52. CHAPTER LII.
Capitulation of Granada.
The old governor, Abul Cazim Abdel Melic, was
received with great distinction by Ferdinand and Isabella,
who appointed Gonsalvo of Cordova and Fernando
de Zafra, secretary to the king, to confer with
him. All Granada awaited, in trembling anxiety, the
result of his negotiations. After repeated conferences,
he at length returned with the ultimate terms of the
Catholic sovereigns. They agreed to suspend all
attack for seventy days, at the end of which time, if
no succor should arrive to the Moorish king, the city
of Granada was to be surrendered.
All christian captives should be liberated, without
ransom.
Boabdil and his principal cavaliers should take an
oath of fealty to the Castilian crown, and certain
valuable territories in the Alpuxarra mountains should
be assigned to the Moorish monarch for his maintenance.
The Moors of Granada should become subjects of
the Spanish sovereigns, retaining their possessions,
their arms and horses, and yielding up nothing but
their artillery. They should be protected in the
exercise of their religion, and governed by their own
laws, administered by cadis of their own faith, under
governors appointed by the sovereigns. They should
be exempted from tribute for three years, after which
term they should pay the same that they had been
accustomed to render to their native monarchs.
Those who chose to depart for Africa within three
years, should be provided with a passage for themselves
and their effects, free of charge, from whatever
port they should prefer.
For the fulfilment of these articles, four hundred
hostages from the principal families were required,
previous to the surrender, to be subsequently restored.
The son of the king of Granada, and all other
hostages in possession of the Castilian sovereigns,
were to be restored at the same time.
Such were the conditions that the wazir Abul
Cazim laid before the council of Granada, as the
best that could be obtained from the besieging foe.
When the members of the council found that the
awful moment had arrived when they were to sign
and seal the perdition of their empire, and blot themselves
out as a nation, all firmness deserted them, and
many gave way to tears. Muza alone retained an
unaltered mien: “Leave, seniors,” cried he, “this
idle lamentation to helpless women and children: we
are men—we have hearts, not to shed tender tears,
but drops of blood. I see the spirit of the people so
cast down, that it is impossible to save the kingdom.
Yet there still remains an alternative for noble minds
—a glorious death! Let us die defending our liberty,
and avenging the woes of Granada. Our mother
earth will receive her children into her bosom, safe
from the chains and oppressions of the conqueror;
or, should any fail a sepulchre to hide his remains,
he will not want a sky to cover him. Allah forbid, it
should be said the nobles of Granada feared to die in
her defence!”
Muza ceased to speak, and a dead silence reigned
in the assembly. Boabdil el Chico looked anxiously
round, and scanned every face; but he read in them
all the anxiety of care-worn men, in whose hearts
enthusiasm was dead, and who had grown callous to
every chivalrous appeal. “Allah Acbar! God is
great!” exclaimed he; “there is no God but God,
and Mahomet is his prophet! It is in vain to struggle
against the will of Heaven. Too surely was it written
in the book of fate, that I should be unfortunate,
and the kingdom expire under my rule.”
“Allah Acbar! God is great!” echoed the viziers
and alfaquis; “the will of God be done!” So they
all accorded with the king, that these evils were preordained;
that it was hopeless to contend with them;
and that the terms offered by the Castilian monarchs
were as favorable as could be expected.
When Muza saw that they were about to sign the
treaty of surrender, he rose in violent indignation:
“Do not deceive yourselves,” cried he, “nor think
the christians will be faithful to their promises, or
their king as magnanimous in conquest as he has been
victorious in war. Death is the least we have to fear.
It is the plundering and sacking of our city, the profanation
of our mosques, the ruin of our homes, the
violation of our wives and daughters—cruel oppression,
bigoted intolerance, whips and chains, the dun
geon, the fagot, and the stake—such are the miseries
and indignities we shall see and suffer; at least, those
groveling souls will see them, who now shrink from
an honorable death. For my part, by Allah, I will
never witness them!”
With these words he left the council-chamber, and
strode gloomily through the Court of Lions and the
outer halls of the Alhambra, without deigning to speak
to the obsequious courtiers who attended in them.
He repaired to his dwelling, armed himself at all
points, mounted his favorite war-horse, and, issuing
forth from the city by the gate of Elvira, was never
seen or heard of more.[1]
Such is the account given by Arabian historians, of
the exit of Muza ben Abel Gazan; but the venerable
Fray Antonio Agapida endeavors to clear up the
mystery of his fate. That very evening, a small
party of Andalusian cavaliers, somewhat more than
half a score of lances, were riding along the banks of
the Xenel, where it winds through the vega. They
beheld in the twilight a Moorish warrior approaching,
closely locked up from head to foot in proof.
His visor was closed, his lance in rest, his powerful
charger barbed like himself in steel. The christians
were lightly armed, with corselet, helm, and target;
for, during the truce, they apprehended no attack.
Seeing, however, the unknown warrior approach in
this hostile guise, they challenged him to stand and
declare himself.
The Moslem answered not, but, charging into the
midst of them, transfixed one knight with his lance,
and bore him out of his saddle to the earth. Wheeling
round, he attacked the rest with his scimitar.
His blows were furious and deadly; he seemed regardless
what wounds he received, so he could but
slay. He was evidently fighting, not for glory, but
revenge—eager to inflict death, but careless of surviving
to enjoy victory. Near one-half of the cavaliers
fell beneath his sword, before he received a dangerous
wound, so completely was he cased in armor of proof.
At length he was desperately wounded, and his
steed, being pierced by a lance, sank to the ground.
The christians, admiring the valor of the Moor, would
have spared his life; but he continued to fight upon
his knees, brandishing a keen dagger of Fez. Finding
at length he could no longer battle, and determined
not to be taken prisoner, he threw himself,
with an expiring exertion, into the Xenel, and his
armor sank him to the bottom of the stream.
This unknown warrior the venerable Agapida
pronounces to have been Muza ben Abel Gazan,
and says his horse was recognised by certain converted
Moors of the christian camp: the fact, however,
has alway remained in doubt.
