1. CHAPTER I.
How Boabdil returned secretly to Granada, and how he
was received.
“In the hand of God,” exclaims an old Arabian
chronicler, “is the destiny of princes; he alone
giveth empire. A single Moorish horseman, mounted
on a fleet Arabian steed, was one day traversing
the mountains which extend between Granada and
the frontier of Murcia. He galloped swiftly through
the valleys, but paused and looked out cautiously
from the summit of every height. A squadron of
cavaliers followed warily at a distance. There were
fifty lances. The richness of their armor and attire
showed them to be warriors of noble rank, and their
leader had a lofty and prince-like demeanor.” The
squadron thus described by the Arabian chronicler,
was the Moorish king Boabdil and his devoted followers.
For two nights and a day they pursued their adventurous
journey, avoiding all populous parts of the
country, and choosing the most solitary passes of the
mountains. They suffered severe hardships and fatigues,
but they suffered without a murmur: they
were accustomed to rugged campaigning, and their
steeds were of generous and unyielding spirit. It
was midnight, and all was dark and silent as they
descended from the mountains, and approached the
city of Granada. They passed along quietly under
the shadow of its walls, until they arrived near the
gate of the Albaycin. Here Boabdil ordered his
followers to halt, and remain concealed. Taking
but four or five with him, he advanced resolutely to
the gate, and knocked with the hilt of his scimitar.
The guards demanded who sought to enter at that
unseasonable hour. “Your king!” exclaimed Boabdil,
“open the gate and admit him!”
The guards held forth a light, and recognised the
person of the youthful monarch. They were struck
with sudden awe, and threw open the gates; and
Boabdil and his followers entered unmolested. They
galloped to the dwellings of the principal inhabitants
of the Albaycin, thundering at their portals, and
summoning them to rise and take arms for their
rightful sovereign. The summons was instantly obeyed:
trumpets resounded throughout the streets—the
gleam of torches and the flash of arms showed the
Moors hurrying to their gathering-places—and by
daybreak, the whole force of the Albaycin was rallied
under the standard of Boabdil. Such was the
success of this sudden and desperate act of the
young monarch; for we are assured by contemporary
historians, that there had been no previous concert
or arrangement. “As the guards opened the
gates of the city to admit him,” observes a pious
chronicler, “so God opened the hearts of the Moors
to receive him as their king.”
[1]
In the morning early, the tidings of this event
roused El Zagal from his slumbers in the Alhambra.
The fiery old warrior assembled his guard in haste,
and made his way sword in hand to the Albaycin,
hoping to come upon his nephew by surprise. He
was vigorously met by Boabdil and his adherents,
and driven back into the quarter of the Alhambra.
An encounter took place between the two kings, in
the square before the principal mosque; here they
fought hand to hand with implacable fury, as though
it had been agreed to decide their competition for
the crown by single combat. In the tumult of this
chance medley affray, however, they were separated,
and the party of El Zagal was ultimately driven
from the square.
The battle raged for some time in the streets and
places of the city, but finding their powers of mischief
cramped within such narrow limits, both parties
sallied forth into the fields, and fought beneath the
walls until evening. Many fell on both sides, and at
night each party withdrew into its quarter, until the
morning gave them light to renew the unnatural
conflict. For several days, the two grand divisions
of the city remained like hostile powers arrayed
against each other. The party of the Alhambra was
more numerous than that of the Albaycin, and contained
most of the nobility and chivalry; but the
adherents of Boabdil were men hardened and
strengthened by labor, and habitually skilled in the
exercise of arms.
The Albaycin underwent a kind of siege by the
forces of El Zagal; they effected breaches in the
walls, and made repeated attempts to carry it sword
in hand, but were as often repulsed. The troops of
Boabdil, on the other hand, made frequent sallies;
and in the conflicts which took place, the hatred of
the combatants arose to such a pitch of fury, that no
quarter was given on either side.
Boabdil perceived the inferiority of his force; he
dreaded also that his adherents, being for the most
part tradesmen and artisans, would become impatient
of this interruption of their gainful occupations,
and disheartened by these continual scenes of carnage.
He sent missives, therefore, in all haste, to
Don Fadrique de Toledo, who commanded the
christian forces on the frontier, entreating his assistance.
Don Fadrique had received instructions from the
politic Ferdinand, to aid the youthful monarch in all
his contests with his uncle. He advanced therefore
with a body of troops near to Granada, but, wary
lest some treachery might be intended, he stood for
some time aloof, watching the movements of the
parties. The furious and sanguinary nature of the
conflicts, which distracted unhappy Granada, soon
convinced him that there was no collusion between
the monarchs. He sent Boabdil, therefore, a reinforcement
of christian foot-soldiers and arquebusiers,
under Fernan Alvarez de Sotomayer, alcayde of
Colomera. This was as a firebrand thrown in to light
up anew the flames of war in the city, which remained
raging between the Moorish inhabitants for
the space of fifty days.
