ATTEMPT OF EL ZAGAL TO SURPRISE BOABDIL IN ALMERIA.
During this year of sorrow and disaster to the Moors the younger king,
Boabdil, most truly called the Unfortunate, held a diminished and feeble
court in the maritime city of Almeria. He retained little more than the
name of king, and was supported in even this shadow of royalty by the
countenance and treasures of the Castilian sovereigns. Still he trusted
that in the fluctuation of events the inconstant nation might once more
return to his standard and replace him on the throne of the Alhambra.
His mother, the high-spirited sultana Ayxa la Horra, endeavored to rouse
him from this passive state. “It is a feeble mind,” said she, “that
waits for the turn of fortune’s wheel; the brave mind seizes upon it and
turns it to its purpose. Take the field, and you may drive danger before
you; remain cowering at home, and it besieges you in your dwelling. By
a bold enterprise you may regain your splendid throne in Granada; by
passive forbearance you will forfeit even this miserable throne in
Almeria.”
Boabdil had not the force of soul to follow these courageous counsels,
and in a little time the evils his mother had predicted fell upon him.
Old Muley Abul Hassan was almost extinguished by age and paralysis. He
had nearly lost his sight, and was completely bedridden. His brother,
Abdallah, surnamed El Zagal, or the Valiant, the same who had assisted
in the massacre of the Spanish chivalry among the mountains of Malaga,
was commander-in-chief of the Moorish armies, and gradually took upon
himself most of the cares of sovereignty. Among other things, he was
particularly zealous in espousing his brother’s quarrel with his son,
and he prosecuted it with such vehemence that many affirmed there was
something more than mere fraternal sympathy at the bottom of his zeal.
The disasters and disgraces inflicted on the country by the Christians
during this year had wounded the national feelings of the people of
Almeria, and many felt indignant that Boabdil should remain passive at
such a time, or, rather, should appear to make a common cause with
the enemy. His uncle Abdallah diligently fomented this feeling by his
agents. The same arts were made use of that had been successful in
Granada. Boabdil was secretly but actively denounced by the alfaquis
as an apostate leagued with the Christians against his country and his
early faith; the affections of the populace and soldiery were gradually
alienated from him, and a deep conspiracy concerted for his destruction.
In the month of February, 1485, El Zagal suddenly appeared before
Almeria at the head of a troop of horse. The alfaquis were prepared for
his arrival, and the gates were thrown open to him. He entered with
his band and galloped to the citadel. The alcayde would have made
resistance, but the garrison put him to death and received El Zagal with
acclamations. The latter rushed through the apartments of the Alcazar,
but he sought in vain for Boabdil. He found the sultana Ayxa la Horra
in one of the saloons with Aben Haxig, a younger brother of the monarch,
and several Abencerrages, who rallied round them to protect them. “Where
is the traitor Boabdil?” exclaimed El Zagal.
“I know no traitor more perfidious than thyself,” exclaimed the intrepid
sultana; “and I trust my son is in safety, to take vengeance on thy
treason.”
The rage of El Zagal was without bounds when he learnt that his intended
victim had escaped. In his fury he slew the prince Aben Haxig, and his
followers fell upon and massacred the Abencerrages. As to the proud
sultana, she was borne away prisoner and loaded with revilings as having
upheld her son in his rebellion and fomented a civil war.
The unfortunate Boabdil had been apprised of his danger by a faithful
soldier just in time to make his escape. Throwing himself on one of his
fleetest horses and followed by a handful of adherents, he galloped in
the confusion out of the gates of Almeria. Several of the cavalry of El
Zagal, stationed without the walls, perceived his flight and attempted
to pursue him; their horses were jaded with travel, and he soon left
them far behind. But whither was he to fly? Every fortress and castle
in the kingdom of Granada was closed against him; he knew not whom among
the Moors to trust, for they had been taught to detest him as a traitor
and an apostate. He had no alternative but to seek refuge among the
Christians, his hereditary enemies. With heavy heart he turned his
horse’s head toward Cordova. He had to lurk, like a fugitive, through a
part of his own dominions, nor did he feel himself secure until he
had passed the frontier and beheld the mountain-barrier of his country
towering behind him. Then it was that he became conscious of his
humiliated state--a fugitive from his throne, an outcast from his
nation, a king without a kingdom. He smote his breast in an agony of
grief. “Evil indeed,” exclaimed he, “was the day of my birth, and truly
I was named El Zogoybi, the Unlucky.”
He entered the gates of Cordova with downcast countenance and with
a train of but forty followers. The sovereigns were absent, but the
cavaliers of Andalusia manifested that sympathy in the misfortunes
of the monarch which becomes men of lofty and chivalrous souls. They
received him with great distinction, attended him with the utmost
courtesy, and he was honorably entertained by the civil and military
commanders of that ancient city.
In the mean time, El Zagal put a new alcayde over Almeria to govern
in the name of his brother, and, having strongly garrisoned the place,
repaired to Malaga, where an attack of the Christians was apprehended.
The young monarch being driven out of the land, and the old monarch
blind and bedridden, El Zagal at the head of the armies was virtually
the sovereign of Granada. He was supported by the brave and powerful
families of the Alnayans and Vanegas; the people were pleased with
having a new idol to look up to and a new name to shout forth; and El
Zagal was hailed with acclamations as the main hope of the nation.