ATTEMPT OF EL ZAGAL UPON THE LIFE OF BOABDIL, AND HOW THE LATTER WAS
ROUSED TO ACTION.
No sooner did the last squadron of Christian cavalry disappear behind
the mountains of Elvira and the note of its trumpets die away upon the
ear than the long-suppressed wrath of Muley el Zagal burst forth. He
determined no longer to be half a king, reigning over a divided kingdom
in a divided capital, but to exterminate by any means, fair or foul,
his nephew Boabdil and his faction. He turned furiously upon those whose
factious conduct had deterred him from sallying upon the foe: some he
punished by confiscations, others by banishment, others by death. Once
undisputed monarch of the entire kingdom, he trusted to his military
skill to retrieve his fortunes and drive the Christians over the
frontier.
Boabdil, however, had again retired to Velez el Blanco, on the confines
of Murcia, where he could avail himself, in case of emergency, of any
assistance or protection afforded him by the policy of Ferdinand. His
defeat had blighted his reviving fortunes, for the people considered him
as inevitably doomed to misfortune. Still, while he lived El Zagal knew
he would be a rallying-point for faction, and liable at any moment to
be elevated into power by the capricious multitude. He had recourse,
therefore, to the most perfidious means to compass his destruction. He
sent ambassadors to him representing the necessity of concord for the
salvation of the kingdom, and even offering to resign the title of king
and to become subject to his sway on receiving some estate on which he
could live in tranquil retirement. But while the ambassadors bore these
words of peace they were furnished with poisoned herbs, which they were
to administer secretly to Boabdil, and if they failed in this attempt
they had pledged themselves to despatch him openly while engaged in
conversation. They were instigated to this treason by promises of great
reward, and by assurances from the alfaquis that Boabdil was an apostate
whose death would be acceptable to Heaven.
The young monarch was secretly apprised of the concerted treason, and
refused an audience to the ambassadors. He denounced his uncle as the
murderer of his father and his kindred and the usurper of his throne,
and vowed never to relent in hostility to him until he should place his
head on the walls of the Alhambra.
Open war again broke out between the two monarchs, though feebly carried
on in consequence of their mutual embarrassments. Ferdinand again
extended his assistance to Boabdil, ordering the commanders of his
fortresses to aid him in all enterprises against his uncle, and against
such places as refused to acknowledge him as king; and Don Juan de
Bonavides, who commanded in Lorca, even made inroads in his name into
the territories of Almeria, Baza, and Guadix, which owned allegiance to
El Zagal.
The unfortunate Boabdil had three great evils to contend with--the
inconstancy of his subjects, the hostility of his uncle, and the
friendship of Ferdinand. The last was by far the most baneful: his
fortunes withered under it. He was looked upon as the enemy of his faith
and of his country. The cities shut their gates against him; the people
cursed him; even the scanty band of cavaliers who had hitherto followed
his ill-starred banner began to desert him, for he had not wherewithal
to reward nor even to support them. His spirits sank with his fortune,
and he feared that in a little time he should not have a spot of earth
whereon to plant his standard nor an adherent to rally under it.
In the midst of his despondency he received a message from his
lion-hearted mother, the sultana Ayxa la Horra. It was brought by the
steadfast adherent to their fortunes, Aben Comixa. “For shame,” said
she, “to linger timorously about the borders of your kingdom when a
usurper is seated in your capital! Why look abroad for perfidious aid
when you have loyal hearts beating true to you in Granada? The
Albaycin is ready to throw open its gates to receive you. Strike home
vigorously--a sudden blow may mend all or make an end. A throne or a
grave!--for a king there is no honorable medium.”
Boabdil was of an undecided character, but there are circumstances which
bring the most wavering to a decision, and when once resolved they are
apt to act with a daring impulse unknown to steadier judgments. The
message of the sultana roused him from a dream. Granada, beautiful
Granada, with its stately Alhambra, its delicious gardens, its gushing
and limpid fountains sparkling among groves of orange, citron, and
myrtle, rose before him. “What have I done,” exclaimed he, “that I
should be an exile from this paradise of my forefathers--a wanderer and
fugitive in my own kingdom, while a murderous usurper sits proudly upon
my throne? Surely Allah will befriend the righteous cause; one blow, and
all may be my own.”
He summoned his scanty band of cavaliers. “Who is ready to follow his
monarch unto the death?” said he; and every one laid his hand upon his
scimetar. “Enough!” said he; “let each man arm himself and prepare his
steed in secret for an enterprise of toil and peril; if we succeed, our
reward is empire.”