Muley Hacen, both weary of war and intrigue and terrified lest the populace in their anger should clamour for his death, hastily abdicated; whereupon El Zagal, who had only been awaiting a favourable opportunity to seize the throne, hurried to the capital. Fortune threw a glamour over his advent; for, as he passed through the Sierra Nevada, he surprised by chance a body of Christian knights enjoying a halt in one of the fertile valleys. These were Knights of the Order of Calatrava, sent out from Alhama to forage for the garrison; but the success of their raid had rendered them careless, and no sentry warned them of the enemy’s approach. Dismounted and scattered, some without arms, and none fully prepared, they broke before the thunder of the Moorish cavalry; and “El Zagal” and his men entered Granada with a train of captives and the heads of those whom they had slain hanging from their saddles.
It was an omen to delight the patriotic; but the new Sultan’s peace of mind was soon rudely shaken, for Muley Hacen died within the year, and rumour at once connected his sudden end with the brother who had usurped his power. Boabdil also, from his refuge at Cordova, declared himself the undoubted King of Granada now that his father was no more, and the sovereigns, who saw their way to fomenting new discord amongst their enemies, instantly offered him any assistance in their power.
Boabdil, Abdallah “El Chico” “the Young,” as he was often called to distinguish him from his rival Abdallah, “El Zagal,” could count as well on the support of many Moorish families who hated and feared his uncle; and though on the whole the chances of the duel were against him, yet the issue was sufficiently doubtful to make both parties willing to compromise. In the end a treaty of partition was signed. By this “El Zagal” kept the seaboard with the important towns of Almeria, Malaga, and Velez, the mountainous tract of the Alpujarras famous for its warriors, and half the town of Granada with the palace of the Alhambra. To Boabdil were left the Alcazaba and poorer quarter of the city, with all the northern part of the kingdom adjoining Andalusia.
Delighted to be once more sovereign in his own land, the young Sultan sent to inform his Christian patrons of the settlement he had made, begging them in virtue of his submission to spare his territories in their future invasions. Such a concession was far from Ferdinand’s thoughts; and he replied by denouncing his vassal as a traitor who had perfidiously allied himself with the open enemies of Castile. At the same time he and his army advanced on Loja, one of the few important towns that had been left to Boabdil, and whose possession the Christians had long desired in order to establish easy communication with their outpost of Alhama.
The unfortunate Abdallah “El Chico,” victim alike of craft and circumstances, collected his Moorish supporters and sallied out to the relief of his city with what show of scorn and defiance he could muster, hoping by personal bravery to triumph over those whose skill and cunning he had learned to dread. The ensuing combat, according to the chronicles, was marked on both sides by striking deeds of valour, but perhaps the honour of the day rested, amongst the Christians at least, with an English noble, who had lately joined in the crusade with some four hundred foot-soldiers of his nation, armed with bows and axes.
This knight, called by his Spanish allies the “Conde de Escalas” from his family name of Scales, finding the scope for cavalry action too restricted for his taste, dismounted and led his men to an assault on the walls of Loja. He was already mounting a ladder, when a stone well-aimed from above caught him full on the face, hurling him to the ground, and he was with difficulty extricated and carried to his tent. Here it was discovered that the blow had deprived him of two of his front teeth, a loss likely to disturb the equanimity of a cavalier of fashion however courageous. The Conde de Escalas nevertheless rose to the occasion; and when the King, going to visit him during his convalescence as a mark of favour, condoled with him on what he had suffered, he replied cheerfully: “God Who hath made this building, my body, hath but opened a door, that He may the more clearly see what passeth within.” Rewarded for his assistance and valorous deeds by rich gifts he departed not long afterwards to his own land.
Of the Moors, both Boabdil and his principal general, Hamet “El Zegri,” were wounded, and after negotiations with the young Gonsalvo de Cordova on behalf of the Christians, consented to the capitulation of Loja on the 29th of May, 1486. The terms were sufficiently humiliating to punish Boabdil well for his supposed perfidy; for he agreed to surrender his title “King of Granada” and to become merely Duke of Guadix, with the lordship of that town, if within six months he or his Christian allies should succeed in wresting it from his uncle. On the latter he promised to make unceasing war. In contrast to this severity, the inhabitants of Loja were allowed to depart where they would, carrying with them their movable property.
The capture of the famous “Flower among the Thorns” opened up a way into the heart of Granada, of which the Christians were not slow to take advantage, its possession being quickly followed by the reduction of several Moorish fortresses of minor importance. To the camp before Moclin, one of these strongholds, came the Queen herself to share in the triumph of her army, and with her the Infanta Isabel, now a Princess of marriageable age.
The Curate of Los Palacios has described the scene of her arrival with a minute attention to detail that would have made his fortune as a modern journalist of fashions. From him we know the exact costumes worn, not only by the Queen and her daughter, but by Ferdinand and the young English Conde de Escalas who rode in his train, while we are given a curious little picture of the formal greeting between husband and wife.
Before they embraced, they bent low each of them three times in reverence, and the Queen took off her hat, so that she remained in her coif with her face uncovered; and the King came to her and embraced her and kissed her on the cheek. Afterwards he went to his daughter and embraced and kissed her also, making the sign of the cross in token of his blessing.