The Son of Columbus

by Molly Elliot Seawell

At every stage of their journey they were met with news of the impending triumph of the Spanish arms. The country was ablaze with patriotism. For nearly eight hundred years the Moors had occupied Spanish territory, had built great cities and fortresses, and had maintained a great court at Granada, in the magnificent palace of the Alhambra, grander than that of the Spanish sovereigns themselves. The Moors were aliens and of another race; they had a different civilization, Oriental in character and totally unlike the Christian civilization. Never, during all these eight hundred years, had there been peace in Spain; nor would there ever be peace until the foreign invaders were driven out. Gradually they had been hemmed in, their large cities taken, their fortresses forced to surrender, until now, under Boabdil, a weak and effeminate king, Granada alone remained to them. This had been invested on every side, no provisions had been carried to the city and garrison for many months, and it was only a question of a few weeks when it must surrender. The Spanish sovereigns did not intend to carry the city by assault, not wishing to injure the women and children or to endanger the city by fire, but to reduce it by steady and incessant attacks. That hour was near at hand.

The Castilian army had borne its share in the campaign and siege, and its Queen, Isabella of Castile, who had administered the civil government of Arragon as well as Castile while King Ferdinand was in the field, was to join him at Granada.

The party from the castle of Langara reached the neighborhood of Santa Fé early in the morning of the day Queen Isabella was to arrive, and thus were to witness the meeting between the Queen of Castile and the King of Arragon; for, although they were husband and wife, they were independent sovereigns, and met first as such.

Early in the bright November morning, upon the last stage of their journey, the party from the castle was met by the Admiral coming from Santa Fé to greet them. They met in the narrow pass of Pinos, about six miles from Santa Fé. Already the highway was crowded with the advance-guard of Queen Isabella’s party, together with the great concourse which always flocks toward the scene of coming exciting events. The Admiral was accompanied by Don Tomaso de Gama and Alonzo de Quintanilla, an accountant to Queen Isabella, and who was the steady friend of the Admiral. As soon as they met Doña Christina they all dismounted and respectfully greeted her. Then the Admiral embraced Diego; and when greetings with all were exchanged they set forward briskly. Doña Christina wished to reach Santa Fé and put on the splendid attire of a court lady, in which to greet her Queen. Don Tomaso, too, must return quickly, as well as Alonzo de Quintanilla. The Admiral decided to return with them, so that Diego and Don Felipe, with Fray Piña alone, standing on a rocky height directly overlooking the road, witnessed the splendid pageant of the meeting of the sovereigns. The multitude of persons was very great and of all sorts, from peasants to great nobles with their long trains of attendants. None suspected that the fair-haired and blue-eyed youth standing by the grave young ecclesiastic was the son of the man most talked of in Spain at that moment, for the whole country was awake and alive to the projects of the Admiral, who was derided by some, denounced by others, strongly supported by a few, and eagerly discussed by all. Nor was it known that the slim, handsome, black-eyed lad was one of the first grandees of Spain, inheritor of a great dukedom with all its wealth, honors, and responsibilities.

On every hand the sights and sounds were enchanting to Diego and Don Felipe. Before them rose the splendid walled city of Granada, the Moorish flag with its silver crescent floating from the highest point of the citadel. The gilded domes and minarets of the doomed city glittered in the noonday light. On one side the ground fell away abruptly into a long, narrow gorge, through which the little river Xeni flowed, bridged in many places. On the opposite heights the improvised city of Santa Fé stretched away, grimly watchful of the Moorish stronghold. Beyond that still were the long lines of the encamped armies of Castile and Arragon. All the troops were under arms to greet the Queen. In a large open space between the armies was a splendid pavilion, of painted linen outside and luxuriously equipped inside, which King Ferdinand had caused to be prepared for his Queen. Over it hung the Gonfalon, the gorgeous banner of the two kingdoms, bearing on one side the Castilian coat-of-arms and on the other that of Arragon. From this camp first came a vast cavalcade of royal princes, nobles, knights, and soldiers, halberdiers and harquebusiers to meet the Queen and her party. Among them rode a number of ladies, of whom Doña Christina was one.

As the procession wound its way over the plain toward the narrow road that led from the plateau into the lower country, music rang out, flags and banners fluttered gaily, and the armored knights seemed clad in gold, as the sunlight gleamed upon their coats of chain mail. First came a band of musicians playing the national hymns, followed by the trumpeters with their silver trumpets. Then came the heralds in their gorgeously embroidered coats, followed by a group of the chief officers of state and the highest nobles in Spain, all superbly mounted. Next came the ecclesiastics, headed by the great Cardinal Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, afterward the firm friend of the Admiral. In an open space, surrounded by the princes of his house, rode King Ferdinand, a man of splendid appearance, a soldier as well as a statesman. He rode a magnificent charger and was all smiles, bowing to the applause of the thousands of spectators. After him rode Prince Juan, who, to Diego and Don Felipe, was so far the most interesting person who had yet appeared. He was about their own age, extremely handsome, with an expression the most winning, a true son of his mother, the great Queen Isabella. Diego thought it would not be hard to serve so gallant and so gentle a young man.

Behind them came a guard of honor, consisting of the foremost knights in Spain. Toward the end rode three young knights abreast who deeply interested Diego. The first was his friend, Don Tomaso de Gama, looking every inch a knight. On one side rode a dark young man, not handsome, but with a soldier’s eye. This was Gonzalez de Cordova, afterward the celebrated general who won deathless glory in Italy. On the other side rode the most beautiful knight Diego had ever seen. He looked the embodiment of beauty, such as the Greek sculptors gave to their young gods. It was Ponce de Leon, later on to discover Porto Rico and Florida in his search for the fabled Bimini—the fountain of perpetual youth. It was Don Felipe who gave Diego the names of these and many others in the gorgeous cavalcade.

When the procession reached the edge of the plateau it halted, the music was hushed, and a deep silence of expectancy followed. Presently, from the narrow gorge beneath, floated the sweet sound of the silver trumpets, which was the signal of the Queen’s approach. Instantly from the brazen throats of the King’s trumpets came a joyous response. Soon the head of the Queen’s procession came into view. It was as splendid, though not so large, as that of the King. The Queen, after the fashion of the time, was mounted on a mule, splendidly caparisoned. Queen Isabella wore a superb riding costume of black velvet with a hat and feathers, and across her breast and on her slender arms was a delicate gold chain armor, showing that this great and noble Queen, this tender wife and devoted mother, was also a warrior and a sovereign. On her right, similarly mounted, was the Princess Katharine, afterward the noble and unfortunate wife of the eighth Henry of England.

When Queen Isabella reached the plateau King Ferdinand spurred his charger forward, but stopped when about twenty yards off and dismounted, approaching his wife with deep respect. Although devotedly attached to each other, King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella were yet independent sovereigns, and the great Queen was the last person in the world to abate any of the honors and dignity due to her country and herself as its Queen.

Prince Juan and every one else dismounted.