred, and, as he rode, he
scarcely raised his eyes from the ground, but maintained
a meek and lowly air.

The arrival of two friars in the camp was not a
matter of much note, for in these holy wars the
church militant continually mingled in the affray,
and helmet and cowl were always seen together;
but it was soon discovered that these worthy saints-errant
were from a far country, and on a mission of
great import.

They were, in truth, just arrived from the Holy
Land, being two of the saintly men who kept vigil
over the sepulchre of our blessed Lord at Jerusalem.
He of the tall and portly form and commanding
presence, was Fray Antonio Millan, prior of the
Franciscan convent in the holy city. He had a full
and florid countenance, a sonorous voice, and was

round, and swelling, and copious in his periods, like
one accustomed to harangue, and to be listened to
with deference. His companion was small and spare
in form, pale of visage, and soft and silken and almost
whispering in speech. “He had a humble and
lowly way,” says Agapida, “evermore bowing the
head, as became one of his calling.” Yet he was one
of the most active, zealous, and effective brothers
of the convent; and when he raised his small black
eye from the earth, there was a keen glance out of
the corner, which showed, that though harmless as a
dove, he was nevertheless as wise as a serpent.

These holy men had come on a momentous embassy
from the grand soldan of Egypt; or, as Agapida
terms him in the language of the day, the soldan
of Babylon. The league which had been made between
that potentate and his arch-foe the Grand-Turk
Bajazet II., to unite in arms for the salvation
of Granada, as has been mentioned in a previous
chapter of this chronicle, had come to nought. The
infidel princes had again taken up arms against each
other, and had relapsed into their ancient hostility.
Still the grand soldan, as head of the whole Moslem
sect, considered himself bound to preserve the kingdom
of Granada from the grasp of unbelievers. He
dispatched, therefore, these two holy friars with
letters to the Castilian sovereigns, as well as to the
pope and to the king of Naples, remonstrating against
the evils done to the Moors of the kingdom of Granada,
who were of his faith and kindred; whereas it
was well known that great numbers of christians

were indulged and protected in the full enjoyment of
their property, their liberty, and their faith, in his
dominions. He insisted, therefore, that this war
should cease; that the Moors of Granada should be
reinstated in the territory of which they had been
dispossessed; otherwise he threatened to put to death
all the christians beneath his sway, to demolish
their convents and temples, and to destroy the holy
sepulchre.

This fearful menace had spread consternation
among the christians of Palestine; and when the
intrepid Fray Antonio Millan and his lowly companion
departed on their mission, they were accompanied
far from the gates of Jerusalem by an anxious
throng of brethren and disciples, who remained
watching them with tearful eyes, as they journeyed
over the plains of Judea.

These holy ambassadors were received with great
distinction by king Ferdinand; for men of their cloth
had ever high honor and consideration in his court.
He had long and frequent conversations with them,
about the Holy Land; the state of the christian
church in the dominions of the grand soldan, and of
the policy and conduct of that arch-infidel towards
it. The portly prior of the Franciscan convent was
full, and round, and oratorical, in his replies; and
the king expressed himself much pleased with the
eloquence of his periods; but the politic monarch
was observed to lend a close and attentive ear to the
whispering voice of the lowly companion, “whose
discourse,” adds Agapida, “though modest and low,

was clear and fluent, and full of subtle wisdom.”
These holy friars had visited Rome in their journeying,
where they had delivered the letter of the soldan
to the sovereign pontiff. His holiness had written
by them to the Castilian sovereigns, requesting to
know what reply they had to offer to this demand of
the oriental potentate.

The king of Naples also wrote to them on the
subject, but in wary terms. He inquired into the
cause of this war with the Moors of Granada, and
expressed great marvel at its events, as if (says
Agapida) both were not notorious throughout all the
christian world. “Nay,” adds the worthy friar with
becoming indignation, “he uttered opinions savoring
of little better than damnable heresy;—for he observed,
that although the Moors were of a different
sect, they ought not to be maltreated without just
cause; and hinted that if the Castilian sovereigns did
not suffer any crying injury from the Moors, it would
be improper to do any thing which might draw great
damage upon the christians: as if, when once the
sword of the faith was drawn, it ought ever to be
sheathed until this scum of heathendom were utterly
destroyed or driven from the land. But this monarch,”
he continues, “was more kindly disposed
towards the infidels than was honest and lawful in a
christian prince, and was at that very time in league
with the soldan against their common enemy the
Grand-Turk.”

These pious sentiments of the truly Catholic
Agapida, are echoed by Padre Mariana, in his histo

ry;[1] but the worthy chronicler Pedro Abarca attributes
the interference of the king of Naples, not to
lack of orthodoxy in religion, but to an excess of
worldly policy; he being apprehensive that, should
Ferdinand conquer the Moors of Granada, he might
have time and means to assert a claim of the house
of Arragon to the crown of Naples.

“King Ferdinand,” continues the worthy father
Pedro Abarca, “was no less master of dissimulation
than his cousin of Naples; so he replied to him with
the utmost suavity of manner, going into a minute and
patient vindication of the war, and taking great apparent
pains to inform him of those things which all
the world knew, but of which the other pretended
to be ignorant.”[2] At the same time he soothed his
solicitude about the fate of the christians in the empire
of the grand soldan, assuring him that the great
revenue extorted from them in rents and tributes,
would be a certain protection against the threatened
violence.

To the pope he made the usual vindication of the
war; that it was for the recovery of ancient territory,
usurped by the Moors; for the punishment of
wars and violences inflicted upon the christians; and
finally, that it was a holy crusade for the glory and
advancement of the church.

“It was a truly edifying sight,” says Agapida, “to
behold these friars, after they had had their audience

of the king, moving about the camp always surrounded
by nobles and cavaliers of high and martial
renown. These were insatiable in their questions
about the Holy Land, the state of the sepulchre of
our Lord, and the sufferings of the devoted brethren
who guarded it, and the pious pilgrims who resorted
there to pay their vows. The portly prior of the
convent would stand with lofty and shining countenance
in the midst of these iron warriors, and declaim
with resounding eloquence on the history of
the sepulchre; but the humbler brother would ever
and anon sigh deeply, and in low tones utter some
tale of suffering and outrage, at which his steel-clad
hearers would grasp the hilts of their swords, and
mutter between their clinched teeth prayers for another
crusade.”

The pious friars, having finished their mission to
the king, and been treated with all due distinction,
took their leave and wended their way to Jaen, to
visit the most Catholic of queens. Isabella, whose
heart was the seat of piety, received them as sacred
men, invested with more than human dignity. During
their residence at Jaen, they were continually in the
royal presence; the respectable prior of the convent
moved and melted the ladies of the court by his
florid rhetoric, but his lowly companion was observed
to have continual access to the royal ear. That
saintly and soft-spoken messenger (says Agapida)
received the reward of his humility; for the queen,
moved by his frequent representations, made in all
modesty and lowliness of spirit, granted a yearly sum

in perpetuity, of one thousand ducats in gold, for the
support of the monks of the convent of the holy
sepulchre.[3]

Moreover, on the departure of these holy ambassadors,
the excellent and most Catholic queen delivered
to them a veil devoutly embroidered with her
own royal hands, to be placed over the holy sepulchre;—a
precious and inestimable present, which
called forth a most eloquent tribute of thanks from
the portly prior, but which brought tears into the
eyes of his lowly companion.[4]