Book: Leila or, The Siege of Granada, Book II.
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Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Leila or, The Siege of Granada, Book II.
"I do; and am prepared for what I have foreseen." The queen grew pale,
but continued silent.
Muza resumed--
"Lord of the faithful!" said he, "if yestermorn I had acted otherwise, it
would have been to the ruin of thy throne and our common race. The
fierce Zegris suspected and learned my capture. They summoned the troops
they delivered me, it is true. At that time had I reasoned with them, it
would have been as drops upon a flame. They were bent on besieging thy
palace, perhaps upon demanding thy abdication. I could not stifle their
fury, but I could direct it. In the moment of passion, I led them from
rebellion against our common king to victory against our common foe.
That duty done, I come unscathed from the sword of the Christian to bare
my neck to the bowstring of my friend. Alone, untracked, unsuspected, I
have entered thy palace to prove to the sovereign of Granada, that the
defendant of his throne is not a rebel to his will. Now summon the
guards--I have done."
"Muza!" said Boabdil, in a softened voice, while he shaded his face with
his hand, "we played together as children, and I have loved thee well: my
kingdom even now, perchance, is passing from me, but I could almost be
reconciled to that loss, if I thought thy loyalty had not left me."
"Dost thou, in truth, suspect the faith of Muza Ben Abil Gazan?" said the
Moorish prince, in a tone of surprise and sorrow. "Unhappy king! I
deemed that my services, and not my defection, made my crime."
"Why do my people hate me? why do my armies menace?" said Boabdil,
evasively; "why should a subject possess that allegiance which a king
cannot obtain?"
"Because," replied Muza, boldly, "the king has delegated to a subject the
command he should himself assume. Oh, Boabdil!" he continued,
passionately--"friend of my boyhood, ere the evil days came upon us,--
gladly would I sink to rest beneath the dark waves of yonder river, if
thy arm and brain would fill up my place amongst the warriors of Granada.
And think not I say this only from our boyish love; think not I have
placed my life in thy hands only from that servile loyalty to a single
man, which the false chivalry of Christendom imposes as a sacred creed
upon its knights and nobles. But I speak and act but from one principle
--to save the religion of, my father and the land of my birth: for this I
have risked my life against the foe; for this I surrender my life to the
sovereign of my country. Granada may yet survive, if monarch and people
unite together. Granada is lost for ever, if her children, at this fatal
hour, are divided against themselves. If, then, I, O Boabdil! am the
true obstacle to thy league with thine own subjects, give me at once to
the bowstring, and my sole prayer shall be for the last remnant of the
Moorish name, and the last monarch of the Moorish dynasty."
"My son, my son! art thou convinced at last?" cried the queen, struggling
with her tears; for she was one who wept easily at heroic sentiments, but
never at the softer sorrows, or from the more womanly emotions.
Boabdil lifted his head with a vain and momentary attempt at pride; his
eye glanced from his mother to his friend, and his better feelings gushed
upon him with irresistible force; he threw himself into Muza's arms.
"Forgive me," he said, in broken accents, "forgive me! How could I have
wronged thee thus? Yes," he continued, as he started from the noble
breast on which for a moment he indulged no ungenerous weakness,--"yes,
prince, your example shames, but it fires me. Granada henceforth shall
have two chieftains; and if I be jealous of thee, it shall be from an
emulation thou canst not blame. Guards, retire. Mesnour! ho, Mesnour!
Proclaim at daybreak that I myself will review the troops in the
Vivarrambla. Yet"--and, as he spoke his voice faltered, and his brow
became overcast, "yet stay, seek me thyself at daybreak, and I will give
thee my commands."
"Oh, my son! why hesitate?" cried the queen, "why waver? Prosecute thine
own kingly designs, and--"
"Hush, madam," said Boabdil, regaining his customary cold composure; "and
since you are now satisfied with your son, leave me alone with Muza."
The queen sighed heavily; but there was something in the calm of Boabdil
which chilled and awed her more than his bursts of passion. She drew her
veil around her, and passed slowly and reluctantly from the chamber.
"Muza," said Boabdil, when alone with the prince, and fixing his large
and thoughtful eyes upon the dark orbs of his companion,--"when, in our
younger days, we conversed together, do you remember how often that
converse turned upon those solemn and mysterious themes to which the
sages of our ancestral land directed their deepest lore; the enigmas of
the stars--the science of fate--the wild searches into the clouded
future, which hides the destines of nations and of men? Thou
rememberest, Muza, that to such studies mine own vicissitudes and
sorrows, even in childhood--the strange fortunes which gave me in my
cradle the epithet of El Zogoybi--the ominous predictions of santons and
astrologers as to the trials of my earthly fate,--all contributed to
incline my soul. Thou didst not despise those earnest musings, nor our
ancestral lore, though, unlike me, ever more inclined to action than to
contemplation, that which thou mightest believe had little influence upon
what thou didst design. With me it hath been otherwise; every event of
life hath conspired to feed my early prepossessions; and, in this awful
crisis of my fate, I have placed myself and my throne rather under the
guardianship of spirits than of men. This alone has reconciled me to
inaction--to the torpor of the Alhambra--to the mutinies of my people.
I have smiled, when foes surround and friends deserted me, secure of the
aid at last--if I bided but the fortunate hour--of the charms of
protecting spirits, and the swords of the invisible creation. Thou
wonderest what this should lead to. Listen! Two nights since (and the
king shuddered) I was with the dead! My father appeared before me--not
as I knew him in life--gaunt and terrible, full of the vigour of health,
and the strength of kingly empire, and of fierce passion--but wan, calm,
shadowy. From lips on which Azrael had set his livid seal, he bade me
beware of thee!"
The king ceased suddenly; and sought to read on the face of Muza the
effect his words produced. But the proud and swarthy features of the
Moor evinced no pang of conscience; a slight smile of pity might have
crossed his lip for a moment, but it vanished ere the king could detect
it. Boabdil continued:
"Under the influence of this warning, I issued the order for thy arrest.
Let this pass--I resume my tale. I attempted to throw myself at the
spectre's feet--it glided from me, motionless and impalpable. I asked
the Dead One if he forgave his unhappy son the sin of rebellion alas!
too well requited even upon earth. And the voice again came forth, and
bade me keep the crown that I had gained, as the sole atonement for the
past. Then again I asked, whether the hour for action had arrived! and
the spectre, while it faded gradually into air, answered, 'No!' 'Oh!' I
exclaimed, 'ere thou leavest me, be one sign accorded me, that I have not
dreamt this vision; and give me, I pray thee, note and warning, when the
evil star of Boabdil shall withhold its influence, and he may strike,
without resistance from the Powers above, for his glory and his throne.'
'The sign and the warning are bequeathed thee,' answered the ghostly
image. It vanished,--thick darkness fell around; and, when once more the
light of the lamps we bore became visible, behold there stood before me
a skeleton, in the regal robe of the kings of Granada, and on its grisly
head was the imperial diadem. With one hand raised, it pointed to the
opposite wall, wherein burned, like an orb of gloomy fire, a broad dial-
plate, on which were graven these words, BEWARE--FEAR NOT--ARM! The
finger of the dial moved rapidly round, and rested at the word beware.
From that hour to the one in which I last beheld it, it hath not moved.
Muza, the tale is done; wilt thou visit with me this enchanted chamber,
and see if the hour be come?"
"Commander of the faithful," said Muza, "the story is dread and awful.
But pardon thy friend--wert thou alone, or was the santon Almamen thy
companion?"
"Why the question?" said Boabdil, evasively, and slightly colouring.
"I fear his truth," answered Muza; "the Christian king conquers more foes
by craft than force; and his spies are more deadly than his warriors.
Wherefore this caution against me, but (pardon me) for thine own undoing?
Were I a traitor, could Ferdinand himself have endangered thy crown so
imminently as the revenge of the leader of thine own armies? Why, too,
this desire to keep thee inactive? For the brave every hour hath its
chances; but, for us, every hour increases our peril. If we seize not
the present time,--our supplies are cut off,--and famine is a foe all our
valour cannot resist. This dervise--who is he? a stranger, not of our
race and blood. But this morning I found him without the walls, not far
from the Spaniard's camp."
"Ha!" cried the king, quickly, "and what said he?"
"Little, but in hints; sheltering himself, by loose hints, under thy
name."
"He! what dared he own?--Muza, what were those hints?"
The Moor here recounted the interview with Almamen, his detention, his
inactivity in the battle, and his subsequent capture by the Spaniards.
The king listened attentively, and regained his composure.
"It is a strange and awful man," said he after a pause. "Guards and
chains will not detain him. Ere long he will return. But thou, at
least, Muza, are henceforth free, alike from the suspicion of the living
and the warnings of the dead. No, my friend," continued Boabdil, with
generous warmth, "it is better to lose a crown, to lose life itself, than
confidence in a heart like thine. Come, let us inspect this magic
tablet; perchance--and how my heart bounds as I utter the hope!--the hour
may have arrived."
CHAPTER IV.
A FULLER VIEW OF THE CHARACTER OF BOABDIL.--MUZA IN THE GARDENS OF HIS
BELOVED.
Muza Ben Abil Gazan returned from his visit to Boabdil with a thoughtful
and depressed spirit. His arguments had failed to induce the king to
disdain the command of the magic dial, which still forbade him to arm
against the invaders; and although the royal favour was no longer
withdrawn from himself, the Moor felt that such favour hung upon a
capricious and uncertain tenure so long as his sovereign was the slave of
superstition or imposture. But that noble warrior, whose character the
adversity of his country had singularly exalted and refined, even while
increasing its natural fierceness, thought little of himself in
comparison with the evils and misfortunes which the king's continued
irresolution must bring upon Granada.
"So brave, and yet so weak," thought he; "so weak, and yet so obstinate;
so wise a reasoner, yet so credulous a dupe! Unhappy Boabdil! the stars,
indeed, seem to fight against thee, and their influences at thy birth
marred all thy gifts and virtues with counteracting infirmity and error."
Muza,--more perhaps than any subject in Granada,--did justice to the real
character of the king; but even he was unable to penetrate all its
complicated and latent mysteries. Boabdil el Chico was no ordinary man;
his affections were warm and generous, his nature calm and gentle; and,
though early power, and the painful experience of a mutinous people and
ungrateful court, had imparted to that nature an irascibility of temper
and a quickness of suspicion foreign to its earlier soil, he was easily
led back to generosity and justice; and, if warm in resentment, was
magnanimous in forgiveness. Deeply accomplished in all the learning of
his race and time, he was--in books, at least--a philosopher; and,
indeed, his attachment to the abstruser studies was one of the main
causes which unfitted him for his present station. But it was the
circumstances attendant on his birth and childhood that had perverted his
keen and graceful intellect to morbid indulgence in mystic reveries, and
all the doubt, fear, and irresolution of a man who pushes metaphysics
into the supernatural world. Dark prophecies accumulated omens over his
head; men united in considering him born to disastrous destinies.
Whenever he had sought to wrestle against hostile circumstances, some
seemingly accidental cause, sudden and unforeseen, had blasted the
labours of his most vigorous energy,--the fruit of his most deliberate
wisdom. Thus, by degrees a gloomy and despairing cloud settled over his
mind; but, secretly sceptical of the Mohammedan creed, and too proud and
sanguine to resign himself wholly and passively to the doctrine of
inevitable predestination, he sought to contend against the machinations
of hostile demons and boding stars, not by human but spiritual agencies.
Collecting around him the seers and magicians of orient-fanaticism, he
lived in the visions of another world; and, flattered by the promises of
impostors or dreamers, and deceived by his own subtle and brooding
tendencies of mind, it was amongst spells and cabala that he thought to
draw forth the mighty secret which was to free him from the meshes of the
preternatural enemies of his fortune, and leave him the freedom of other
men to wrestle, with equal chances, against peril and adversities. It
was thus, that Almamen had won the mastery over his mind; and, though
upon matters of common and earthly import, or solid learning, Boabdil
could contend with sages, upon those of superstition he could be fooled
by a child. He was, in this, a kind of Hamlet: formed, under prosperous
and serene fortunes, to render blessings and reap renown; but over whom
the chilling shadow of another world had fallen--whose soul curdled back
into itself--whose life had been separated from that of the herd--whom
doubts and awe drew back, while circumstances impelled onward--whom a
supernatural doom invested with a peculiar philosophy, not of human
effect and cause--and who, with every gift that could ennoble and adorn,
was suddenly palsied into that mortal imbecility, which is almost ever
the result of mortal visitings into the haunted regions of the Ghostly
and Unknown. The gloomier colourings of his mind had been deepened, too,
by secret remorse. For the preservation of his own life, constantly
threatened by his unnatural predecessor, he had been early driven into
rebellion against his father. In age, infirmity, and blindness, that
fierce king had been made a prisoner at Salobrena by his brother, El
Zagal, Boabdil's partner in rebellion; and dying suddenly, El Zagal was
suspected of his murder. Though Boabdil was innocent of such a crime,
he felt himself guilty of the causes which led to it; and a dark memory,
resting upon his conscience, served to augment his superstition and
enervate the vigour of his resolves; for, of all things that make men
dreamers, none is so effectual as remorse operating upon a thoughtful
temperament.
Revolving the character of his sovereign, and sadly foreboding the ruin
of his country, the young hero of Granada pursued his way, until his
steps, almost unconsciously, led him towards the abode of Leila. He
scaled the walls of the garden as before--he neared the house. All was
silent and deserted; his signal was unanswered--his murmured song brought
no grateful light to the lattice, no fairy footstep to the balcony.
Dejected, and sad of heart, he retired from the spot; and, returning
home, sought a couch, to which even all the fatigue and excitement he had
undergone, could not win the forgetfulness of slumber. The mystery that
wrapt the maiden of his homage, the rareness of their interviews, and the
wild and poetical romance that made a very principle of the chivalry of
the Spanish Moors, had imparted to Muza's love for Leila a passionate
depth, which, at this day, and in more enervated climes, is unknown to
the Mohammedan lover. His keenest inquiries had been unable to pierce
the secret of her birth and station. Little of the inmates of that
guarded and lonely house was known in the neighbourhood; the only one
ever seen without its walls was an old man of the Jewish faith, supposed
to be a superintendent of the foreign slaves (for no Mohammedan slave
would have been subjected to the insult of submission to a Jew); and
though there were rumours of the vast wealth and gorgeous luxury within
the mansion, it was supposed the abode of some Moorish emir absent from
the city--and the interest of the gossips was at this time absorbed in
more weighty matters than the affairs of a neighbour. But when, the next
eve, and the next, Muza returned to the spot equally in vain, his
impatience and alarm could no longer be restrained; he resolved to lie in
watch by the portals of the house night and day, until, at least, he
could discover some one of the inmates, whom he could question of his
love, and perhaps bribe to his service. As with this resolution he was
hovering round the mansion, he beheld, stealing from a small door in one
of the low wings of the house, a bended and decrepit form: it supported
its steps upon a staff; and, as now entering the garden, it stooped by
the side of a fountain to cull flowers and herbs by the light of the
moon, the Moor almost started to behold a countenance which resembled
that of some ghoul or vampire haunting the places of the dead. He smiled
at his own fear; and, with a quick and stealthy pace, hastened through
the trees, and, gaining the spot where the old man bent, placed his hand
on his shoulder ere his presence was perceived.
Ximen--for it was he--looked round eagerly, and a faint cry of terror
broke from his lips.
"Hush!" said the Moor; "fear me not, I am a friend. Thou art old, man--
gold is ever welcome to the aged." As he spoke, he dropped several broad
pieces into the breast of the Jew, whose ghastly features gave forth a
yet more ghastly smile, as he received the gift, and mumbled forth,
"Charitable young man! generous, benevolent, excellent young man!"
"Now then," said Muza, "tell me--you belong to this house--Leila, the
maiden within--tell me of her--is she well?"
"I trust so," returned the Jew; "I trust so, noble master."
"Trust so! know you not of her state?"
"Not I; for many nights I have not seen her, excellent sir," answered
Ximen; "she hath left Granada, she hath gone. You waste your time and
mar your precious health amidst these nightly dews: they are unwholesome,
very unwholesome at the time of the new moon."
"Gone!" echoed the Moor; "left Granada!--woe is me!--and whither?--there,
there, more gold for you,--old man, tell me whither?"
"Alas! I know not, most magnanimous young man; I am but a servant--I know
nothing."
"When will she return?"
"I cannot tell thee."
"Who is thy master? who owns yon mansion?"
Ximen's countenance fell; he looked round in doubt and fear, and then,
after a short pause, answered,--"A wealthy man, good sir--a Moor of
Africa; but he hath also gone; he but seldom visits us; Granada is not so
peaceful a residence as it was,--I would go too, if I could."
Muza released his hold of Ximen, who gazed at the Moor's working
countenance with a malignant smile--for Ximen hated all men.
"Thou hast done with me, young warrior? Pleasant dreams to thee under
the new moon--thou hadst best retire to thy bed. Farewell! bless thy
charity to the poor old man!"
Muza heard him not; he remained motionless for some moments; and then
with a heavy sigh as that of one who has gained the mastery of himself
after a bitter struggle, the said half aloud, "Allah be with thee, Leila!
Granada now is my only mistress."
CHAPTER V.
BOABDIL'S RECONCILIATION WITH HIS PEOPLE.
Several days had elapsed without any encounter between Moor and
Christian; for Ferdinand's cold and sober policy, warned by the loss he
had sustained in the ambush of Muza, was now bent on preserving rigorous
restraint upon the fiery spirits he commanded. He forbade all parties of
skirmish, in which the Moors, indeed, had usually gained the advantage,
and contented himself with occupying all the passes through which
provisions could arrive at the besieged city. He commenced strong
fortifications around his camp; and, forbidding assault on the Moors,
defied it against himself.
Meanwhile, Almamen had not returned to Granada. No tidings of his fate
reached the king; and his prolonged disappearance began to produce
visible and salutary effect upon the long-dormant energies of Boabdil.
The counsels of Muza, the exhortations of the queen-mother, the
enthusiasm of his mistress, Amine, uncounteracted by the arts of the
magician, aroused the torpid lion of his nature. But still his army and
his subjects murmured against him; and his appearance in the Vivarrambla
might possibly be the signal of revolt. It was at this time that a most
fortunate circumstance at once restored to him the confidence and
affections of his people. His stern uncle, El Zagal--once a rival for
his crown, and whose daring valour, mature age, and military sagacity had
won him a powerful party within the city--had been, some months since,
conquered by Ferdinand; and, in yielding the possessions he held, had
been rewarded with a barren and dependent principality. His defeat, far
from benefiting Boabdil, had exasperated the Moors against their king.
"For," said they, almost with one voice, "the brave El Zagal never would
have succumbed had Boabdil properly supported his arms." And it was the
popular discontent and rage at El Zagal's defeat which had indeed served
Boabdil with a reasonable excuse for shutting himself in the strong
fortress of the Alhambra. It now happened that El Zagal, whose dominant
passion was hatred of his nephew, and whose fierce nature chafed at its
present cage, resolved in his old age to blast all his former fame by a
signal treason to his country. Forgetting everything but revenge against
his nephew, who he was resolved should share his own ruin, he armed his
subjects, crossed the country, and appeared at the head of a gallant
troop in the Spanish camp, an ally with Ferdinand against Granada. When
this was heard by the Moors, it is impossible to conceive their indignant
wrath: the crime of El Zagal produced an instantaneous reaction in favour
of Boabdil; the crowd surrounded the Alhambra and with prayers and tears
entreated the forgiveness of the king. This event completed the conquest
of Boabdil over his own irresolution. He ordained an assembly of the
whole army in the broad space of the Vivarrambla: and when at break of
day he appeared in full armour in the square, with Muza at his right
hand, himself in the flower of youthful beauty, and proud to feel once
more a hero and a king, the joy of the people knew no limit; the air was
rent with cries of "Long live Boabdil el Chico!" and the young monarch,
turning to Muza, with his soul upon his brow exclaimed, "The hour has
come--I am no longer El Zogoybi!"
CHAPTER V.
LEILA.--HER NEW LOVER.--PORTRAIT OF THE FIRST INQUISITOR OF SPAIN.--THE
CHALICE RETURNED TO THE LIPS OF ALMAMEN.
While thus the state of events within Granada, the course of our story
transports us back to the Christian camp. It was in one of a long line
of tents that skirted the pavilion of Isabel, and was appropriated to the
ladies attendant on the royal presence, that a young female sat alone.
The dusk of evening already gathered around, and only the outline of her
form and features was visible. But even that, imperfectly seen,--the
dejected attitude of the form, the drooping head, the hands clasped upon
the knees,--might have sufficed to denote the melancholy nature of the
reverie which the maid indulged.
"Ah," thought she, "to what danger am I exposed! If my father, if my
lover dreamed of the persecution to which their poor Leila is abandoned!"
A few tears, large and bitter, broke from her eyes, and stole unheeded
down her cheek. At that moment, the deep and musical chime of a bell was
heard summoning the chiefs of the army to prayer; for Ferdinand invested
all his worldly schemes with a religious covering, and to his politic war
he sought to give the imposing character of a sacred crusade.
"That sound," thought she, sinking on her knees, "summons the Nazarenes
to the presence of their God. It reminds me, a captive by the waters of
Babylon, that God is ever with the friendless. Oh! succour and defend
me, Thou who didst look of old upon Ruth standing amidst the corn, and
didst watch over Thy chosen people in the hungry wilderness, and in the
stranger's land."
Wrapt in her mute and passionate devotions, Leila remained long in her
touching posture. The bell had ceased; all without was hushed and still
--when the drapery, stretched across the opening of the tent, was lifted,
and a young Spaniard, cloaked, from head to foot, in a long mantle, stood
within the space. He gazed in silence, upon the kneeling maiden; nor was
it until she rose that he made his presence audible.