The Marquis saw plainly by this recital, that the Bailiff’s son only was to blame, and that those whom they called his murderers had killed him in their own defence; but when he was informed that these two Cavaliers were no other than Don Alonso de Zuniga and the pretended Ambrosio, and that the Bailiff held the latter in his custody, he began to consider that this adventure was ordained by Heaven to afford him an opportunity of being avenged on his daughter’s seducer. He called the Bailiff before him and excited him to pursue this affair with warmth, assuring him of the protection of his influence and purse, and advising him to repair to Seville the next morning, accompanied by all the relatives of the deceased, as well as those of the wounded, and there throw themselves at the feet of the magistrates, crying aloud for Justice. The Bailiff resolved to follow this advice, and accordingly conducted his prisoner to that city the following day, escorted by the guards and some of the most resolute peasants belonging to the town. When the people of Seville saw him thus brought up, and knew the cause, they were so enraged that it was with great difficulty that the unfortunate Moor was preserved from their fury. In addition to this, Don Lewis arrived the same day in the city, thinking his presence necessary to engage the Judges to condemn a man whose destruction he had sworn.
On the other hand Don Alonso was unfortunately so ill of his wounds that he could scarcely sit on horseback, nor indeed had he yet been able to assemble a sufficient number of his friends to undertake to deliver Ozmin by force. Thus, reduced to solicit on his behalf, he implored each of the Judges separately to consider that they could not in justice condemn a man to death, whose only crime was that of having defended himself against assassins. In answer to this he was told, that he ought to be well contented that he himself was not secured and prosecuted: that the blood which had been spilt demanded justice, and that if he were in the prisoner’s place, they could not possibly be able to save him. The death of Ozmin appeared inevitable and near at hand; but in spite of all the endeavours of Don Lewis to hasten it, it was deferred by an incident which that nobleman little expected. He received a courier express from the Queen who informed him of the capture of the city of Granada, and ordered him to repair to her instantly with Daraxa, whose father was most anxious to see her, who having himself determined to become a Christian, hoped that his daughter would not refuse to follow so good an example.
There was also a packet of letters for Daraxa, but the Marquis judged it most proper to withhold them from her; and did not even communicate the news contained in his own, lest in her impatience of returning to her parents, she should oblige him to set off with her the very next day for Granada. He wished to see the prosecution of Don Jaymé closed by a sentence of death, and even to be present at his execution before his departure. For this purpose he redoubled his efforts and solicitations, in which he succeeded so effectually with the Judges that they condemned Ozmin to be beheaded two days afterwards, under the name of Don Jaymé, Gentleman of Arragon.
Zuniga was among the first that were informed of this severe sentence, of which he apprised the ladies by letter, assuring them, at the same time, that he had assembled above three hundred men, and that he and his friends would all perish, rather than suffer such an injustice. What words can express the affliction of the beautiful Moor? The idea of the ignominious treatment that was preparing for her dear Ozmin almost drove her mad. In the midst of her despair she met Don Lewis, at his return from the palace, where he had spent the whole of the morning. She cast upon him a furious and piercing look, and said, with such transport as sufficiently evinced the disorder of her mind: “Barbarian! are you now satisfied? Unjust and cowardly Judges have consented without shame to gratify your resentment at the expence of innocence. But think not that the blood of this cavalier, who is thus injured and oppressed by your influence and suggestions, shall be shed with impunity. He is my lover, and my husband; a relation of the King of Granada; and not the gallant of your daughter, for whom such a man was never destined. Your head shall answer to me for his; for there are those among his relations, or my own, who will have vengeance; or, if you escape their resentment, I myself will strike the poniard to your heart.”
Don Lewis was thunderstruck at these impassioned exclamations, which showed but too clearly Daraxa’s interest in the life of the prisoner. He knew not what to reply, so overwhelmed was he with trouble and confusion. He at length, however, told her, that she was much to blame for not having sooner informed him of the quality of the pretended Ambrosio, against whom he did not deny that he had solicited, conceiving that he had disgraced his house. Daraxa was proceeding to assure him that it was not the fault of Ozmin if Elvira had conceived a foolish love for him, but at that moment a servant entered the room, and whispered to the Marquis that there were several equipages at the gate, and a great number of Moors, who asked to speak with Daraxa. Don Lewis was somewhat troubled at this news, and apologized for being obliged to leave her for an instant. As Daraxa had not heard what the servant had whispered, and wished to know everything that happened in her present anxious state, she followed the Marquis and entered a parlour, where from the window she perceived some Moors whom she knew at the gate, for the most part servants of her father. This sight beguiled her of her troubles for awhile, and joy took possession of her heart, when Don Lewis entered the room conducting one of her father’s officers into her presence, who, having paid his respects to her, announced the capture of the city of Granada, and that the war was at an end. He informed her at the same time that her father, having obtained permission of their Catholic Majesties to recall her home, had sent her an equipage and followers suitable to a person of her high birth: that she must doubtless be already informed of all these particulars by the courier the Queen had dispatched to the Marquis de Padilla, and by the letters she must have received. This was a fresh cause of confusion to the Marquis, who was obliged to frame all sorts of excuses to Daraxa for not having before put her in possession of them.
The joy of the beautiful Moor lasted no longer than the time that was occupied in communicating to her the wishes of her father. The thoughts respecting Ozmin, and the extreme danger he was in, soon renewed her grief. This afflicted lover dispatched the officer, and Orviedo by whom he was accompanied, to demand a public audience for her of the Judges, who were at that moment deliberating upon advices they had just received that Don Alonso’s house was filling with cavaliers who were arrived from the country to second him in his design to rescue his friend. To prevent this enterprise, the Judges had just resolved to have the culprit put to death that night in prison.
They were much surprised at Daraxa’s request, never having known an instance of a woman coming in ceremony before them, to address the Judges, and they knew not what answer to return. The oldest among them were of opinion that she ought not to be allowed an audience, but the younger ones were of a different way of thinking. The curiosity to know what she could have to say to them—the respect they were bound to entertain for a lady who was so great a favourite with the Queen, and, above all, the pleasure of seeing her, at last prevailed; and they decided that an audience should be granted her at six in the evening. Daraxa, who was apprehensive that this would have been refused her, was well pleased at this message. She sent Orviedo to Don Alonso, apprising him of her intentions, and requesting him to accompany her to the palace, if his health would allow him to do her this favor. Zuniga was extremely charmed with the honor conferred upon him by the beautiful Moor in selecting him as her squire upon this occasion, and prepared for the cavalcade. He had no need to seek very far for the cavaliers he wished to join him in it; since they were, for the most part, already in his own house, ready to follow him wherever he chose to lead them. He conducted them at five o’clock to Don Lewis’s house, who, seeing more than two hundred cavaliers who came for Daraxa, whose intentions he was not unacquainted with, went in search of her, and offered himself to bear her company; but she returned him thanks, telling him that she was very glad she was able to spare him the mortification of seeing her solicit for the life of a man, whose enemy he had so openly professed himself, and, in fact, against whose life he was the principal prosecutor.
The Marquis, stung to the quick by this refusal, would willingly have frustrated the lady’s design, or at least have rendered it useless if it had been in his power; but it was now too late to frame any obstacle. He was, therefore, obliged to conceal his mortification, which was, however, visibly depicted on his face, in spite of all his efforts to smother it. Daraxa at length left the house, without taking any notice of his displeasure. She found Don Alonso waiting for her on foot at the gate, with all the principal persons of the troop, who had also alighted to compliment her. She made an effort to express some joy, notwithstanding the profound sorrow that she felt on the occasion, and assured Don Alonso she should ever entertain the most lively sense of her obligation to him. Zuniga forgot nothing that a man in love and full of noble thoughts could say on such an occasion, and answered: that “he could not express how sensible he was of her kindness, in having selected himself and his friends to conduct her to the palace, where she could not fail to immortalize herself by so heroic an action.” Don Alonso, as well as the other gentlemen, could not sufficiently applaud so generous an undertaking, most firmly believing that the beautiful Moor interested herself for the prisoner, merely out of friendship for her friend Donna Elvira.
After these compliments, Daraxa mounted her horse with her usual grace. Don Alonso and the rest followed her example, and the cavalcade began to defile by the Moors, who were about forty in number, all well equipped, and admirably mounted, having Orviedo and the newly-arrived officer at their head. After these came Daraxa herself, between Don Alonso and Don Diego de Castro; the remainder of the company followed in very good order, six in each rank. Though the preparations for this cavalcade had occupied but little time, yet the rumour of its approach had already spread through the city, and the people, who were as curious to behold the beautiful Moor as to know what could be her business at the palace, were collected in crowds in the streets through which she must of necessity pass. She was dressed in a most magnificent Moorish habit, and had neglected nothing that could add to her beauty on so important an occasion. All the spectators were struck with her becoming appearance; but what astonished them more than any thing, was the graceful ease and dexterity with which she managed her horse; an art in which Spanish women rarely excel.
The cavalcade having arrived at the square before the palace, Don Alonso formed his Cavaliers into a squadron round about her, and the Judges sent out two ushers of the Court, who conducted her to the door of the first hall, where she was received by two of the Judges, who did her all the honor that could have been conferred on a princess, and led her to the audience. Don Alonso, and other young nobles, who had alighted from their horses at the same time as Daraxa, followed her, and entered also into the hall where the Judges were assembled, who appeared much surprised and uneasy on this account. Putting, however, a good face on the matter, they attended only to the Moorish lady, who charmed them all by the elegant and majestic air with which she presented herself before the tribunal of justice. She took her seat in an arm-chair with a cushion and foot-carpet, which had been prepared for her, and after having beheld all the Judges for some moments with fixed attention, she raised her voice, and thus addressed them:—