CHAPTER XCIV.
Conflagration of the Christian camp.
The ravages of war had as yet spared
a little portion of the vega of Granada.
A green belt of gardens and orchards
still flourished round the city, extending
along the banks of the Xenil and the
Darro. They had been the solace and
delight of the inhabitants in their happier
days, and contributed to their sustenance
in this time of scarcity. Ferdinand determined
to make a final and exterminating
ravage to the very walls of the
city, so that there should not remain a
single green thing for the sustenance of
man or beast. The evening of a hot
July day shone splendidly upon the
Christian camp, which was in a bustle of
preparation for the next day's service;
for desperate resistance was expected
from the Moors. The camp made a
glorious appearance in the setting sun.
The various tents of the royal family
and the attendant nobles were adorned
with rich hangings, having sumptuous
devices, and with costly furniture; forming,
as it were, a little city of silk and
brocade, where the pinnacles of pavilions
of various gay colours, surmounted with
waving standards and fluttering pennons,
might vie with the domes and minarets of
the capital they were besieging.
In the midst of this gaudy metropolis,
the lofty tent of the queen domineered
over the rest like a stately palace. The
Marquis of Cadiz had courteously surrendered
his own tent to the queen. It
was the most complete and splended in
Christendom, and had been carried about
with him throughout the war. In the
centre rose a stately alfaneque, or pavilion,
in oriental taste, the rich hangings
being supported by columns of lances,
ornamented with martial devices. This
centre pavilion, or silken tower, was surrounded
by other compartments, some of
painted linen, lined with silk, and all
separated from each other by curtains.
It was one of those camp palaces, which
are raised and demolished in an instant,
like the city of canvass that surrounds
them.
As the evening advanced, the bustle in
the camp subsided. Every one sought
repose, preparatory to the next day's toil.
The king retired early, that he might be
up with the crowing of the cock, to head
the destroying army in person. All stir
of military preparation was hushed in the
royal quarters; the very sound of minstrelsy
was mute: and not the tinkling of
a guitar was to be heard from the tents of
the fair ladies of the court.
The queen had retired to the innermost
part of her pavilion, where she was performing
her orisons before a private altar.
Perhaps the peril, to which the king might
be exposed in the next day's foray, inspired
her with more than usual devotion.
While thus at her prayers, she was suddenly
aroused by a glare of light, and
wreaths of suffocating smoke. In an
instant, the whole tent was in a blaze:
there was a high gusty wind, which
whirled the light flames from tent to tent,
and speedily wrapped them all in one
conflagration.
Isabella had barely time to save herself
by instant flight. Her first thought, on
being extricated from her tent, was for
the safety of the king. She rushed to his
tent; but the vigilant Ferdinand was already
at the entrance of it. Starting
from bed on the first alarm, and fancying
it an assault of the enemy, he had seized
his sword and buckler, and sallied forth
undressed, with his cuirass upon his arm.
The late gorgeous camp was now a
scene of wild confusion. The flames kept
spreading from one pavilion to another,
glaring upon the rich armour and golden
and silver vessels, which seemed melting
in the fervent heat. Many of the soldiery
had erected booths and bowers of branches,
which being dry, crackled and blazed,
and added to the rapid conflagration.
The ladies of the court fled shrieking and
half-dressed, from their tents. There
was an alarm of drum and trumpet, and
a distracted hurry about the camp, of
men half armed.
The Prince Juan had been snatched
out of bed by an attendant, and conveyed
to the quarters of the Count de Cabra,
which were at the entrance of the camp.
The loyal count immediately summoned
his people, and those of his cousin, Don
Alonso de Montemayor, and formed a
guard round the tent in which the prince
was sheltered.
The idea, that this was a stratagem of
the Moors, soon subsided; but it was
feared, that they might take advantage of
it to commence an assault. The Marquis
of Cadiz, therefore, sallied forth with
three thousand horse, to check an advance
from the city. As they passed along it
was one entire scene of hurry and consternation;
some hastening to their posts
at the call of drum and trumpet, some attempting
to save rich effects and glittering
armour, others dragging along terrified
and restive horses.
When they emerged from the camp,
they found the whole firmament illumined.
The flames whirled up in long light
spires; and the air was filled with sparks
and cinders. A bright glare was thrown
upon the city, revealing every battlement
and tower. Turbaned heads were seen
gazing from every roof, and armour
gleamed along the walls; yet not a single
warrior sallied from the gates. The
Moors suspected some stratagem on the
part of the Christians, and kept quietly
within their walls. By degrees the flames
expired, the city faded from sight, all
again became dark and quiet, and the
Marquis of Cadiz returned with his cavalry
to the camp.
