It is supposed that this chink in the cliff had served to admit light and air to some spacious caverns which, in remote times, had been formed in the rocks, and from which a rude staircase had communicated with a quinta, or country house, situated in the midst of the vineyards and olive grounds that clothe the hill side. But of these, Don Carlos, no vestige now remains; indeed all traces of them were lost soon after the occurrence of the events I am about to relate.
The last possessor of this villa was a wealthy Moor—Abenhabuz by name—of the tribe of the Ganzules, and one of the most distinguished Alfaquies of the proud city of Ronda. To the treachery of this Moor the capture of the Moslem stronghold by the Catholic kings[103] was mainly attributed; for the bravery of its Alcaide, the strength of its garrison, and the triple circuit of walls by which in those days its assailable points were defended, rendered it too formidable a post even for such indomitable spirits as Ferdinand and Isabella to think of attacking. But Hamet Zeli, surnamed El Zegri, the fierce governor of Ronda, dreamed not of treason, and least of all did he suppose that Abenhabuz, his bosom friend, could betray him. But what will not envy stoop to do? He was persuaded by his deceitful confidant that the Spaniards were laying close siege to Malaga, and that a most favourable opportunity thereby was presented for making a foray in their country. Sallying forth, therefore, with his brave Gomeles—the principal strength of the garrison—El Zegri crossed the mountains to the westward of the city, and fell upon the unprotected country round Arcos and Xeres de la Frontera.
Ferdinand and Isabella were quickly informed of his departure from Ronda, and, breaking up their camp before Malaga without loss of time, pressed forward through the rugged and now unguarded defiles of El Burgo, to seize upon their prey.
El Zegri, loaded with plunder, and breathing further vengeance, bent his steps also towards his sequestered fortress; little, however, anticipating the blow that awaited him. It was only at his bivouac in the dark cork forest under the lofty Sierra del Pinar that the thunder of the Castillian artillery burst upon his astounded ear.—He mounted his courser in all haste, and, dashing forward with mad speed, stopped not until he had gained the pass of Montejaque. You see it there, Don Carlos, (said the Padre, pointing to a deep gap in the summit of the serrated ridge that bounds the basin of Ronda to the west) it is still known in the country as El Puerto del Pasmo del Moro.[104]—What a sight there met his eager, searching eye! The proud city entrusted to his care, hemmed in on all sides by Christian lances!—the sumptuous mosques and stately palaces of his ancestors, crumbling to dust, under the all-destroying projectiles of the implacable enemies of his creed!—A cry of rage burst from him; but his prudence even in that trying moment did not forsake him. Checking his advancing troops, so as to keep them out of sight of the beleaguering army, he sent forward a trusty messenger, who, gaining admission to the Fortress, cheered its feeble garrison with the news of his being at hand, and of his intention to force his way into the city during the night. But Abenhabuz took care to have this information conveyed to the besiegers; and El Zegris’ bold attempt was consequently foiled.
The inhabitants, seeing all hope of relief now cut off, their store of provisions nearly exhausted, and large gaps formed in the walls of their until-now unconquered city, deemed it prudent to negotiate for a capitulation; and the sagacious Ferdinand, aware that El Zegri was still in the field—that the place could yet hold out some weeks—that his own supplies might be cut off,—and that to carry the city by storm would be attended with immense loss of life,—willingly granted most favourable terms; the garrison and inhabitants were permitted to depart with all their effects; such of them as chose to remain in Spain having even lands assigned to them, and being permitted the free exercise of their religion.
But whilst the wily Ferdinand hesitated not to grant these liberal terms, yet, as in duty bound, he forthwith transmitted to Rome a formal declaration of his resolve to extirpate the abominable heresy of Mohammed from his dominions, whenever a fitting opportunity should occur; thus piously reserving to himself the right of infringing the terms of capitulation, wherever his doing so should seem most conducive to the interests of our holy religion.
The traitor Abenhabuz, besides the indulgences granted by the terms of the surrender, was, as the price of his treason, permitted to reside within the city, and to retain possession of his estates. But some years after, (when, by the capture of Granada, the Catholic Monarchs were relieved from all apprehension of evil consequences ensuing from carrying their long meditated plans into effect) he, as well as the other Moslems who had chosen to remain in Spain, was offered the alternative of Christianity or expatriation. He balanced not in the choice; but forthwith repairing to the altar of Our Lady of griefs, declared himself a convert to the true faith.
In consequence of this act—with the piety and generosity which have at all times distinguished the Spanish nation above all others—the Moor was graciously allowed to keep possession of the lovely quinta and its surrounding vineyards; the rest of his vast estates being made over—for the good of his soul—as an expiatory offering to the chivalric brotherhood of Santiago.
Abenhabuz retired to his country retreat, accompanied only by his daughter, the beauteous Hinzára; for his sons—true scions of an Arabic stock—chose rather to seek a home on the parched shores of Africa, than abandon the accursed dogmas of their Prophet.
Hinzára was the youngest of the Moor’s children, and the sole issue of a Christian maiden who had been captured in a foray some time previous to the fall of Ronda, and who—meditating his future treason—Abenhabuz had considered it conducive to his interest to marry.