Leila or, the Siege of Granada, Complete

by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton

  CHAPTER VI. THE RETURN--THE RIOT--THE TREACHERY--AND THE DEATH.

  It was the eve of the fatal day on which Granada was to be deliveredto the Spaniards, and in that subterranean vault beneath the house ofAlmamen, before described, three elders of the Jewish persuasion weremet.

  "Trusty and well-beloved Ximen," cried one, a wealthy and usuriousmerchant, with a twinkling and humid eye, and a sleek and unctuousaspect, which did not, however, suffice to disguise something fierceand crafty in his low brow and pinched lips--"trusty and well-belovedXimen," said this Jew--"truly thou hast served us well, in yieldingto thy persecuted brethren this secret shelter. Here, indeed, may theheathen search for us in vain! Verily, my veins grow warm again; and thyservant hungereth, and hath thirst."

  "Eat, Isaac--eat; yonder are viands prepared for thee; eat, and sparenot. And thou, Elias--wilt thou not draw near the board? the wine is oldand precious, and will revive thee."

  "Ashes and hyssop--hyssop and ashes, are food and drink for me,"answered Elias, with passionate bitterness; "they have rased myhouse--they have burned my granaries--they have molten down my gold. Iam a ruined man!"

  "Nay," said Ximen, who gazed at him with a malevolent eye--for soutterly had years and sorrows mixed with gall even the one kindliersympathy he possessed, that he could not resist an inward chuckleover the very afflictions he relieved, and the very impotence heprotected--"nay, Elias, thou hast wealth yet left in the seaport townssufficient to buy up half Granada."

  "The Nazarene will seize it all!" cried Elias; "I see it already in hisgrasp!"

  "Nay, thinkest thou so?--and wherefore?" asked Ximen, startled intosincere, because selfish anxiety.

  "Mark me! Under licence of the truce, I went, last night, to theChristian camp: I had an interview with the Christian king; and whenhe heard my name and faith, his very beard curled with ire. 'Hound ofBelial!' he roared forth, 'has not thy comrade carrion, the sorcererAlmamen, sufficiently deceived and insulted the majesty of Spain? Forhis sake, ye shall have no quarter. Tarry here another instant, and thycorpse shall be swinging to the winds! Go, and count over thy misgottenwealth; just census shall be taken of it; and if thou defraudest ourholy impost by one piece of copper, thou shalt sup with Dives!' Suchwas my mission, and mine answer. I return home to see the ashes of minehouse! Woe is me!"

  "And this we owe to Almamen, the pretended Jew!" cried Isaac, from hissolitary but not idle place at the board. "I would this knife were athis false throat!" growled Elias, clutching his poniard with his longbony fingers.

  "No chance of that," muttered Ximen; "he will return no more to Granada.The vulture and the worm have divided his carcass between them ere this;and (he added inly with a hideous smile) his house and his gold havefallen into the hands of old childless Ximen."

  "This is a strange and fearful vault," said Isaac, quaffing a largegoblet of the hot wine of the Vega; "here might the Witch of Endor haveraised the dead. Yon door--whither doth it lead?"

  "Through passages none that I know of, save my master, hath trodden,"answered Ximen. "I have heard that they reach even to the Alhambra.Come, worthy Elias! thy form trembles with the cold: take this wine."

  "Hist!" said Elias, shaking from limb to limb; "our pursuers are uponus--I hear a step!"

  As he spoke, the door to which Isaac had pointed slowly opened andAlmamen entered the vault.

  Had, indeed, a new Witch of Endor conjured up the dead, the apparitionwould not more have startled and appalled that goodly trio. Elias,griping his knife, retreated to the farthest end of the vault. Isaacdropped the goblet he was about to drain, and fell upon his knees.Ximen, alone, growing, if possible, a shade more ghastly--retainedsomething of self-possession, as he muttered to himself--"He lives! andhis gold is not mine! Curse him!"

  Seemingly unconscious of the strange guests his sanctuary shrouded,Almamen stalked on, like a man walking in his sleep.

  Ximen roused himself--softly unbarred the door which admitted to theupper apartments, and motioned to his comrades to avail themselves ofthe opening, but as Isaac--the first to accept the hint--crept across,Almamen fixed upon him his terrible eye, and, appearing suddenly toawake to consciousness, shouted out, "Thou miscreant, Ximen! whom hastthou admitted to the secrets of thy lord? Close the door--these men mustdie!"

  "Mighty master!" said Ximen, calmly, "is thy servant to blame that hebelieved the rumour that declared thy death? These men are of our holyfaith, whom I have snatched from the violence of the sacrilegious andmaddened mob. No spot but this seemed safe from the popular frenzy.""Are ye Jews?" said Almamen. "Ah, yes! I know ye now--things of themarket-place and bazaar'. Oh, ye are Jews, indeed! Go, go! Leave me!"

  Waiting no further licence, the three vanished; but, ere he quitted thevault, Elias turned back his scowling countenance on Almamen (who hadsunk again into an absorbed meditation) with a glance of vindictiveire--Almamen was alone.

  In less than a quarter of an hour Ximen returned to seek his master; butthe place was again deserted.

  It was midnight in the streets of Granada--midnight, but not repose. Themultitude, roused into one of their paroyxsms of wrath and sorrow, bythe reflection that the morrow was indeed the day of their subjectionto the Christian foe, poured forth through the streets to the number oftwenty thousand. It was a wild and stormy night; those formidable gustsof wind, which sometimes sweep in sudden winter from the snows of theSierra Nevada, howled through the tossing groves, and along the windingstreets. But the tempest seemed to heighten, as if by the sympathy ofthe elements, the popular storm and whirlwind. Brandishing arms andtorches, and gaunt with hunger, the dark forms of the frantic Moorsseemed like ghouls or spectres, rather than mortal men; as, apparentlywithout an object, save that of venting their own disquietude, orexciting the fears of earth, they swept through the desolate city.

  In the broad space of the Vivarrambla the crowd halted, irresolute inall else, but resolved at least that something for Granada should yetbe done. They were for the most armed in their Moorish fashion; butthey were wholly without leaders: not a noble, a magistrate, an officer,would have dreamed of the hopeless enterprise of violating the trucewith Ferdinand. It was a mere popular tumult--the madness of a mob;--butnot the less formidable, for it was an Eastern mob, and a mob with swordand shaft, with buckler and mail--the mob by which oriental empireshave been built and overthrown! There, in the splendid space thathad witnessed the games and tournaments of that Arab and Africanchivalry--there, where for many a lustrum kings had reviewed devotedand conquering armies--assembled those desperate men; the loud windsagitating their tossing torches that struggled against the moonlessnight.

  "Let us storm the Alhambra!" cried one of the band: "let us seizeBoabdil, and place him in the midst of us; let us rush against theChristians, buried in their proud repose!"

  "Lelilies, Lelilies!--the Keys and the Crescent!" shouted the mob.

  The shout died: and at the verge of the space was suddenly heard a oncefamiliar and ever-thrilling voice.

  The Moors who heard it turned round in amaze and awe; and beheld, raisedupon the stone upon which the criers or heralds had been wont to utterthe royal proclamations, the form of Almamen, the santon, whom they haddeemed already with the dead.

  "Moors and people of Granada!" he said, in a solemn but hollow voice, "Iam with ye still. Your monarch and your heroes have deserted ye, butI am with ye to the last! Go not to the Alhambra: the fort isimpenetrable--the guard faithful. Night will be wasted, and day bringupon you the Christian army. March to the gates; pour along the Vega;descend at once upon the foe!"

  He spoke, and drew forth his sabre; it gleamed in the torchlight--theMoors bowed their heads in fanatic reverence--the santon sprang from thestone, and passed into the centre of the crowd.

  Then, once more, arose joyful shouts. The multitude had found a leaderworthy of their enthusiasm; and in regular order, they formed themselvesrapidly, and swept down the narrow streets.

  Swelled by several scattered groups of desultory marauders (th
e ruffiansand refuse of the city), the infidel numbers were now but a few furlongsfrom the great gate, whence they had been wont to issue on the foe.And then, perhaps, had the Moors passed these gates and reached theChristian encampment, lulled, as it was, in security and sleep, thatwild army of twenty thousand desperate men might have saved Granada;and Spain might at this day possess the only civilised empire which thefaith of Mohammed ever founded.

  But the evil star of Boabdil prevailed. The news of the insurrection inthe city reached him. Two aged men from the lower city arrived at theAlhambra--demanded and obtained an audience; and the effect of thatinterview was instantaneous upon Boabdil. In the popular frenzy he sawonly a justifiable excuse for the Christian king to break the conditionsof the treaty, rase the city, and exterminate the inhabitants. Touchedby a generous compassion for his subjects, and actuated no less by ahigh sense of kingly honor, which led him to preserve a truce solemnlysworn to, he once more mounted his cream-coloured charger, with the twoelders who had sought him by his side; and, at the head of his guard,rode from the Alhambra. The sound of his trumpets, the tramp of hissteeds, the voice of his heralds, simultaneously reached the multitude;and, ere they had leisure to decide their course, the king was in themidst of them.

  "What madness is this, O my people?" cried Boabdil, spurring into themidst of the throng,--"whither would ye go?"

  "Against the Christian!--against the Goth!" shouted a thousand voices."Lead us on! The santon is risen from the dead, and will ride by thyright hand!"

  "Alas!" resumed the king, "ye would march against the Christian king!Remember that our hostages are in his power: remember that he willdesire no better excuse to level Granada with the dust, and put you andyour children to the sword. We have made such treaty as never yet wasmade between foe and foe. Your lives, laws, wealth--all are saved.Nothing is lost, save the crown of Boabdil. I am the only sufferer. Sobe it. My evil star brought on you these evil destinies: without me, youmay revive, and be once more a nation. Yield to fate to-day, and you maygrasp her proudest awards to-morrow. To succumb is not to be subdued.But go forth against the Christians, and if ye win one battle, it isbut to incur a more terrible war; if you lose, it is not honourablecapitulation, but certain extermination, to which you rush! Bepersuaded, and listen once again to your king."

  The crowd were moved, were softened, were half-convinced. They turned,in silence, towards their santon; and Almamen did not shrink from theappeal; but stood forth, confronting the king.

  "King of Granada!" he cried aloud, "behold thy friend--thy prophet! Lo!I assure you victory!"

  "Hold!" interrupted Boabdil; "thou hast deceived and betrayed me toolong! Moors! know ye this pretended santon? He is of no Moslem creed. Heis a hound of Israel who would sell you to the best bidder. Slay him!"

  "Ha!" cried Almamen, "and who is my accuser?"

  "Thy servant-behold him!" At these words the royal guards lifted theirtorches, and the glare fell redly on the death-like features of Ximen.

  "Light of the world! there be other Jews that know him," said thetraitor.

  "Will ye suffer a Jew to lead ye, O race of the Prophet?" cried theking.

  The crowd stood confused and bewildered. Almamen felt his hour was come;he remained silent, his arms folded, his brow erect.

  "Be there any of the tribes of Moisa amongst the crowd?" cried Boabdil,pursuing his advantage; "if so, let them approach and testify what theyknow." Forth came--not from the crowd, but from amongst Boabdil's train,a well-known Israelite.

  "We disown this man of blood and fraud," said Elias, bowing to theearth; "but he was of our creed."

  "Speak, false santon! art thou dumb?" cried the king.

  "A curse light on thee, dull fool!" cried Almamen, fiercely. "Whatmatters who the instrument that would have restored to thee thy throne?Yes! I, who have ruled thy councils, who have led thine armies, I am ofthe race of Joshua and of Samuel--and the Lord of Hosts is the God ofAlmamen!"

  A shudder ran through that mighty multitude: but the looks, the mien,and the voice of the man awed them, and not a weapon was raised againsthim. He might, even then, have passed scathless through the crowd; hemight have borne to other climes his burning passions and his torturingwoes: but his care for life was past; he desired but to curse his dupes,and to die. He paused, looked round and burst into a laugh of suchbitter and haughty scorn, as the tempted of earth may hear in the hallsbelow from the lips of Eblis.

  "Yes," he exclaimed, "such I am! I have been your idol and your lord.I may be your victim, but in death I am your vanquisher. Christian andMoslem alike my foe, I would have trampled upon both. But the Christian,wiser than you, gave me smooth words; and I would have sold ye to hispower; wickeder than you, he deceived me; and I would have crushed himthat I might have continued to deceive and rule the puppets that ye callyour chiefs. But they for whom I toiled, and laboured, and sinned--forwhom I surrendered peace and ease, yea, and a daughter's person and adaughter's blood--they have betrayed me to your hands, and the Curse ofOld rests with them evermore--Amen! The disguise is rent: Almamen, thesanton, is the son of Issachar the Jew!"

  More might he have said, but the spell was broken. With a ferociousyell, those living waves of the multitude rushed over the stern fanatic;six cimiters passed through him, and he fell not: at the seventh hewas a corpse. Trodden in the clay--then whirled aloft--limb torn fromlimb,--ere a man could have drawn breath nine times, scarce a vestige ofthe human form was left to the mangled and bloody clay.

  One victim sufficed to slake the wrath of the crowd. They gathered likewild beasts whose hunger is appeased, around their monarch, who in vainhad endeavored to stay their summary revenge, and who now, pale andbreathless, shrank from the passions he had excited. He faltered forth afew words of remonstrance and exhortation, turned the head of his steed,and took his way to his palace.

  The crowd dispersed, but not yet to their homes. The crime of Almamenworked against his whole race. Some rushed to the Jews' quarter, whichthey set on fire; others to the lonely mansion of Almamen.

  Ximen, on quitting the king, had been before the mob. Not anticipatingsuch an effect of the popular rage, he had hastened to the house, whichhe now deemed at length his own. He had just reached the treasury ofhis dead lord--he had just feasted his eyes on the massive ingots andglittering gems; in the lust of his heart he had just cried aloud, "Andthese are mine!" when he heard the roar of the mob below the wall,--whenhe saw the glare of their torches against the casement. It was in vainthat he shrieked aloud, "I am the man that exposed the Jew!" the wildwind scattered his words over a deafened audience. Driven from hischamber by the smoke and flame, afraid to venture forth amongst thecrowd, the miser loaded himself with the most precious of the store: hedescended the steps, he bent his way to the secret vault, when suddenlythe floor, pierced by the flames, crashed under him, and the fire rushedup in a fiercer and more rapid volume, as the death-shriek broke throughthat lurid shroud.

  Such were the principal events of the last night of the Moorish dynastyin Granada.

  CHAPTER VII. THE END.

  Day dawned upon Granada: the populace had sought their homes, and aprofound quiet wrapped the streets, save where, from the fires committedin the late tumult, was yet heard the crash of roofs or the crackle ofthe light and fragrant timber employed in those pavilions of the summer.The manner in which the mansions of Granada were built, each separatedfrom the other by extensive gardens, fortunately prevented the flamesfrom extending. But the inhabitants cared so little for the hazard,that not a single guard remained to watch the result. Now and then somemiserable forms in the Jewish gown might be seen cowering by the ruinsof their house, like the souls that, according to Plato, watched incharnels over their own mouldering bodies. Day dawned, and the beamsof the winter sun, smiling away the clouds of the past night, playedcheerily on the murmuring waves of the Xenil and the Darro.

  Alone, upon a balcony commanding that stately landscape, stood the lastof the Moorish kings. He had sought to bring to his aid
all the lessonsof the philosophy he had cultivated. "What are we," thought the musingprince, "that we should fill the world with ourselves--we kings! Earthresounds with the crash of my falling throne: on the ear of races unbornthe echo will live prolonged. But what have I lost?--nothing that wasnecessary to my happiness, my repose; nothing save the source of all mywretchedness, the Marah of my life! Shall I less enjoy heaven andearth, or thought or action, or man's more material luxuries of foodor sleep--the common and the cheap desires of all? Arouse thee, then, Oheart within me! many and deep emotions of sorrow or of joy are yet leftto break the monotony of existence."

  He paused; and, at the distance, his eyes fell upon the lonely minaretsof the distant and deserted palace of Muza Ben Abil Gazan.

  "Thou went right, then," resumed the king--"thou wert right, bravespirit, not to pity Boabdil: but not because death was in his power;man's soul is greater than his fortunes, and there is majesty in a lifethat towers above the ruins that fall around its path." He turned away,and his cheek suddenly grew pale, for he heard in the courts belowthe tread of hoofs, the bustle of preparation: it was the hour for hisdeparture. His philosophy vanished: he groaned aloud, and re-enteredthe chamber just as his vizier and the chief of his guard broke upon hissolitude.

  The old vizier attempted to speak, but his voice failed him.

  "It is time, then, to depart," said Boabdil, with calmness; "let it beso: render up the palace and the fortress, and join thy friend, no morethy monarch, in his new home."

  He stayed not for reply: he hurried on, descended to the court, flunghimself on his barb, and, with a small and saddened train, passedthrough the gate which we yet survey, by a blackened and crumbling towerovergrown with vines and ivy; thence, amidst gardens, now appertainingto the convent of the victor faith, he took his mournful and unwitnessedway. When he came to the middle of the hill that rises above thosegardens, the steel of the Spanish armour gleamed upon him as thedetachment sent to occupy the palace marched over the summit in steadyorder and profound silence.

  At the head of this vanguard rode, upon a snow-white palfrey, the Bishopof Avila, followed by a long train of barefooted monks. They halted asBoabdil approached, and the grave bishop saluted him with the air ofone who addresses an infidel and an inferior. With the quick sense ofdignity common to the great, and yet more to the fallen, Boabdil felt,but resented not, the pride of the ecclesiastic. "Go, Christian," saidhe, mildly, "the gates of the Alhambra are open, and Allah has bestowedthe palace and the city upon your king: may his virtues atone the faultsof Boabdil!" So saying, and waiting no answer, he rode on, withoutlooking to the right or left. The Spaniards also pursued their way. Thesun had fairly risen above the mountains, when Boabdil and his trainbeheld, from the eminence on which they were, the whole armament ofSpain; and at the same moment, louder than the tramp of horse, or theflash of arms, was heard distinctly the solemn chant of Te Deum, whichpreceded the blaze of the unfurled and lofty standards. Boabdil, himselfstill silent, heard the groans and exclamations of his train; he turnedto cheer or chide them, and then saw, from his own watch-tower, with thesun shining full upon its pure and dazzling surface, the silver cross ofSpain. His Alhambra was already in the hands of the foe, while, besidethat badge of the holy war, waved the gay and flaunting flag of St.Iago, the canonised Mars of the chivalry of Spain.

  At that sight the king's voice died within him: he gave the rein to hisbarb, impatient to close the fatal ceremonial, and did not slacken hisspeed till almost within bow-shot of the first ranks of the army. Neverhad Christian war assumed a more splendid or imposing aspect. Far asthe eye could reach extended the glittering and gorgeous lines of thatgoodly power, bristling with sunlit spears and blazoned banners; whilebeside murmured, and glowed, and danced, the silver and laughing Xenil,careless what lord should possess, for his little day, the banks thatbloomed by its everlasting course. By a small mosque halted the flowerof the army. Surrounded by the arch-priests of that mighty hierarchy,the peers and princes of a court that rivalled the Rolands ofCharlemagne, was seen the kingly form of Ferdinand himself, with Isabelat his right hand and the highborn dames of Spain, relieving, with theirgay colours and sparkling gems, the sterner splendour of the crestedhelmet and polished mail.

  Within sight of the royal group, Boabdil halted--composed his aspectso as best to conceal his soul,--and, a little in advance of his scantytrain, but never, in mien and majesty, more a king, the son of Abdallahmet his haughty conqueror.

  At the sight of his princely countenance and golden hair, his comelyand commanding beauty, made more touching by youth, a thrill ofcompassionate admiration ran through that assembly of the braveand fair. Ferdinand and Isabel slowly advanced to meet their laterival--their new subject; and, as Boabdil would have dismounted, theSpanish king place his hand upon his shoulder. "Brother and prince,"said he, "forget thy sorrows; and may our friendship hereafter consolethee for reverses against which thou hast contended as a hero and aking-resisting man, but resigned at length to God!"

  Boabdil did not affect to return this bitter, but unintentional mockeryof compliment. He bowed his head, and remained a moment silent; then,motioning to his train, four of his officers approached, and kneelingbeside Ferdinand, proffered to him, upon a silver buckler, the keys ofthe city.

  "O king!" then said Boabdil, "accept the keys of the last hold which hasresisted the arms of Spain! The empire of the Moslem is no more. Thineare the city and the people of Granada: yielding to thy prowess, theyyet confide in thy mercy."

  "They do well," said the king; "our promises shall not be broken. But,since we know the gallantry of Moorish cavaliers, not to us, but togentler hands, shall the keys of Granada be surrendered."

  Thus saying, Ferdinand gave the keys to Isabel, who would have addressedsome soothing flatteries to Boabdil: but the emotion and excitement weretoo much for her compassionate heart, heroine and queen though she was;and, when she lifted her eyes upon the calm and pale features of thefallen monarch, the tears gushed from them irresistibly, and her voicedied in murmurs. A faint flush overspread the features of Boabdil, andthere was a momentary pause of embarrassment which the Moor was thefirst to break.

  "Fair queen," said he, with mournful and pathetic dignity; "thou canstread the heart that thy generous sympathy touches and subdues: thisis thy last, nor least glorious, conquest. But I detain ye: let not myaspect cloud your triumph. Suffer me to say farewell."

  "May we not hint at the blessed possibility of conversion?" whisperedthe pious queen through her tears to her royal consort.

  "Not now--not now, by St. Iago!" returned Ferdinand, quickly, and inthe same tone, willing himself to conclude a painful conference. He thenadded, aloud, "Go, my brother, and fair fortune with you! Forget thepast."

  Boabdil smiled bitterly, saluted the royal pair with profound and silentreverence, and rode slowly on, leaving the army below, as he ascendedthe path that led to his new principality beyond the Alpuxarras. Asthe trees snatched the Moorish cavalcade from the view of the king,Ferdinand ordered the army to recommence its march; and trumpet andcymbal presently sent their music to the ear of the Moslems.

  Boabdil spurred on at full speed till his panting charger halted atthe little village where his mother, his slaves, and his faithful Amine(sent on before) awaited him. Joining these, he proceeded without delayupon his melancholy path.

  They ascended that eminence which is the pass into the Alpuxarras. Fromits height, the vale, the rivers, the spires, the towers of Granada,broke gloriously upon the view of the little band. They halted,mechanically and abruptly; every eye was turned to the beloved scene.The proud shame of baffled warriors, the tender memories of home--ofchildhood--of fatherland, swelled every heart, and gushed from everyeye. Suddenly, the distant boom of artillery broke from the citadel androlled along the sunlit valley and crystal river. A universal wail burstfrom the exiles! it smote--it overpowered the heart of the ill-starredking, in vain seeking to wrap himself in Eastern pride or stoicalphilosophy. The tears gushed from his e
yes, and he covered his face withhis hands.

  Then said his haughty mother, gazing at him with hard and disdainfuleyes, in that unjust and memorable reproach which history haspreserved--"Ay, weep like a woman over what thou couldst not defend likea man!"

  Boabdil raised his countenance, with indignant majesty, when he felt hishand tenderly clasped, and, turning round, saw Amine by his side.

  "Heed her not! heed her not, Boabdil!" said the slave; "never didstthou seem to me more noble than in that sorrow. Thou wert a hero for thythrone; but feel still, O light of mine eyes, a woman for thy people!"

  "God is great!" said Boabdil; "and God comforts me still! Thy lips;which never flattered me in my power, have no reproach for me in myaffliction!"

  He said, and smiled upon Amine--it was her hour of triumph.

  The band wound slowly on through the solitary defiles: and that placewhere the king wept, and the woman soothed, is still called "El, ultimosuspiro del Moro,--THE LAST SIGH OF THE MOOR!"