THE FATE OF THE CASTLE OF ROMA.
About two leagues from Granada, on an eminence commanding an extensive
view of the Vega, stood the strong Moorish castle of Roma. Hither the
neighboring peasantry drove their flocks and herds and hurried with
their most precious effects on the irruption of a Christian force, and
any foraging or skirmishing party from Granada, on being intercepted in
their return, threw themselves into Roma, manned its embattled towers,
and set the enemy at defiance. The garrison were accustomed to have
parties of Moors clattering up to their gates so hotly pursued that
there was barely time to throw open the portal, receive them within, and
shut out their pursuers; while the Christian cavaliers had many a time
reined up their panting steeds at the very entrance of the barbican,
and retired, cursing the strong walls of Roma that robbed them of their
prey.
The late ravages of Ferdinand and the continual skirmishings in the
Vega had roused the vigilance of the castle. One morning early, as the
sentinels kept watch upon the battlements, they beheld a cloud of dust
advancing rapidly from a distance: turbans and Moorish weapons soon
caught their eyes, and as the whole approached they descried a drove
of cattle urged on in great haste and convoyed by one hundred and fifty
Moors, who led with them two Christian captives in chains.
When the cavalgada arrived near the castle, a Moorish cavalier of noble
and commanding mien and splendid attire rode up to the foot of the tower
and entreated admittance. He stated that they were returning with rich
booty from a foray into the lands of the Christians, but that the enemy
was on their traces, and they feared to be overtaken before they could
reach Granada. The sentinels descended in all haste and flung open the
gates. The long cavalgada defiled into the courts of the castle,
which were soon filled with bleating and lowing flocks and herds, with
neighing and stamping steeds, and with fierce-looking Moors from the
mountains. The cavalier who had asked admission was the chief of the
party; he was somewhat advanced in life, of a lofty and gallant bearing,
and had with him a son, a young man of great spirit and fire. Close
by them followed the two Christian captives, with looks cast down and
disconsolate.
The soldiers of the garrison had roused themselves from their sleep, and
were busily occupied attending to the cattle which crowded the courts,
while the foraging party distributed themselves about the castle to
seek refreshment or repose. Suddenly a shout arose that was echoed
from courtyard and hall and battlement. The garrison, astonished and
bewildered, would have rushed to their arms, but found themselves,
almost before they could make resistance, completely in the power of an
enemy.
The pretended foraging party consisted of mudexares, or Moors tributary
to the Christians, and the commanders were the prince Cid Hiaya and his
son Alnayar. They had hastened from the mountains with this small force
to aid the Catholic sovereigns during the summer’s campaign, and had
concerted to surprise this important castle and present it to King
Ferdinand as a gage of their faith and the first fruits of their
devotion.
The politic monarch overwhelmed his new converts and allies with favors
and distinctions in return for this important acquisition, but he took
care to despatch a strong force of veteran and genuine Christian troops
to man the fortress.
As to the Moors who had composed the garrison, Cid Hiaya remembered that
they were his countrymen, and could not prevail upon himself to deliver
them into Christian bondage. He set them at liberty, and permitted
them to repair to Granada--“a proof,” says the pious Agapida, “that his
conversion was not entirely consummated, but that there were still
some lingerings of the infidel in his heart.” His lenity was far from
procuring him indulgence in the opinions of his countrymen; on the
contrary, the inhabitants of Granada, when they learnt from the
liberated garrison the stratagem by which Roma had been captured, cursed
Cid Hiaya for a traitor, and the garrison joined in the malediction.*
* Pulgar, Cron., part 3, cap. 130; Cura de los Palacios, cap. 90.
But the indignation of the people of Granada was destined to be roused
to tenfold violence. The old warrior Muley Abdallah el Zagal had retired
to his little mountain-territory, and for a short time endeavored to
console himself with his petty title of king of Andarax. He soon grew
impatient, however, of the quiet and inaction of his mimic kingdom.
His fierce spirit was exasperated by being shut up within such narrow
limits, and his hatred rose to downright fury against Boabdil, whom he
considered as the cause of his downfall. When tidings were brought
him that King Ferdinand was laying waste the Vega, he took a sudden
resolution. Assembling the whole disposable force of his kingdom, which
amounted but to two hundred men, he descended from the Alpuxarras and
sought the Christian camp, content to serve as a vassal the enemy of his
faith and his nation, so that he might see Granada wrested from the sway
of his nephew.
In his blind passion the old wrathful monarch injured his cause and
strengthened the cause of his adversary. The Moors of Granada had been
clamorous in his praise, extolling him as a victim to his patriotism,
and had refused to believe all reports of his treaty with the
Christians; but when they beheld from the walls of the city his banner
mingling with the banners of the unbelievers and arrayed against his
late people and the capital he had commanded, they broke forth into
revilings and heaped curses upon his name.
Their next emotion, of course, was in favor of Boabdil. They gathered
under the walls of the Alhambra and hailed him as their only hope, as
the sole dependence of the country. Boabdil could scarcely believe his
senses when he heard his name mingled with praises and greeted with
acclamations. Encouraged by this unexpected gleam of popularity, he
ventured forth from his retreat and was received with rapture. All his
past errors were attributed to the hardships of his fortune and the
usurpation of his tyrant uncle, and whatever breath the populace could
spare from uttering curses on El Zagal was expended in shouts in honor
of El Chico.