CHAPTER L

Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada

by Washington Irving

CHAPTER L, CHRONICLE OF THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA by Washington Irving

HOW THE PEOPLE OF GRANADA REWARDED THE VALOR OF
EL ZAGAL.


The daring spirit of Muley Abdallah el Zagal in sallying forth to
defend his territories while he left an armed rival in his capital
struck the people of Granada with admiration. They recalled his
former exploits, and again anticipated some hardy achievement from
his valor. Couriers from the army reported its formidable position
on the height of Bentomiz. For a time there was a pause in the
bloody commotions of the city; all attention was turned to the blow
about to be struck at the Christian camp. The same considerations
which diffused anxiety and terror through Cordova swelled every
bosom with exulting confidence in Granada. The Moors expected to
hear of another massacre like that in the mountains of Malaga. "El
Zagal has again entrapped the enemy!" was the cry. "The power of
the unbelievers is about to be struck to the heart. We shall soon
see the Christian king led captive to the capital." Thus was the name
of El Zagal on every tongue. He was extolled as the savior of the
country, the only one worthy of wearing the Moorish crown. Boabdil
was reviled as basely remaining passive while his country was invaded
and so violent became the clamor of the populace that his adherents
trembled for his safety.

While the people of Granada were impatiently looking out for tidings
of the anticipated victory scattered horsemen came spurring across
the Vega. They were fugitives from the Moorish army, and brought
the first incoherent account of its defeat. Every one who attempted
to tell the tale of this unaccountable panic and dispersion was as if
bewildered by the broken recollection of some frightful dream. He
knew not how or why it came to pass. He talked of a battle in the
night, among rocks and precipices, by the glare of bale-fires; of
multitudes of armed foes in every pass, seen by gleams and flashes;
of the sudden horror that seized upon the army at daybreak, its
headlong flight, and total dispersion. Hour after hour the arrival
of other fugitives confirmed the story of ruin and disgrace.

In proportion to their recent vaunting was the humiliation that now
fell upon the people of Granada. There was a universal burst, not of
grief, but indignation. They confounded the leader with the army--
the deserted with those who had abandoned him, and El Zagal, from
being their idol, became suddenly the object of their execration. He
had sacrificed the army; he had disgraced the nation; he had betrayed
the country. He was a dastard, a traitor; he was unworthy to reign.

On a sudden one among the multitude shouted, "Long live Boabdil
el Chico!" The cry was echoed on all sides, and every one shouted,
"Long live Boabdil el Chico! long live the legitimate king of Granada!
and death to all usurpers!" In the excitement of the moment they
thronged to the Albaycin, and those who had lately besieged Boabdil
with arms now surrounded his palace with acclamations. The keys of
the city and of all the fortresses were laid at his feet; he was borne in
state to the Alhambra, and once more seated with all due ceremony on
the throne of his ancestors.

Boabdil had by this time become so accustomed to be crowned and
uncrowned by the multitude that he put no great faith in the duration
of their loyalty. He knew that he was surrounded by hollow hearts,
and that most of the courtiers of the Alhambra were secretly devoted
to his uncle. He ascended the throne as the rightful sovereign who
had been dispossessed of it by usurpation, and he ordered the heads
of four of the principal nobles to be struck off who had been most
zealous in support of the[9]usurper. Executions of the kind were
matters of course on any change in Moorish government, and Boabdil
was lauded for his moderation and humanity in being content with so
small a sacrifice. The factions were awed into obedience; the populace,
delighted with any change, extolled Boabdil to the skies; and the name
of Muley Abdallah el Zagal was for a time a by-word of scorn and
opprobrium throughout the city.

Never was any commander more astonished and confounded by a
sudden reverse of fortune than El Zagal. The evening had seen him
with a powerful army at his command, his enemy within his grasp,
and victory about to cover him with glory and to consolidate his
power: the morning beheld him a fugitive among the mountains, his
army, his prosperity, his power, all dispelled, he knew not how--gone
like a dream of the night. In vain had he tried to stem the headlong
flight of the army. He saw his squadrons breaking and dispersing
among the cliffs of the mountains, until of all his host only a handful
of cavaliers remained faithful. With these he made a gloomy retreat
toward Granada, but with a heart full of foreboding. As he drew near
to the city he paused on the banks of the Xenil and sent forth scouts
to collect intelligence. They returned with dejected countenances.
"The gates of Granada," said they, "are closed against you. The
banner of Boabdil floats on the tower of the Alhambra."

El Zagal turned his steed and departed in silence. He retreated
to the town of Almunecar, and thence to Almeria, which places still
remained faithful to him. Restless and uneasy at being so distant
from the capital, he again changed his abode, and repaired to the
city of Guadix, within a few leagues of Granada. Here he remained,
endeavoring to rally his forces and preparing to avail himself of
any sudden change in the fluctuating politics of the metropolis.