had a fair opportunity of reconnoitring him. To my surprise he was
dressed in a Moorish garb, with a cuirass of steel, and a polished
skull-cap that I distinguished by the reflection of the stars upon it.
His horse, too, was harnessed in the Morisco fashion, with great shovel
stirrups. He led him, as I said, to the side of the stream, into which
the animal plunged his head almost to the eyes, and drank until I
thought he would have burst.
“‘Comrade,’ said I, ‘your steed drinks well; it’s a good sign when a
horse plunges his muzzle bravely into the water.’
“‘He may well drink,’ said the stranger, speaking with a Moorish
accent; ‘it is a good year since he had his last draught.’
“‘By Santiago,’ said I, ‘that beats even the camels I have seen in
Africa. But come, you seem to be something of a soldier, will you sit
down and take part of a soldier’s fare?’ In fact, I felt the want of a
companion in this lonely place, and was willing to put up with an
infidel. Besides, as your Excellency well knows, a soldier is never very
particular about the faith of his company, and soldiers of all countries
are comrades on peaceable ground.”
The governor again nodded assent.
“Well, as I was saying, I invited him to share my supper, such as it
was, for I could not do less in common hospitality. ‘I have no time to
pause for meat or drink,’ said he, ‘I have a long journey to make before
morning.’
“‘In what direction?’ said I.
“‘Andalusia,’ said he.
“‘Exactly my route,’ said I; ‘so, as you won’t stop and eat with me,
perhaps you will let me mount and ride with you. I see your horse is of
a powerful frame; I’ll warrant he’ll carry double.’
“‘Agreed,’ said the trooper; and it would not have been civil and
soldierlike to refuse, especially as I had offered to share my supper
with him. So up he mounted, and up I mounted behind him.
“‘Hold fast,’ said he, ‘my steed goes like the wind.’
“‘Never fear me,’ said I, and so off we set.
“From a walk the horse soon passed to a trot, from a trot to a gallop,
and from a gallop to a harum-scarum scamper. It seemed as if rocks,
trees, houses, everything flew hurry-scurry behind us.
“‘What town is this?’ said I.
“‘Segovia,’ said he; and before the word was out of his mouth, the
towers of Segovia were out of sight. We swept up the Guadarrama
mountains, and down by the Escurial; and we skirted the walls of
Madrid, and we scoured away across the plains of La Mancha. In this way
we went up hill and down dale, by towers and cities, all buried in deep
sleep, and across mountains, and plains, and rivers, just glimmering in
the starlight.
“To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your Excellency, the
trooper suddenly pulled up on the side of a mountain. ‘Here we are,’
said he, ‘at the end of our journey.’ I looked about, but could see no
signs of habitation, nothing but the mouth of a cavern. While I looked I
saw multitudes of people in Moorish dresses, some on horseback, some on
foot, arriving as if borne by the wind from all points of the compass,
and hurrying into the mouth of the cavern like bees into a hive. Before
I could ask a question, the trooper struck his long Moorish spurs into
the horse’s flanks, and dashed in with the throng. We passed along a
steep winding way, that descended into the very bowels of the mountain.
As we pushed on, a light began to glimmer up, by little and little, like
the first glimmerings of day, but what caused it I could not discern. It
grew stronger and stronger, and enabled me to see everything around. I
now noticed, as we passed along, great caverns, opening to the right and
left, like halls in an arsenal. In some there were shields, and helmets,
and cuirasses, and lances, and cimeters, hanging against the walls; in
others there were great heaps of warlike munitions and camp-equipage
lying upon the ground.
“It would have done your Excellency’s heart good, being an old soldier,
to have seen such grand provision for war. Then, in other caverns, there
were long rows of horsemen armed to the teeth, with lances raised and
banners unfurled, all ready for the field; but they all sat motionless
in their saddles, like so many statues. In other halls were warriors
sleeping on the ground beside their horses, and foot-soldiers in groups
ready to fall into the ranks. All were in old-fashioned Moorish dresses
and armor.
“Well, your Excellency, to cut a long story short, we at length entered
an immense cavern, or I may say palace, of grotto-work, the walls of
which seemed to be veined with gold and silver, and to sparkle with
diamonds and sapphires and all kinds of precious stones. At the upper
end sat a Moorish king on a golden throne, with his nobles on each side,
and a guard of African blacks with drawn cimeters. All the crowd that
continued to flock in, and amounted to thousands and thousands, passed
one by one before his throne, each paying homage as he passed. Some of
the multitude were dressed in magnificent robes, without stain or
blemish, and sparkling with jewels; others in burnished and enamelled
armor; while others were in mouldered and mildewed garments, and in
armor all battered and dented and covered with rust.
“I had hitherto held my tongue, for your Excellency well knows it is not
for a soldier to ask many questions when on duty, but I could keep
silent no longer.
“‘Prithee, comrade,’ said I, ‘what is the meaning of all this?’
“‘This,’ said the trooper, ‘is a great and fearful mystery. Know, O
Christian, that you see before you the court and army of Boabdil the
last king of Granada.’
“‘What is this you tell me?’ cried I, ‘Boabdil and his court were exiled
from the land hundreds of years agone, and all died in Africa.’
“‘So it is recorded in your lying chronicles,’ replied the Moor; ‘but
know that Boabdil and the warriors who made the last struggle for
Granada were all shut up in the mountain by powerful enchantment. As
for the king and army that marched forth from Granada at the time of the
surrender, they were a mere phantom train of spirits and demons,
permitted to assume those shapes to deceive the Christian sovereigns.
And furthermore let me tell you, friend, that all Spain is a country
under the power of enchantment. There is not a mountain cave, not a
lonely watch-tower in the plains, nor ruined castle on the hills, but
has some spell-bound warriors sleeping from age to age within its
vaults, until the sins are expiated for which Allah permitted the
dominion to pass for a time out of the hands of the faithful. Once every
year, on the eve of St. John, they are released from enchantment, from
sunset to sunrise, and permitted to repair here to pay homage to their
sovereign! and the crowds which you beheld swarming into the cavern are
Moslem warriors from their haunts in all parts of Spain. For my own
part, you saw the ruined tower of the bridge in Old Castile, where I
have now wintered and summered for many hundred years, and where I must
be back again by daybreak. As to the battalions of horse and foot which
you beheld drawn up in array in the neighboring caverns, they are the
spell-bound warriors of Granada. It is written in the book of fate, that
when the enchantment is broken, Boabdil will descend from the mountain
at the head of this army, resume his throne in the Alhambra and his sway
of Granada, and gathering together the enchanted warriors from all parts
of Spain, will reconquer the Peninsula and restore it to Moslem rule.’
“‘And when shall this happen?’ said I.
“‘Allah alone knows: we had hoped the day of deliverance was at hand;
but there reigns at present a vigilant governor in the Alhambra, a
stanch old soldier, well known as Governor Manco. While such a warrior
holds command of the very outpost, and stands ready to check the first
irruption from the mountain, I fear Boabdil and his soldiery must be
content to rest upon their arms.”
Here the governor raised himself somewhat perpendicularly, adjusted his
sword, and twirled up his moustaches.
“To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your Excellency, the
trooper, having given me this account, dismounted from his steed.
“‘Tarry here,’ said he, ‘and guard my steed while I go and bow the knee
to Boabdil.’ So saying, he strode away among the throng that pressed
forward to the throne.
“‘What’s to be done?’ thought I, when thus left to myself; ‘shall I wait
here until this infidel returns to whisk me off on his goblin steed, the
Lord knows where; or shall I make the most of my time and beat a retreat
from this hobgoblin community?’ A soldier’s mind is soon made up, as
your Excellency well knows. As to the horse, he belonged to an avowed
enemy of the faith and the realm, and was a fair prize according to the
rules of war. So hoisting myself from the crupper into the saddle, I
turned the reins, struck the Moorish stirrups into the sides of the
steed, and put him to make the best of his way out of the passage by
which he had entered. As we scoured by the halls where the Moslem
horsemen sat in motionless battalions, I thought I heard the clang of
armor and a hollow murmur of voices. I gave the steed another taste of
the stirrups and doubled my speed. There was now a sound behind me like
a rushing blast; I heard the clatter of a thousand hoofs; a countless
throng overtook me. I was borne along in the press, and hurled forth
from the mouth of the cavern, while thousands of shadowy forms were
swept off in every direction by the four winds of heaven.
“In the whirl and confusion of the scene I was thrown senseless to the
earth. When I came to myself, I was lying on the brow of a hill, with
the Arabian steed standing beside me; for in falling, my arm had slipped
within the bridle, which, I presume, prevented his whisking off to Old
Castile.
“Your Excellency may easily judge of my surprise, on looking round, to
behold hedges of aloes and Indian figs and other proofs of a southern
climate, and to see a great city below me, with towers, and palaces, and
a grand cathedral.
“I descended the hill cautiously, leading my steed, for I was afraid to
mount him again, lest he should play me some slippery trick. As I
descended I met with your patrol, who let me into the secret that it was
Granada that lay before me, and that I was actually under the walls of
the Alhambra, the fortress of the redoubted Governor Manco, the terror
of all enchanted Moslems. When I heard this, I determined at once to
seek your Excellency, to inform you of all that I had seen, and to warn
you of the perils that surround and undermine you, that you may take
measures in time to guard your fortress, and the kingdom itself, from
this intestine army that lurks in the very bowels of the land.”
“And prithee, friend, you who are a veteran campaigner, and have seen so
much service,” said the governor, “how would you advise me to proceed,
in order to prevent this evil?”
“It is not for a humble private of the ranks,” said the soldier,
modestly, “to pretend to instruct a commander of your Excellency’s
sagacity, but it appears to me that your Excellency might cause all the
caves and entrances into the mountains to be walled up with solid
mason-work, so that Boabdil and his army might be completely corked up
in their subterranean habitation. If the good father, too,” added the
soldier, reverently bowing to the friar, and devoutly crossing himself,
“would consecrate the barricadoes with his blessing, and put up a few
crosses and relics and images of saints, I think they might withstand
all the power of infidel enchantments.”
“They doubtless would be of great avail,” said the friar.
The governor now placed his arm akimbo, with his hand resting on the
hilt of his toledo, fixed his eye upon the soldier, and gently wagging
his head from one side to the other,--
“So, friend,” said he, “then you really suppose I am to be gulled with
this cock-and-bull story about enchanted mountains and enchanted Moors?
Hark ye, culprit!--not another word. An old soldier you may be, but
you’ll find you have an older soldier to deal with, and one not easily
outgeneralled. Ho! guards there! put this fellow in irons.”
The demure handmaid would have put in a word in favor of the prisoner,
but the governor silenced her with a look.
As they were pinioning the soldier, one of the guards felt something of
bulk in his pocket, and drawing it forth, found a long leathern purse
that appeared to be well filled. Holding it by one corner, he turned out
the contents upon the table before the governor, and never did
freebooter’s bag make more gorgeous delivery. Out tumbled rings, and
jewels, and rosaries of pearls, and sparkling diamond crosses, and a
profusion of ancient golden coin, some of which fell jingling to the
floor, and rolled away to the uttermost parts of the chamber.
For a time the functions of justice were suspended; there was a
universal scramble after the glittering fugitives. The governor alone,
who was imbued with true Spanish pride, maintained his stately decorum,
though his eye betrayed a little anxiety until the last coin and jewel
was restored to the sack.
The friar was not so calm; his whole face glowed like a furnace, and
his eyes twinkled and flashed at sight of the rosaries and crosses.
“Sacrilegious wretch that thou art!” exclaimed he; “what church or
sanctuary hast thou been plundering of these sacred relics?”
“Neither one nor the other, holy father. If they be sacrilegious spoils,
they must have been taken, in times long past, by the infidel trooper I
have mentioned. I was just going to tell his Excellency when he
interrupted me, that, on taking possession of the trooper’s horse, I
unhooked a leathern sack which hung at the saddle-bow, and which I
presume contained the plunder of his campaignings in days of old, when
the Moors overran the country.”
“Mighty well; at present you will make up your mind to take up your
quarters in a chamber of the Vermilion Tower, which, though not under a
magic spell, will hold you as safe as any cave of your enchanted Moors.”
“Your Excellency will do as you think proper,” said the prisoner,
coolly. “I shall be thankful to your Excellency for any accommodation in
the fortress. A soldier who has been in the wars, as your Excellency
well knows, is not particular about his lodgings. Provided I have a snug
dungeon and regular rations, I shall manage to make myself comfortable.
I would only entreat that while your Excellency is so careful about me,
you would have an eye to your fortress, and think on the hint I dropped
about stopping up the entrances to the mountain.”
Here ended the scene. The prisoner was conducted to a strong dungeon in
the Vermilion Tower, the Arabian steed was led to his Excellency’s
stable, and the trooper’s sack was deposited in his Excellency’s strong
box. To the latter, it is true, the friar made some demur, questioning
whether the sacred relics, which were evidently sacrilegious spoils,
should not be placed in custody of the church; but as the governor was
peremptory on the subject, and was absolute lord in the Alhambra, the
friar discreetly dropped the discussion, but determined to convey
intelligence of the fact to the church dignitaries in Granada.
To explain these prompt and rigid measures on the part of old Governor
Manco, it is proper to observe, that about this time the Alpuxarra
mountains in the neighborhood of Granada were terribly infested by a
gang of robbers, under the command of a daring chief named Manuel
Borasco, who were accustomed to prowl about the country, and even to
enter the city in various disguises, to gain intelligence of the
departure of convoys of merchandise, or travellers with well-lined
purses, whom they took care to waylay in distant and solitary passes of
the road. These repeated and daring outrages had awakened the attention
of government, and the commanders of the various posts had received
instructions to be on the alert, and to take up all suspicious
stragglers. Governor Manco was particularly zealous in consequence of
the various stigmas that had been cast upon his fortress, and he now
doubted not he had entrapped some formidable desperado of this gang.
In the mean time the story took wind, and became the talk, not merely of
the fortress, but of the whole city of Granada. It was said that the
noted robber Manuel Borasco, the terror of the Alpuxarras, had fallen
into the clutches of old Governor Manco, and been cooped up by him in a
dungeon of the Vermilion Towers; and every one who had been robbed by
him flocked to recognize the marauder. The Vermilion Towers, as is well
known, stand apart from the Alhambra on a sister hill, separated from
the main fortress by the ravine down which passes the main avenue. There
were no outer walls, but a sentinel patrolled before the tower. The
window of the chamber in which the soldier was confined was strongly
grated, and looked upon a small esplanade. Here the good folks of
Granada repaired to gaze at him, as they would at a laughing hyena,
grinning through the cage of a menagerie. Nobody, however, recognized
him for Manuel Borasco, for that terrible robber was noted for a
ferocious physiognomy, and had by no means the good-humored squint of
the prisoner. Visitors came not merely from the city, but from all parts
of the country; but nobody knew him, and there began to be doubts in the
minds of the common people whether there might not be some truth in his
story. That Boabdil and his army were shut up in the mountain, was an
old tradition which many of the ancient inhabitants had heard from their
fathers. Numbers went up to the Mountain of the Sun, or rather of St.
Elena, in search of the cave mentioned by the soldier; and saw and
peeped into the deep dark pit, descending, no one knows how far, into
the mountain, and which remains there to this day--the fabled entrance
to the subterranean abode of Boabdil.
By degrees the soldier became popular with the common people. A
freebooter of the mountains is by no means the opprobrious character in
Spain that a robber is in any other country: on the contrary, he is a
kind of chivalrous personage in the eyes of the lower classes. There is
always a disposition, also, to cavil at the conduct of those in command;
and many began to murmur at the high-handed measures of old Governor
Manco, and to look upon the prisoner in the light of a martyr.
The soldier, moreover, was a merry, waggish fellow, that had a joke for
every one who came near his window, and a soft speech for every female.
He had procured an old guitar also, and would sit by his window and sing
ballads and love-ditties to the delight of the women of the
neighborhood, who would assemble on the esplanade in the evening and
dance boleros to his music. Having trimmed off his rough beard, his
sunburnt face found favor in the eyes of the fair, and the demure
handmaid of the governor declared that his squint was perfectly
irresistible. This kind-hearted damsel had from the first evinced a deep
sympathy in his fortunes, and having in vain tried to mollify the
governor, had set to work privately to mitigate the rigor of his
dispensations. Every day she brought the prisoner some crumbs of comfort
which had fallen from the governor’s table, or been abstracted from his
larder, together with, now and then, a consoling bottle of choice Val de
Peñas, or rich Malaga.
While this petty treason was going on in the very centre of the old
governor’s citadel, a storm of open war was brewing up among his
external foes. The circumstance of a bag of gold and jewels having been
found upon the person of the supposed robber, had been reported, with
many exaggerations, in Granada. A question of territorial jurisdiction
was immediately started by the governor’s inveterate rival, the
captain-general. He insisted that the prisoner had been captured without
the precincts of the Alhambra, and within the rules of his authority. He
demanded his body therefore, and the _spolia opima_ taken with him. Due
information having been carried likewise by the friar to the grand
inquisitor of the crosses and rosaries, and other relics contained in
the bag, he claimed the culprit as having been guilty of sacrilege, and
insisted that his plunder was due to the church, and his body to the
next _auto-da-fe_. The feuds ran high; the governor was furious, and
swore, rather than surrender his captive, he would hang him up within
the Alhambra, as a spy caught within the purlieus of the fortress.
The captain-general threatened to send a body of soldiers to transfer
the prisoner from the Vermilion Tower to the city. The grand inquisitor
was equally bent upon dispatching a number of the familiars of the Holy
Office. Word was brought late at night to the governor of these
machinations. “Let them come,” said he, “they’ll find me beforehand with
them; he must rise bright and early who would take in an old soldier.”
He accordingly issued orders to have the prisoner removed at daybreak,
to the donjon-keep within the walls of the Alhambra. “And d’ye hear,
child,” said he to his demure handmaid, “tap at my door, and wake me
before cock-crowing, that I may see to the matter myself.”
The day dawned, the cock crowed, but nobody tapped at the door of the
governor. The sun rose high above the mountain-tops, and glittered in at
his casement, ere the governor was awakened from his morning dreams by
his veteran corporal, who stood before him with terror stamped upon his
iron visage.
“He’s off! he’s gone!” cried the corporal, gasping for breath.
“Who’s off--who’s gone?”
“The soldier--the robber--the devil, for aught I know; his dungeon is
empty, but the door locked: no one knows how he has escaped out of it.”
“Who saw him last?”
“Your handmaid; she brought him his supper.”
“Let her be called instantly.”
Here was new matter of confusion. The chamber of the demure damsel was
likewise empty, her bed had not been slept in: she had doubtless gone
off with the culprit, as she had appeared, for some days past, to have
frequent conversations with him.
This was wounding the old governor in a tender part, but he had scarce
time to wince at it, when new misfortunes broke upon his view. On going
into his cabinet he found his strong box open, the leather purse of the
trooper abstracted and with it a couple of corpulent bags of doubloons.
But how, and which way had the fugitives escaped? An old peasant who
lived in a cottage by the road-side leading up into the Sierra, declared
that he had heard the tramp of a powerful steed just before daybreak,
passing up into the mountains. He had looked out at his casement, and
could just distinguish a horseman, with a female seated before him.
“Search the stables!” cried Governor Manco. The stables were searched;
all the horses were in their stalls, excepting the Arabian steed. In his
place was a stout cudgel, tied to the manger, and on it a label bearing
these words, “A gift to Governor Manco, from an Old Soldier.”
A FÊTE IN THE ALHAMBRA
The Saint’s day of my neighbor and rival potentate, the count, took
place during his sojourn in the Alhambra, on which occasion he gave a
domestic fête; assembling round him the members of his family and
household, while the stewards and old servants from his distant
possessions came to pay him reverence and partake of the good cheer
which was sure to be provided. It presented a type, though doubtless a
faint one, of the establishment of a Spanish noble in the olden time.
The Spaniards were always grandiose in their notions of style. Huge
palaces; lumbering equipages, laden with footmen and lackeys; pompous
retinues, and useless dependents of all kinds; the dignity of a noble
seemed commensurate with the legions who loitered about his halls, fed
at his expense, and seemed ready to devour him alive. This, doubtless,
originated in the necessity of keeping up hosts of armed retainers
during the wars with the Moors; wars of inroads and surprises; when a
noble was liable to be suddenly assailed in his castle by a foray of the
enemy, or summoned to the field by his sovereign.