monarch. He caused a great tower to be erected upon the top of the royal
palace, which stood on the brow of the hill of the Albaycin. The tower was
built of stones brought from Egypt, and taken, it is said, from one of the
pyramids. In the upper part of the tower was a circular hall, with windows
looking towards every point of the compass, and before each window was a
table on which was arranged, as on a chess-board, a mimic army of horse
and foot, with the effigy of the potentate that ruled in that direction,
all carved of wood. To each of these tables there was a small lance, no
bigger than a bodkin, on which were engraved certain Chaldaic characters.
This hall was kept constantly closed, by a gate of brass, with a great
lock of steel, the key of which was in possession of the king.
On the top of the tower was a bronze figure of a Moorish horseman,
fixed on a pivot, with a shield on one arm, and his lance elevated
perpendicularly. The face of this horseman was towards the city, as if
keeping guard over it; but if any foe were at hand, the figure would turn
in that direction, and would level the lance as if for action.
When this talisman was finished, Aben Habuz was all impatient to try its
virtues, and longed as ardently for an invasion as he had ever sighed
after repose. His desire was soon gratified. Tidings were brought, early
one morning, by the sentinel appointed to watch the tower, that the face
of the bronze horseman was turned towards the mountains of Elvira, and
that his lance pointed directly against the Pass of Lope.
"Let the drums and trumpets sound to arms, and all Granada be put on the
alert," said Aben Habuz.
"O king," said the astrologer, "let not your city be disquieted, nor your
warriors called to arms; we need no aid of force to deliver you from your
enemies. Dismiss your attendants, and let us proceed alone to the secret
hall of the tower."
[Illustration: _The Gate of Justice._]
The ancient Aben Habuz mounted the staircase of the tower, leaning on
the arm of the still more ancient Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub. They unlocked the
brazen door and entered. The window that looked towards the Pass of Lope
was open.
"In this direction," said the astrologer, "lies the danger; approach, O
king, and behold the mystery of the table."
King Aben Habuz approached the seeming chessboard, on which were arranged
the small wooden effigies, when, to his surprise, he perceived that
they were all in motion. The horses pranced and curveted, the warriors
brandished their weapons, and there was a faint sound of drums and
trumpets, and the clang of arms, and neighing of steeds; but all no
louder, nor more distinct, than the hum of the bee, or the summer-fly, in
the drowsy ear of him who lies at noontide in the shade.
"Behold, O king," said the astrologer, "a proof that thy enemies are even
now in the field. They must be advancing through yonder mountains, by the
Pass of Lope. Would you produce a panic and confusion amongst them, and
cause them to retreat without loss of life, strike these effigies with
the butt-end of this magic lance; would you cause bloody feud and carnage,
strike with the point."
A livid streak passed across the countenance of Aben Abuz; he seized the
lance with trembling eagerness; his gray beard wagged with exultation
as he tottered toward the table: "Son of Abu Ayub," exclaimed he, in
chuckling tone, "I think we will have a little blood!"
So saying, he thrust the magic lance into some of the pigmy effigies, and
belaboured others with the butt-end, upon which the former fell as dead
upon the board, and the rest turning upon each other, began, pell-mell,
a chance-medley fight.
It was with difficulty the astrologer could stay the hand of the most
pacific of monarchs and prevent him from absolutely exterminating his
foes; at length he prevailed upon him to leave the tower, and to send out
scouts to the mountains by the Pass of Lope.
They returned with the intelligence that a Christian army had advanced
through the heart of the Sierra, almost within sight of Granada, where
a dissension had broken out among them; they had turned their weapons
against each other, and after much slaughter had retreated over the
border.
Aben Habuz was transported with joy on thus proving the efficacy of the
talisman. "At length," said he, "I shall lead a life of tranquillity, and
have all my enemies in my power. O wise son of Abu Ayub, what can I bestow
on thee in reward for such a blessing?"
"The wants of an old man and a philosopher, O king, are few and simple;
grant me but the means of fitting up my cave as a suitable hermitage, and
I am content."
"How noble is the moderation of the truly wise!" exclaimed Aben Habuz,
secretly pleased at the cheapness of the recompense. He summoned his
treasurer, and bade him dispense whatever sums might be required by
Ibrahim to complete and furnish his hermitage.
The astrologer now gave orders to have various chambers hewn out of
the solid rock, so as to form ranges of apartments connected with his
astrological hall; these he caused to be furnished with luxurious ottomans
and divans, and the walls to be hung with the richest silks of Damascus.
"I am an old man," said he, "and can no longer rest my bones on stone
couches, and these damp walls require covering."
He had baths too constructed, and provided with all kinds of perfumes
and aromatic oils. "For a bath," said he, "is necessary to counteract
the rigidity of age, and to restore freshness and suppleness to the frame
withered by study."
He caused the apartments to be hung with innumerable silver and crystal
lamps, which he filled with a fragrant oil prepared according to a receipt
discovered by him in the tombs of Egypt. This oil was perpetual in its
nature, and diffused a soft radiance like the tempered light of day. "The
light of the sun," said he, "is too garish and violent for the eyes of an
old man, and the light of the lamp is more congenial to the studies of a
philosopher."
The treasurer of King Aben Habuz groaned at the sums daily demanded to fit
up this hermitage, and he carried his complaints to the king. The royal
word, however, had been given; Aben Habuz shrugged his shoulders: "We must
have patience," said he; "this old man has taken his idea of a philosophic
retreat from the interior of the pyramids, and of the vast ruins of Egypt;
but all things have an end, and so will the furnishing of his cavern."
The king was in the right; the hermitage was at length complete, and
formed a sumptuous subterranean palace. The astrologer expressed himself
perfectly content, and, shutting himself up, remained for three whole days
buried in study. At the end of that time he appeared again before the
treasurer. "One thing more is necessary," said he, "one trifling solace
for the intervals of mental labour."
"O wise Ibrahim, I am bound to furnish everything necessary for thy
solitude; what more dost thou require?"
"I would fain have a few dancing-women."
"Dancing-women," echoed the treasurer, with surprise.
"Dancing-women," replied the sage gravely; "and let them be young and fair
to look upon; for the sight of youth and beauty is refreshing. A few will
suffice, for I am a philosopher of simple habits and easily satisfied."
While the philosophic Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub passed his time thus sagely
in his hermitage, the pacific Aben Habuz carried on furious campaigns in
effigy in his tower. It was a glorious thing for an old man, like himself,
of quiet habits, to have war made easy, and to be enabled to amuse himself
in his chamber by brushing away whole armies like so many swarms of flies.
For a time he rioted in the indulgence of his humours, and even taunted
and insulted his neighbours, to induce them to make incursions; but by
degrees they grew wary from repeated disasters, until no one ventured
to invade his territories. For many months the bronze horseman remained
on the peace establishment, with his lance elevated in the air; and the
worthy old monarch began to repine at the want of his accustomed sport,
and to grow peevish at his monotonous tranquillity.
At length, one day, the talismanic horseman veered suddenly round, and
lowering his lance, made a dead point towards the mountains of Guadix.
Aben Habuz hastened to his tower, but the magic table in that direction
remained quiet: not a single warrior was in motion. Perplexed at the
circumstance, he sent forth a troop of horse to scour the mountains and
reconnoitre. They returned after three days' absence.
"We have searched every mountain pass," said they, "but not a helm nor
spear was stirring. All that we have found in the course of our foray,
was a Christian damsel of surpassing beauty, sleeping at noontide beside
a fountain, whom we have brought away captive."
"A damsel of surpassing beauty!" exclaimed Aben Habuz, his eyes gleaming
with animation; "let her be conducted into my presence."
The beautiful damsel was accordingly conducted into his presence. She
was arrayed with all the luxury of ornament that had prevailed among the
Gothic Spaniards at the time of the Arabian conquest. Pearls of dazzling
whiteness were entwined with her raven tresses; and jewels sparkled on her
forehead, rivalling the lustre of her eyes. Around her neck was a golden
chain, to which was suspended a silver lyre, which hung by her side.
The flashes of her dark refulgent eye were like sparks of fire on
the withered, yet combustible, heart of Aben Habuz; the swimming
voluptuousness of her gait made his senses reel. "Fairest of women," cried
he, with rapture, "who and what art thou?"
"The daughter of one of the Gothic princes, who but lately ruled over
this land. The armies of my father have been destroyed, as if by magic,
among these mountains; he has been driven into exile, and his daughter is
a captive."
"Beware, O king!" whispered Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub, "this may be one of
those northern sorceresses of whom we have heard, who assume the most
seductive forms to beguile the unwary. Methinks I read witchcraft in her
eye, and sorcery in every movement. Doubtless this is the enemy pointed
out by the talisman."
"Son of Abu Ayub," replied the king, "thou art a wise man, I grant, a
conjuror for aught I know; but thou art little versed in the ways of
woman. In that knowledge will I yield to no man; no, not to the wise
Solomon himself, notwithstanding the number of his wives and concubines.
As to this damsel, I see no harm in her; she is fair to look upon, and
finds favour in my eyes."
"Hearken, O king!" replied the astrologer. "I have given thee many
victories by means of my talisman, but have never shared any of the spoil.
Give me then this stray captive, to solace me in my solitude with her
silver lyre. If she be indeed a sorceress, I have counter spells that set
her charms at defiance."
"What! more women!" cried Aben Habuz. "Hast thou not already dancing-women
enough to solace thee?"
"Dancing-women have I, it is true, but no singing-women. I would fain
have a little minstrelsy to refresh my mind when weary with the toils of
study."
"A truce with thy hermit cravings," said the king, impatiently. "This
damsel have I marked for my own. I see much comfort in her: even such
comfort as David, the father of Solomon the Wise, found in the society of
Abishag the Shunammite."
Further solicitations and remonstrances of the astrologer only provoked
a more peremptory reply from the monarch, and they parted in high
displeasure. The sage shut himself up in his hermitage to brood over
his disappointment; ere he departed, however, he gave the king one more
warning to beware of his dangerous captive. But where is the old man in
love that will listen to counsel? Aben Habuz resigned himself to the full
sway of his passion. His only study was how to render himself amiable in
the eyes of the Gothic beauty. He had not youth to recommend him, it is
true, but then he had riches; and when a lover is old, he is generally
generous. The Zacatin of Granada was ransacked for the most precious
merchandise of the East; silks, jewels, precious gems, exquisite perfumes,
all that Asia and Africa yielded of rich and rare, were lavished upon the
princess. All kinds of spectacles and festivities were devised for her
entertainment; minstrelsy, dancing, tournaments, bull-fights;--Granada
for a time was a scene of perpetual pageant. The Gothic princess regarded
all this splendour with the air of one accustomed to magnificence. She
received everything as a homage due to her rank, or rather to her beauty;
for beauty is more lofty in its exactions even than rank. Nay, she seemed
to take a secret pleasure in exciting the monarch to expenses that made
his treasury shrink, and then treating his extravagant generosity as a
mere matter of course. With all his assiduity and munificence, also, the
venerable lover could not flatter himself that he had made any impression
on her heart. She never frowned on him, it is true, but then she never
smiled. Whenever he began to plead his passion, she struck her silver
lyre. There was a mystic charm in the sound. In an instant the monarch
began to nod; a drowsiness stole over him, and he gradually sank into a
sleep, from which he awoke wonderfully refreshed, but perfectly cooled
for the time of his passion. This was very baffling to his suit; but then
these slumbers were accompanied by agreeable dreams, which completely
enthralled the senses of the drowsy lover; so he continued to dream on,
while all Granada scoffed at his infatuation, and groaned at the treasures
lavished for a song.
At length a danger burst on the head of Aben Habuz, against which his
talisman yielded him no warning. An insurrection broke out in his very
capital; his palace was surrounded by an armed rabble, who menaced his
life and the life of his Christian paramour. A spark of his ancient
warlike spirit was awakened in the breast of the monarch. At the head of
a handful of his guards he sallied forth, put the rebels to flight, and
crushed the insurrection in the bud.
When quiet was again restored, he sought the astrologer, who still
remained shut up in his hermitage, chewing the bitter cud of resentment.
Aben Habuz approached him with a conciliatory tone. "O wise son of Abu
Ayub," said he, "well didst thou predict dangers to me from this captive
beauty: tell me then, thou who art so quick at foreseeing peril, what I
should do to avert it."
"Put from thee the infidel damsel who is the cause."
"Sooner would I part with my kingdom," cried Aben Habuz.
"Thou art in danger of losing both," replied the astrologer.
"Be not harsh and angry, O most profound of philosophers; consider
the double distress of a monarch and a lover, and devise some means
of protecting me from the evils by which I am menaced. I care not for
grandeur, I care not for power, I languish only for repose; would that I
had some quiet retreat where I might take refuge from the world, and all
its cares, and pomps, and troubles, and devote the remainder of my days
to tranquillity and love."
The astrologer regarded him for a moment from under his bushy eyebrows.
"And what wouldst thou give, if I could provide thee such a retreat?"
"Thou shouldst name thy own reward; and whatever it might be, if within
the scope of my power, as my soul liveth, it should be thine."
"Thou hast heard, O king, of the garden of Irem, one of the prodigies of
Arabia the happy."
"I have heard of that garden; it is recorded in the Koran, even in the
chapter entitled 'The Dawn of Day.' I have, moreover, heard marvellous
things related of it by pilgrims who had been to Mecca; but I considered
them wild fables, such as travellers are wont to tell who have visited
remote countries."
"Discredit not, O king, the tales of travellers," rejoined the astrologer,
gravely, "for they contain precious rarities of knowledge brought from the
ends of the earth. As to the palace and garden of Irem, what is generally
told of them is true; I have seen them with mine own eyes;--listen to my
adventure, for it has a bearing upon the object of your request.
"In my younger days, when a mere Arab of the desert, I tended my father's
camels. In traversing the desert of Aden, one of them strayed from the
rest, and was lost. I searched after it for several days, but in vain,
until, wearied and faint, I laid myself down at noontide, and slept under
a palm-tree by the side of a scanty well. When I awoke I found myself at
the gate of a city. I entered, and beheld noble streets, and squares,
and market-places; but all were silent and without an inhabitant. I
wandered on until I came to a sumptuous palace, with a garden adorned with
fountains and fish-ponds, and groves and flowers, and orchards laden with
delicious fruit; but still no one was to be seen. Upon which, appalled at
this loneliness, I hastened to depart; and, after issuing forth at the
gate of the city, I turned to look upon the place, but it was no longer
to be seen: nothing but the silent desert extended before my eyes.
"In the neighbourhood I met with an aged dervise, learned in the
traditions and secrets of the land, and related to him what had befallen
me. 'This,' said he, 'is the far-famed garden of Irem, one of the wonders
of the desert. It only appears at times to some wanderer like thyself,
gladdening him with the sight of towers and palaces and garden-walls
overhung with richly-laden fruit trees, and then vanishes, leaving nothing
but a lonely desert. And this is the story of it. In old times, when
this country was inhabited by the Addites, King Sheddad, the son of Ad,
the great grandson of Noah, founded here a splendid city. When it was
finished, and he saw its grandeur, his heart was puffed up with pride and
arrogance, and he determined to build a royal palace, with gardens which
should rival all related in the Koran of the celestial paradise. But the
curse of heaven fell upon him for his presumption. He and his subjects
were swept from the earth, and his splendid city, and palace, and gardens,
were laid under a perpetual spell, which hides them from human sight,
excepting that they are seen at intervals, by way of keeping his sin in
perpetual remembrance.'
"This story, O king, and the wonders I had seen, ever dwelt in my mind;
and in after years, when I had been in Egypt, and was possessed of the
book of knowledge of Solomon the Wise, I determined to return and revisit
the garden of Irem. I did so, and found it revealed to my instructed
sight. I took possession of the palace of Sheddad, and passed several days
in his mock paradise. The genii who watch over the place were obedient
to my magic power, and revealed to me the spells by which the whole
garden had been, as it were, conjured into existence, and by which it was
rendered invisible. Such a palace and garden, O king, can I make for thee,
even here, on the mountain above thy city. Do I not know all the secret
spells? and am I not in possession of the book of knowledge of Solomon
the Wise?"
"O wise son of Abu Ayub!" exclaimed Aben Habuz, trembling with eagerness,
"thou art a traveller indeed, and hast seen and learned marvellous things!
Contrive me such a paradise, and ask any reward, even to the half of my
kingdom."
"Alas!" replied the other, "thou knowest I am an old man, and a
philosopher, and easily satisfied; all the reward I ask is the first
beast of burden, with its load, which shall enter the magic portal of the
palace."
The monarch gladly agreed to so moderate a stipulation, and the
astrologer began his work. On the summit of the hill, immediately above
his subterranean hermitage, he caused a great gateway or barbican to be
erected, opening through the centre of a strong tower.
There was an outer vestibule or porch, with a lofty arch, and within it
a portal secured by massive gates. On the keystone of the portal the
astrologer, with his own hand, wrought the figure of a huge key; and
on the keystone of the outer arch of the vestibule, which was loftier
than that of the portal, he carved a gigantic hand. These were potent
talismans, over which he repeated many sentences in an unknown tongue.
When this gateway was finished, he shut himself up for two days in
his astrological hall, engaged in secret incantations; on the third he
ascended the hill, and passed the whole day on its summit. At a late hour
of the night he came down, and presented himself before Aben Habuz. "At
length, O king," said he, "my labour is accomplished. On the summit of
the hill stands one of the most delectable palaces that ever the head of
man devised, or the heart of man desired. It contains sumptuous halls and
galleries, delicious gardens, cool fountains, and fragrant baths; in a
word, the whole mountain is converted into a paradise. Like the garden of
Irem, it is protected by a mighty charm, which hides it from the view and
search of mortals, excepting such as possess the secret of its talismans."
"Enough!" cried Aben Habuz, joyfully, "to-morrow morning with the first
light we will ascend and take possession." The happy monarch slept but
little that night. Scarcely had the rays of the sun begun to play about
the snowy summit of the Sierra Nevada, when he mounted his steed, and,
accompanied only by a few chosen attendants, ascended a steep and narrow
road leading up the hill. Beside him, on a white palfrey, rode the Gothic
princess, her whole dress sparkling with jewels, while round her neck
was suspended her silver lyre. The astrologer walked on the other side of
the king, assisting his steps with his hieroglyphic staff, for he never
mounted steed of any kind.
[Illustration: _The Mystic Hand._]
Aben Habuz looked to see the towers of the palace brightening above
him, and the embowered terraces of its gardens stretching along the
heights; but as yet nothing of the kind was to be descried. "That is the
mystery and safeguard of the place," said the astrologer, "nothing can be
discerned until you have passed the spell-bound gateway, and been put in
possession of the place."
As they approach the gateway, the astrologer paused, and pointed out to
the king the mystic hand and key carved upon the portal of the arch.
"These," said he, "are the talismans which guard the entrance to this
paradise. Until yonder hand shall reach down and seize that key, neither
mortal power nor magic artifice can prevail against the lord of this
mountain."
While Aben Habuz was gazing, with open mouth and silent wonder, at these
mystic talismans, the palfrey of the princess proceeded and bore her in
at the portal, to the very centre of the barbican.
"Behold," cried the astrologer, "my promised reward; the first animal with
its burden which should enter the magic gateway."
Aben Habuz smiled at what he considered a pleasantry of the ancient man;
but when he found him to be in earnest, his gray beard trembled with
indignation.
"Son of Abu Ayub," said he, sternly, "what equivocation is this? Thou
knowest the meaning of my promise: the first beast of burden, with
its load, that should enter this portal. Take the strongest mule in my
stables, load it with the most precious things of my treasury, and it is
thine; but dare not raise thy thoughts to her who is the delight of my
heart."
"What need I of wealth?" cried the astrologer, scornfully; "have I not the
book of knowledge of Solomon the Wise, and through it the command of the
secret treasures of the earth? The princess is mine by right; thy royal
word is pledged; I claim her as my own."
The princess looked down haughtily from her palfrey, and a light smile of
scorn curled her rosy lip at this dispute between two gray beards for the
possession of youth and beauty. The wrath of the monarch got the better of
his discretion. "Base son of the desert," cried he, "thou mayst be master
of many arts, but know me for thy master, and presume not to juggle with
thy king."
"My master! my king!" echoed the astrologer,--"the monarch of a mole-hill
to claim sway over him who possesses the talismans of Solomon! Farewell,
Aben Habuz; reign over thy petty kingdom, and revel in thy paradise of
fools; for me I will laugh at thee in my philosophic retirement."
So saying, he seized the bridle of the palfrey, smote the earth with
his staff, and sank with the Gothic princess through the centre of the
barbican. The earth closed over them, and no trace remained of the opening
by which they had descended.