We hear of Musa’s son, Abd-ul-Aziz (or “Belasis,” as he is quaintly termed by old Spanish writers) marrying King Roderic’s widow, Exilona, at Toledo. Abd-ul-Aziz, however, was Governor of Seville, where he met his death, and it is not unlikely, if he married the queen at all, that he did so in that southern city, where she may have been left by her first consort to await the result of the battle of the Guadalete. If there be any truth in the legend that Exilona was of Moorish origin herself, the story of this second and apparently cold-blooded union seems less improbable. Tradition has it that the widow of the Goth only consented to the match on Abd-ul-Aziz promising to observe towards her all the deference due to a Christian queen. He kept his promise only too faithfully, and his forcing his officers to bend the knee to a woman and an infidel, is said to have contributed to bring about his assassination in the mosque at Seville.
The conquerors here, as in other parts of the kingdom, acted generously towards the conquered. A moderate tribute was levied on the Christians, who were allowed to practise their religion and be governed by their own laws and customs. Seven churches were allotted to their use, the names of these being Santa Eulalia, Santa Maria de Alficem, Santa Justa, San Sebastian, San Marcos, San Torcuato, and San Lucas. But these privileges must have hardly consoled the citizens for the loss of the town’s rank as capital of Spain. It became, as it had been under the Romans, “a strong place,” of which the dominant race valued the advantages, but, in consequence of the rise of Cordoba and Seville it sank to the condition of a provincial town.
As such its career was throughout stormy and turbulent. The spirit of rebellion seemed instinct in the grim fortress-like city, and infused itself into Mohammedan and Christian, Arab and Castilian alike. The two races fraternised well enough. They had a common interest: resistance to any external authority. This impatience of control was characteristic of the Toledans for centuries. Its annals during the period of Mohammedan occupation are a tedious record of sieges, riots, usurpations and massacres. Such events are only of interest when studied in the minutest detail. A brief résumé of them is, however, indispensable to a proper knowledge of the town.
The citizens’ first appearance in the troubled arena of Muslim politics was as loyalists—an uncongenial rôle! In the civil wars that distracted the reign of Abd-ul-Malik, Toledo was held by his son Omeya, and vainly besieged for a month by the rebels. On the approach of Abd-ul-Malik, the garrison, wishful of glory, made a vigorous sortie and completely routed the investing force. The townsmen had tasted blood. It took much to quench their thirst. Knowing their character, in the troubles fomented by the pretender Yusaf ben Debri, his partisan, Mohammed Abu-l-Aswad took refuge among them in the year of the Hegira 142. The place was immediately invested by the Wizir, Al Kama, and as usual offered a stout resistance. Wearied of their ruler, however, the people played him false and betrayed the town to the Wizir. Abu-l-Aswad was taken prisoner and sent to Cordoba.
A year or two later the Toledans repented of their submission. While the Amir, Abd-ur-Rahman, was engaged in preparations for a war in the east of Spain, some powerful families, led by one Hixem ben Adra al Fehri, rose, seized the Alcazar, and put the Wizir to flight. They released the notorious rebel, Kasim ben Yusuf, from prison, and raised an army of about ten thousand men—mostly freebooters and masterless men who seemed to have regarded Toledo as the best market for their peculiar talents. The Amir’s appearance before the walls, with a powerful army, caused moderate counsels to prevail among the insurgents. The citizens were anxious to be rid of the undesirables they had invited into their midst, and persuaded Hixem to visit the royal camp to solicit terms. Abd-ur-Rahman generously pardoned him, and once more incarcerating Kasim, left the town to itself.
He soon had good reason to repent his forbearance. In 763 Kasim escaped from confinement, rallied the citizens round him, and declared the town subject only to the Khalifa of Damascus. The siege that followed was languidly conducted. The people, we read, were suffered to cultivate their fields, and to carry produce into the city unmolested. At this rate the siege might have lasted as long as that of Candia. Kasim, meanwhile lulled into a sense of security, abused his power, and alienated his unruly subjects. On the arrival of the Amir, he was given notice to quit. Having seen him successfully elude the royal forces, Toledo opened its gates to Abd-ur-Rahman. The Amir, despairing of the townsmen’s temper, exacted from them but a nominal obedience, but his successor, Hakam, thought to coerce them by a bitter lesson. As Governor, he sent them one Amru of Huesca, a renegade Christian, “by a condescension,” he wrote, “which proves our extreme solicitude for your interests.” The renegade’s policy was thorough. He ingratiated himself with the people, and posed as the champion of their liberties. It was at their own suggestion that he raised a fortress in their very midst. The place being strongly garrisoned and all being ready, the approach of a large army, commanded by the Amir’s son, Abd-ur-Rahman, was announced. At the suggestion of the Governor, the prince was invited by the nobility into the city; and he, in return, as if to mark his sense of the honour conferred upon him, ordered a great feast to be made ready at the Castle. To this all the chief men were bidden. What followed is known as the Day of the Fosse. The guests were allowed to enter only one by one. Behind the gate stood a man with bared arm and uplifted axe. As each guest entered there was a sweep of the arm, a flash of steel, and a head rolled into the ditch already prepared. Without, nothing was heard, nothing was seen, nothing suspected. The episode reminds one of the famous Blood Bath of Stockholm. The butchery is said at last to have been revealed to those waiting outside the wall by the thick vapour issuing from the gate. A physician, who had been watching for hours, and who had noticed that none of the numerous guests who had entered, had issued forth, was the first to raise the alarm. “Men of Toledo,” he shouted, “I vow that yonder vapour is not the smoke of a feast, but rises from the blood of our butchered brethren!”
This ghastly tragedy occurred in 807, and has given rise to a proverbial expression current in Spanish—una noche Toledana, applied to a night disagreeably passed in sleeplessness or pain.
The blow struck by the ferocious Amru was of the kind that alone met with the approval of Macchiavelli: it not only intimidated, but it crushed. For a quarter of a century we hear no more of tumults or dissensions in the City by the Tagus. Meantime it prospered. Arts and letters flourished. In the year 827 we have to record the death “of the very learned alfaqui, Isa ben Dinar el Ghafeki, a native of that city and a disciple of Malik ben Anas. He was a man beloved by all—friendly in manner, admirable in conversation, and upright of life: such as were taught by Isa ben Dinar acquired their learning with delight. He was in the habit of practising some few observances that were considered extraordinary: he made, for example, the prayer of the dawn with the preparation and ablutions proper to that of the evening twilight.”
The opulence of the Jews and Christians decided the Wali, Aben Mafût ben Ibrahim, to increase their tribute. This led to the outbreak of 832. A wealthy young citizen, named Hakam el Atiki, otherwise known as El Durrete, or “the striker of blows,” had been insulted by the Wali, and used the discontent of the people as a means of avenging his injuries. He distributed money freely among the more inflammable sections of the populace, and collected about him a body of lawless followers. One of these was seized in the Soko, or market-place (the Zocodover) by one of the Wali’s officers, and a tumult at once uprose. In the end the Alcazar fell into the hands of the rebels, and the Wali barely escaped with his life. Hakam, however, was shortly afterwards obliged to abandon his conquest, and spread abroad the report that he had left the country. The vigilance of the garrison becoming in consequence relaxed, he seized the city by a coup de main, and held it for some years. He was wounded, taken prisoner, and beheaded in 837, by Abd-el-Raf, his head being suspended from the gate of Bisagra.
So far the risings at Toledo had been mainly political, and the townsmen had sunk their religious and racial differences to make common cause against the stranger. The cause of the insurrection of 854 was, by exception, an outburst of fanaticism on the part of the Muzarabes or Christians, who practised the ritual of the Spanish Goths. It was at this time that the Catholics of Cordoba and Seville, subject to some extraordinary aberration, had in great numbers earned the doubtful honour of martyrdom by blaspheming Mohammed. To Toledo, as the most likely spot at which to create a disturbance, came Eulogius and stirred the Christians to avenge the “wrongs” of their co-religionists. Under the leadership of Sindola, they dispossessed their Moorish governors, and carrying the war into the enemy’s own country, defeated the Amir’s forces at Andujar. Ordoño King of Leon, now came to the assistance of the citizens, who, hitherto, had shown no eagerness to call in the help of the Christians of the north. Mohammed, the Amir, presently appeared before Toledo, and drew the allied forces into an ambush. The Christians were totally defeated—almost annihilated. Nothing daunted, the Toledans, later on, insulted their sovereign by electing Eulogius to the vacant archiepiscopal see. Mohammed, by way of reprisal, inveigled a large force of Christians on to a bridge which he had undermined. It was the Day of the Fosse over again.