So much he achieved without difficulty; but the more superstitious of his following shook their heads. Had not the King’s horse stumbled in the very gateway of Granada, causing his master to shiver his lance against the arch above? Had not a fox, also, rushed scatheless through the army, almost in front of Boabdil himself, without suffering hurt from the many arrows aimed at her? These were ill omens.
More disconcerting for military minds was the bold defiance of Don Diego Fernandez de Cordova, the youthful Governor of Lucena. The Moors had hoped to surprise the town, but it was obvious news of their coming had preceded them; for hardly had they spread through the immediate neighbourhood, burning and pillaging, than Don Diego and a small force of Christians flung open the gates and began to attack them. This they would hardly have dared to do, had they believed themselves unsupported; and Boabdil and Aliator, looking behind them to account for this temerity, saw to their horror the sun glittering on Christian spears and banners.
It was the Count of Cabra, uncle of Don Fernandez, with a troop of not more than two hundred horse and double that number of foot; but the sound of his trumpets re-echoing in the hills, and the curve of the road by which he came, as it descended to the plain, lent to his host a phantom size. The Moors at any rate believed it the whole Christian army, and at the first onslaught their infantry broke and fled. The cavalry still continued the battle fiercely, till the arrival of Don Alonso de Aguilar with reinforcements from Antequera, and the death of Aliator deprived them of the last hope of victory. Then defeat became a rout; and some, surrendering, begged for mercy, while others, missing the ford across the river in their hurry to escape, were drowned in the heavy flood. A few returned to Loja, but their king was not amongst them. Crouching amongst the low bushes by the waterside, his scimitar struck from his hand, Boabdil, “the Unfortunate” as astrologers had proclaimed him at his birth, was forced to surrender, and led a captive to the city he had meant to conquer.
The question of his fate was a matter for profound discussion in Castilian councils. At first it was suggested that he should be placed under lock and key in some inaccessible fortress; but the Marquis of Cadiz pointed out that no decision could give Muley Hacen greater pleasure. Better far than to remove Boabdil from Granada was to send him back to his kingdom as a vassal of the Christian sovereigns, that he might continue to foment discord amongst his own nation.
This advice pleased Ferdinand and Isabel, and soon the humiliating terms, on which the Prince should receive his liberty, were drawn up and signed. Boabdil did homage to the rulers of Castile, consenting to pay an annual tribute of twelve thousand doblas of gold, and to surrender four hundred Christian captives. Most galling of all, he publicly promised to appear at the Castilian Court, whenever summoned, and to allow the Christian armies free passage through his territory, in their campaigns against Muley Hacen and “El Zagal.” Having surrendered his own son and those of his principal nobles as hostages for his good faith, he returned to his own kingdom, free; yet bound by chains that were to cost him his kingdom and hold him in perpetual bondage.
CHAPTER VII
THE FALL OF GRANADA: THE MOORISH WAR
1484–1492
The kingdom of Granada had been cut off by land and sea from outward assistance, her plains and valleys had been ravaged by a foreign foe, her principal towns were torn by the factions of her ruling family, yet she turned a defiant, almost mocking gaze on those who had pledged themselves to her downfall. The thought of this defiance rankled with the Queen as bitterly as had the contempt shown for her commands by the young Enriquez.
There was nothing in her nature of the Oriental acceptance of ill-fortune as the will of a far-seeing Providence. Disaster to her spelt rather divine wrath visited on human incompetency; and Isabel looked on even temporary failure as something unclean and abhorrent, that could only be purified and overcome by perseverance ending in success. So sincere was her conviction, so wholehearted and untiring her share in whatever plan of action was laid down, that she could not but inspire her generals and councillors with something of her own enthusiasm.
At times her will clashed with Ferdinand’s ambitions, as when in 1484 he urged her to leave the weary struggle against Granada and help him regain the counties of Roussillon and Cerdagne; but though in later years the foreign policy of Aragon was to assume predominance, on this occasion the interests of Castile were jealously maintained.
Ferdinand argued his cause with no little truth and ability. The death of Louis XI. in the previous summer had left his son Charles VIII., a mere boy, as the figurehead of France, to the natural weakening of the government. Now was the time, before the child developed into a man, to win back Aragon’s lawful possessions, the Pyrenean counties, whose sympathies were Spanish rather than French. Isabel did not attempt to controvert these views. She even admitted that had it been a question of making war on Granada for the first time, or recovering Roussillon or Cerdagne, the latter policy would have been undoubtedly the best.