Ramirez bowed, and singling out an escort of a dozen men, prepared to obey his leader's orders; whilst Don Alonso, taking leave of Theodora, proceeded with his conquering band to join Don Antonio de Leyva. Each took a different way, and in a short time left the ill-fated town to the melancholy possession of the dying and the dead; occupied alone by the few wretches, to whom a spark of lingering life still adhered, and whose sufferings were shortly to be terminated in the general conflagration now fast approaching to its crisis.
CHAPTER V.
La cosa mas alegre que en la vida,
Permite al ser mortal humana gloria,
Es la patria del hombre tan querida
Despues de alguna prospera victoria.
Lope de Vega.
Ah! che per tutto io veggo
Qualche oggetto funesto!
Metastasio.
Granada now presented a scene of animated confusion. The repeated successes of the Christians against the rebels, and the intelligence lately received of the defeat of El Feri de Benastepar, with the total destruction of his forces, filled the inhabitants of that city with joy. Various bands of musicians paraded the gay and busy streets, uniting their harmonious strains with the more solemn sounds of the bells, whilst the joyous laugh, and other clamorous evidences of pleasure, filled the air with a confused yet pleasing din.
It was amidst this tumult of rejoicing, that Theodora entered the city of Granada. Her party had travelled slowly, so that the intelligence of the recent victory had reached the place before them, and they were not surprised at the extraordinary excitement of popular feeling. The animated scene served, in some degree, to draw her mind from its gloomy recollections, for during her journey she had again relapsed into her former state of despondency. She was now traversing the principal streets of that far-famed and renowned city, so long the grand arena of the Moslem's greatness, now the undisputed dominion of the victorious Christian. Every step she advanced exhibited some new object to awaken her curiosity or excite her feelings, such as a stranger must feel upon arriving at a city so lately rescued from the possession of an hereditary enemy.
Relics of Moorish grandeur were every where discernible; every street, every building, nay the very pavement on which they trod, teemed with associations of by-gone glory and departed power. The city was now chiefly inhabited by Spaniards; yet a considerable portion of its population consisted of Moors, who scrupulously adhered to their national costume, strikingly contrasted by its gaiety with the less fanciful but more manly attire of the Christians. The two people widely differed in all points, though now enclosed within the same precincts. Two mortal and implacable enemies, united in apparent friendship, paraded the streets, or tenanted the dwellings of Granada.
The high balconies of the city were hung with costly drapery, and the turrets of the magnificent palaces adorned with a profusion of large waving banners and gay pennons. Every window was crowded with rank and beauty, witnessing the gambols of the merry children or the boisterous recreations of the populace. The streets themselves afforded a quaint and curious spectacle, for in promiscuous and gay confusion were seen the splendid apparel of the noble, and the modest garb of the peasant; the shining armour and waving plumes of the Christian warrior, and the gaudy fantastic habiliments of the Moslem. With them appeared the solemn and lugubrious vestments of the ecclesiastical dignitaries, and the coarse habit and shaven crown of the monk.
Theodora was lost in wonder, so numerous and so whimsically contrasted were these various objects. But amongst this motley assemblage there were some who appeared more capable of interesting her heart and her fancy. She espied those who were no sincere partakers of the general joy, and whose sad eye and clouded brow belied the accents of their tongue. Some, who vainly strove to animate their countenances with a pleasure that was foreign to their hearts. The dejected and down-fallen Moors were among these; for though they had submitted to the Christian government, and admitted to the fullest extent the criminality of their fellow-countrymen, yet they could not but be sensible that it was the defeat and annihilation of their friends and former companions that occasioned these demonstrations of joy. Besides, they felt the pangs of shame and degradation, rendered still more poignant by a consciousness of the superior courage of those whose destruction they were now in some measure compelled to celebrate. To this was added the painful conviction, that although they might outwardly be treated by the Spaniards as fellow-subjects, no true sentiment of esteem and friendship could be awakened in the breasts of those who must always consider them as vanquished enemies. Besides the hatred which rankled alike in the hearts of the followers of the Cross and those of the Crescent, a hatred, which had been hereditary for many ages, was of itself an insurmountable obstacle to the friendly conjunction of two such different people. The Moors were therefore a prey to the most galling reflections, and smarting under the bitterest disappointment, at the very time that pleasure and contentment alone seemed to hold dominion in Granada.
Theodora beheld these unfortunates with a lively sensation of pity, though they had certainly little claim to it. The image of the odious Cañeri was of itself sufficient to banish any kindly feeling; yet they were forlorn and wretched, and this was alone a sacred title to the sympathies of her generous soul. She was, however, soon obliged to recall her thoughts to a subject of individual interest, for as she was doubling the Plaza nueva,[30] amongst the various Moors that paraded about, her eyes lighted on one that struck a sensation of dread to her very heart. It was Bermudo the renegade! She could not be deceived in his person, though his outward appearance had undergone a material alteration. The ingenuity which had changed his dress and disguised his manner, could not however alter the peculiar expression of his eye, and the chilling tranquil sternness of his features. Theodora trembled, for she perceived that she had been recognised by the renegade, who intensely fixed his eyes upon her, as though her person powerfully arrested his attention. She turned with terror from the dreaded object, and during the rest of her way, felt an involuntary apprehension at looking around her.