Boabdil, in the meanwhile, had not waited to be attacked; and his generals, taking the offensive, endeavoured to recapture some of the smaller fortresses that had fallen into Christian hands, besides stirring up revolt in the larger towns which had lately surrendered, such as Guadix and Baeza. Both efforts met with a measure of success; for many of the Moors, who had faithfully served “El Zagal” throughout his struggles with his nephew, were so disgusted at seeing his banner in the Christian camp, and at witnessing the soft complacency of Cid Haya, that they turned willingly from their old allegiance to the Prince who offered them deliverance from a foreign yoke.
Their patriotism came too late. The hour had passed when rebellion could do more than temporarily retard the waning Crescent; and the punishment of failure was meted out by Ferdinand and his generals with no unsparing hand. Yet this severity had its semblance of mercy. The inhabitants of the town in question might choose between exile with their movable property, or a full judicial inquiry into their conduct. Who were guilty? The citizens looked at one another and knew that few would be able to prove complete innocence before a hostile judgment seat, with racial hatred holding the balance; and their decision was not long in forming.
From the fairest cities in Granada passed away the population that had made her fame; and, as the exiles sailed to Africa, Castilians took possession of their deserted homes. The Curate of Los Palacios, in the case of Guadix, congratulates himself on Ferdinand’s cleverness in thus winning this town so completely from the enemies of the Holy Catholic Faith. “It is one of the mysteries of Our Lord,” he adds, “who would by no means consent that so noble a city should remain longer in the power of the Moors.”
Round Granada itself the Christian lines were closing in; and successful though arduous campaigns into the mountains of the Alpujarras had cut off the beleaguered city from hope of succour in that direction. Christian Europe, humbled by the fall of Constantinople, awaited the issue with expectant joy; and it seemed in this supreme moment as if the chivalry of both the Crescent and the Cross, conscious of universal interest, were inspired to a last emulation in the quest of glory. Never before in the crusade had the sallies of the besieged or the furious attacks of besiegers exhibited such contempt of personal danger; never before had schemes emanating from the council-chamber been supplemented by such deeds of individual bravery.
Chief hero of these days was the young Castilian noble, Hernando de Pulgar, “He of the Exploits,” as his countrymen proudly named him. Already in the earlier stages of the war he had earned a reputation for reckless daring; but the crowning touch to his fame was given by his midnight entry into Granada with fifteen companions of the same hazard-loving temperament. Led by a converted Moor, the little band of Christians scaled the walls and, making their way through the town by deserted streets, arrived unperceived at the principal mosque. Here Hernando de Pulgar drew from his pocket a strip of parchment, on which were inscribed the words dear to every Catholic but anathema to the sons of Islam, “Ave Maria!” and fixed it by his dagger to the door. Before he could follow up his intention of setting fire to the neighbouring houses, he was discovered; but nevertheless he and his friends succeeded in making their escape by dint of hard riding and a liberal use of their swords, before the majority of the inhabitants were even aware of their inroad.
It was an action to fire the imagination of all the young hot-bloods in the camp; and when in the summer of 1491 Isabel and a number of her ladies-in-waiting appeared at the seat of war, the incentive to deeds of prowess was redoubled. The sovereigns, though delighted with Hernando de Pulgar’s exploit, for which they rewarded him with every mark of honour and favour, were yet too practical to encourage a needless loss of life. They had long recognized, as we have seen, that in patience rather than in daring lay their hope of success; and when a fire broke out in the Queen’s tent and destroyed a good part of the camp, they determined to prepare for a long siege and to build more solid accommodation, as they had done at Baeza.
To this end the Spanish soldier was converted into a workman; and under his willing hands a city arose, not merely of clay and timber, but of stone. In shape a square, cut into four by wide crossroads, each quarter with its fine houses contained a block of marble inscribed with the names of those cities of Spain that had helped in its construction, the whole being finished within eighty days from its commencement.
ALHAMBRA, PATIO DE L’ALBERCA
FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY ANDERSON, ROME
The building of Santa Fé, “Holy Faith,” as Isabel characteristically christened the city when asked to name it after herself, had been witnessed from the walls of Granada; and Boabdil’s heart sank within him at this token of the iron determination he knew and feared. Already hunger was rife amongst his subjects; and though he might prolong the siege for months or even longer he realized that only ultimate failure lay before him. So did his principal councillors, and in October, 1491, acting on their advice, he entered at last into negotiations for surrender.