The corporal wheeled round and drew himself up in battle array. "Respect
the flag of the Alhambra," said he; "these things are for the governor."
"A _figo_ for the governor and a _figo_ for his flag. Muleteer, halt, I
say."
"Stop the convoy at your peril!" cried the corporal, cocking his musket.
"Muleteer, proceed."
The muleteer gave his beast a hearty thwack; the custom-house officer
sprang forward and seized the halter; whereupon the corporal levelled his
piece and shot him dead.
The street was immediately in an uproar.
The old corporal was seized, and after undergoing sundry kicks, and cuffs,
and cudgellings, which are generally given impromptu by the mob in Spain
as a foretaste of the after penalties of the law, he was loaded with irons
and conducted to the city prison, while his comrades were permitted to
proceed with the convoy, after it had been well rummaged, to the Alhambra.
The old governor was in a towering passion when he heard of this insult
to his flag and capture of his corporal. For a time he stormed about the
Moorish halls, and vapoured about the bastions, and looked down fire and
sword upon the palace of the captain-general. Having vented the first
ebullition of his wrath, he despatched a message demanding the surrender
of the corporal, as to him alone belonged the right of sitting in judgment
on the offences of those under his command. The captain-general, aided by
the pen of the delighted _escribano_, replied at great length, arguing,
that, as the offence had been committed within the walls of his city,
and against one of his civil officers, it was clearly within his proper
jurisdiction. The governor rejoined by a repetition of his demand; the
captain-general gave a sur-rejoinder of still greater length and legal
acumen; the governor became hotter and more peremptory in his demands, and
the captain-general cooler and more copious in his replies; until the old
lion-hearted soldier absolutely roared with fury at being thus entangled
in the meshes of legal controversy.
While the subtle _escribano_ was thus amusing himself at the expense of
the governor, he was conducting the trial of the corporal, who, mewed up
in a narrow dungeon of the prison, had merely a small grated window at
which to show his iron-bound visage and receive the consolations of his
friends.
A mountain of written testimony was diligently heaped up, according
to Spanish form, by the indefatigable _escribano_; the corporal was
completely overwhelmed by it. He was convicted of murder, and sentenced
to be hanged.
It was in vain the governor sent down remonstrance and menace from
the Alhambra. The fatal day was at hand, and the corporal was put _in
capilla_, that is to say, in the chapel of the prison, as is always done
with culprits the day before execution, that they may meditate on their
approaching end and repent them of their sins.
Seeing things drawing to extremity, the old governor determined to attend
to the affair in person. For this purpose he ordered out his carriage
of state, and, surrounded by his guards, rumbled down the avenue of
the Alhambra into the city. Driving to the house of the _escribano_, he
summoned him to the portal.
The eye of the old governor gleamed like a coal at beholding the smirking
man of the law advancing with an air of exultation.
"What is this I hear," cried he, "that you are about to put to death one
of my soldiers?"
"All according to law--all in strict form of justice," said the
self-sufficient _escribano_, chuckling and rubbing his hands; "I can show
your Excellency the written testimony in the case."
"Fetch it hither," said the governor. The _escribano_ bustled into his
office, delighted with having another opportunity of displaying his
ingenuity at the expense of the hard-headed veteran. He returned with
a satchel full of papers, and began to read a long deposition with
professional volubility. By this time a crowd had collected, listening
with outstretched necks and gaping mouths.
"Prithee, man, get into the carriage, out of this pestilent throng, that
I may the better hear thee," said the governor.
The _escribano_ entered the carriage, when, in a twinkling, the door was
closed, the coachman smacked his whip,--mules, carriage, guards, and all
dashed off at a thundering rate, leaving the crowd in gaping wonderment;
nor did the governor pause until he had lodged his prey in one of the
strongest dungeons of the Alhambra.
He then sent down a flag of truce in military style, proposing a cartel,
or exchange of prisoners,--the corporal for the notary. The pride of
the captain-general was piqued; he returned a contemptuous refusal, and
forthwith caused a gallows, tall and strong, to be erected in the centre
of the Plaza Nueva for the execution of the corporal.
[Illustration]
"Oho! is that the game?" said Governor Manco. He gave orders, and
immediately a gibbet was reared on the verge of the great beetling
bastion that overlooked the Plaza. "Now," said he, in a message to the
captain-general, "hang my soldier when you please; but at the same time
that he is swung off in the square, look up to see your _escribano_
dangling against the sky."
The captain-general was inflexible; troops were paraded in the square;
the drums beat, the bell tolled. An immense multitude of amateurs gathered
together to behold the execution. On the other hand, the governor paraded
his garrison on the bastion, and tolled the funeral dirge of the notary
from the _Torre de la Campana_, or Tower of the Bell.
The notary's wife pressed through the crowd, with a whole progeny of
little embryo _escribanos_ at her heels, and throwing herself at the feet
of the captain-general, implored him not to sacrifice the life of her
husband, and the welfare of herself and her numerous little ones, to a
point of pride; "for you know the old governor too well," said she, "to
doubt that he will put his threat in execution, if you hang the soldier."
The captain-general was overpowered by her tears and lamentations, and the
clamours of her callow brood. The corporal was sent up to the Alhambra,
under a guard, in his gallows garb, like a hooded friar, but with head
erect and a face of iron. The _escribano_ was demanded in exchange,
according to the cartel. The once bustling and self-sufficient man of
the law was drawn forth from his dungeon more dead than alive. All his
flippancy and conceit had evaporated; his hair, it is said, had nearly
turned gray with affright, and he had a downcast, dogged look, as if he
still felt the halter round his neck.
The old governor stuck his one arm akimbo, and for a moment surveyed him
with an iron smile. "Henceforth, my friend," said he, "moderate your zeal
in hurrying others to the gallows; be not too certain of your safety, even
though you should have the law on your side; and above all, take care how
you play off your schoolcraft another time upon an old soldier."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
GOVERNOR MANCO AND THE SOLDIER
While Governor Manco, or "the one-armed," kept up a show of military state
in the Alhambra, he became nettled at the reproaches continually cast upon
his fortress, of being a nestling-place of rogues and _contrabandistas_.
On a sudden, the old potentate determined on reform, and setting
vigorously to work, ejected whole nests of vagabonds out of the fortress
and the gipsy caves with which the surrounding hills are honeycombed. He
sent out soldiers, also, to patrol the avenues and footpaths, with orders
to take up all suspicious persons.
One bright summer morning a patrol, consisting of the testy old corporal
who had distinguished himself in the affair of the notary, a trumpeter,
and two privates, was seated under the garden-wall of the Generalife,
beside the road which leads down from the Mountain of the Sun, when they
heard the tramp of a horse, and a male voice singing in rough, though not
unmusical tones, an old Castilian campaigning-song.
Presently they beheld a sturdy, sunburnt fellow, clad in the ragged garb
of a foot-soldier, leading a powerful Arabian horse caparisoned in the
ancient Morisco fashion.
Astonished at the sight of a strange soldier descending, steed in hand,
from that solitary mountain, the corporal stepped forth and challenged
him.
"Who goes there?"
"A friend."
"Who and what are you?"
"A poor soldier just from the wars, with a cracked crown and empty purse
for a reward."
By this time they were enabled to view him more narrowly. He had a black
patch across his forehead, which, with a grizzled beard, added to a
certain dare-devil cast of countenance, while a slight squint threw into
the whole an occasional gleam of roguish good-humour.
Having answered the questions of the patrol, the soldier seemed to
consider himself entitled to make others in return. "May I ask," said he,
"what city is that which I see at the foot of the hill?"
"What city!" cried the trumpeter; "come, that's too bad. Here's a fellow
lurking about the Mountain of the Sun, and demands the name of the great
city of Granada!"
"Granada! _Madre di Dios!_ can it be possible?"
"Perhaps not!" rejoined the trumpeter; "and perhaps you have no idea that
yonder are the towers of the Alhambra."
"Son of a trumpet," replied the stranger, "do not trifle with me; if
this be indeed the Alhambra, I have some strange matters to reveal to the
governor."
"You will have an opportunity," said the corporal, "for we mean to take
you before him." By this time the trumpeter had seized the bridle of
the steed, the two privates had each secured an arm of the soldier, the
corporal put himself in front, gave the word, "Forward--march!" and away
they marched for the Alhambra.
The sight of a ragged foot-soldier and a fine Arabian horse, brought
in captive by the patrol, attracted the attention of all the idlers of
the fortress, and of those gossip groups that generally assemble about
wells and fountains at early dawn. The wheel of the cistern paused in its
rotations, and the slip-shod servant-maid stood gaping, with pitcher in
hand, as the corporal passed by with his prize. A motley train gradually
gathered in the rear of the escort.
Knowing nods and winks and conjectures passed from one to another.
"It is a deserter," said one; "A _contrabandista_," said another; "A
_bandolero_," said a third;--until it was affirmed that a captain of a
desperate band of robbers had been captured by the prowess of the corporal
and his patrol. "Well, well," said the old crones, one to another,
"captain or not, let him get out of the grasp of old Governor Manco if he
can, though he is but one-handed."
Governor Manco was seated in one of the inner halls of the Alhambra,
taking his morning's cup of chocolate in company with his confessor,--a
fat Franciscan friar from the neighbouring convent. A demure, dark-eyed
damsel of Malaga, the daughter of his housekeeper, was attending upon
him. The world hinted that the damsel, who, with all her demureness was
a sly buxom baggage, had found out a soft spot in the iron heart of the
old governor, and held complete control over him. But let that pass--the
domestic affairs of these mighty potentates of the earth should not be
too narrowly scrutinised.
When word was brought that a suspicious stranger had been taken lurking
about the fortress, and was actually in the outer court, in durance of
the corporal, waiting the pleasure of his Excellency, the pride and
stateliness of office swelled the bosom of the governor. Giving back
his chocolate-cup into the hands of the demure damsel, he called for his
basket-hilted sword, girded it to his side, twirled up his moustaches,
took his seat in a large high-backed chair, assumed a bitter and
forbidding aspect, and ordered the prisoner into his presence. The soldier
was brought in, still closely pinioned by his captors, and guarded by
the corporal. He maintained, however, a resolute self-confident air, and
returned the sharp, scrutinising look of the governor with an easy squint,
which by no means pleased the punctilious old potentate.
"Well, culprit," said the governor, after he had regarded him for a moment
in silence, "what have you to say for yourself--who are you?"
"A soldier, just from the wars, who has brought away nothing but scars
and bruises."
"A soldier--humph--a foot-soldier by your garb. I understand you have a
fine Arabian horse. I presume you brought him too from the wars, besides
your scars and bruises."
"May it please your Excellency, I have something strange to tell about
that horse. Indeed I have one of the most wonderful things to relate.
Something too that concerns the security of this fortress, indeed of all
Granada. But it is a matter to be imparted only to your private ear, or
in presence of such only as are in your confidence."
The governor considered for a moment, and then directed the corporal and
his men to withdraw, but to post themselves outside of the door, and be
ready at a call. "This holy friar," said he, "is my confessor, you may say
anything in his presence;--and this damsel," nodding towards the handmaid,
who had loitered with an air of great curiosity, "this damsel is of great
secrecy and discretion, and to be trusted with anything."
The soldier gave a glance between a squint and a leer at the demure
handmaid. "I am perfectly willing," said he, "that the damsel should
remain."
When all the rest had withdrawn, the soldier commenced his story. He was
a fluent smooth-tongued varlet, and had a command of language above his
apparent rank.
"May it please your Excellency," said he, "I am, as I before observed, a
soldier, and have seen some hard service, but my term of enlistment being
expired, I was discharged, not long since, from the army at Valladolid,
and set out on foot for my native village in Andalusia. Yesterday evening
the sun went down as I was traversing a great dry plain of Old Castile."
"Hold!" cried the governor, "what is this you say? Old Castile is some
two or three hundred miles from this."
"Even so," replied the soldier, coolly. "I told your Excellency I
had strange things to relate; but not more strange than true, as your
Excellency will find, if you will deign me a patient hearing."
"Proceed, culprit," said the governor, twirling up his moustaches.
"As the sun went down," continued the soldier, "I cast my eyes about in
search of quarters for the night, but as far as my sight could reach there
were no signs of habitation. I saw that I should have to make my bed on
the naked plain, with my knapsack for a pillow; but your Excellency is
an old soldier, and knows that to one who has been in the wars, such a
night's lodging is no great hardship."
The governor nodded assent, as he drew his pocket-handkerchief out of the
basket-hilt to drive away a fly that buzzed about his nose.
"Well, to make a long story short," continued the soldier, "I trudged
forward for several miles until I came to a bridge over a deep ravine,
through which ran a little thread of water, almost dried up by the summer
heat. At one end of the bridge was a Moorish tower, the upper end all in
ruins, but a vault in the foundation quite entire. Here, thinks I, is a
good place to make a halt; so I went down to the stream, and took a hearty
drink, for the water was pure and sweet, and I was parched with thirst;
then, opening my wallet, I took out an onion and a few crusts, which were
all my provisions, and seating myself on a stone on the margin of the
stream, began to make my supper,--intending afterwards to quarter myself
for the night in the vault of the tower; and capital quarters they would
have been for a campaigner just from the wars, as your Excellency, who is
an old soldier, may suppose."
"I have put up gladly with worse in my time," said the governor, returning
his pocket-handkerchief into the hilt of his sword.
"While I was quietly crunching my crust," pursued the soldier, "I heard
something stir within the vault; I listened--it was the tramp of a horse.
By-and-by a man came forth from a door in the foundation of the tower,
close by the water's edge, leading a powerful horse by the bridle. I could
not well make out what he was, by the starlight. It had a suspicious look
to be lurking among the ruins of a tower, in that wild solitary place. He
might be a mere wayfarer, like myself; he might be a _contrabandista_; he
might be a _bandolero_! what of that? thank heaven and my poverty, I had
nothing to lose; so I sat still and crunched my crust.
"He led his horse to the water, close by where I was sitting, so that I
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 Guadarama 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 armour.
"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 armour; while others were
in mouldered and mildewed garments, and in armour 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 spellbound warrior, 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 neighbouring caverns, they
are the spellbound 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 re-conquer the Peninsula and restore it to Moslem
rule.'
"'And when shall this happen?' said I.