Spain for the Sovereigns (51 page)

Ferdinand stopped writing and smiled. If Boabdil and his counsellors accepted these terms he would be content. Lives and – what was more important to Ferdinand – money would be saved by a quick surrender. It was by no means certain how long the war would last, even though at the moment the Christians had all the advantages.

Eagerly he awaited the reply.

In his private apartments of the Alhambra, Boabdil read the Sovereigns’ terms and rejoiced. He had saved the people of Granada from the fate which had befallen those of Malaga, and he believed that that was the best he could hope for.

The Sultana Zoraya was going about the town urging the people to stand firm. With flashing eyes and strong words she assured them that the battle against the Christian armies was not yet lost.

‘You lose heart,’ she cried, ‘because you see them encamped outside our walls. But you should not lose heart. Allah will not desert us in our hour of need.’

‘Boabdil deserts us,’ was the answer. ‘So how can we expect Allah to smile upon us?’

They whispered among themselves. ‘Boabdil is a traitor. He is the friend of the Christian Sovereigns. He seeks concessions for himself, and will betray us to get them.’

Revolt was stirring in the city, for it was rumoured that Boabdil was carrying on secret negotiations with the enemy.

Zoraya stormed into her son’s apartment. She told him that the people were murmuring against him.

‘They talk foolishly. They say you are negotiating with the enemy. These rumours do our cause great harm.’

‘They must be stopped, my mother,’ he said.

And later he sent word to Ferdinand.

All his terms were accepted; but there should be no delay. They must come with all speed to prevent revolt within the walls of Granada. If they did not, they might arrive to find their friend Boabdil assassinated, and the treaty flung in their faces.

There was rejoicing throughout Santa Fe.

Preparations had begun for the entry into Granada.

The Cardinal Mendoza, surrounded by troops, rode into the city that he might occupy the Alhambra and prepare it for the entry of the Sovereigns.

He ascended the Hill of Martyrs and to meet him rode Boabdil surrounded by fifty Moorish noblemen.

The vanquished Boabdil rode past the Cardinal towards Ferdinand, who, surrounded by his guards, had taken up a position in the rear of the Cardinal and his men.

On his black horse Boabdil was a pathetic figure; his tunic was green decorated with gold ornaments, his white
haik
flowed about his shoulders, and his gentle face wore an expression of infinite sadness.

He dismounted when he reached Ferdinand, and would have thrown himself at the conqueror’s feet. Ferdinand, however, leaped from his horse and embraced Boabdil; he veiled the triumph in his eyes and assumed an expression of great sympathy.

Boabdil said that all might hear: ‘I bring you the keys of the Alhambra. They belong to you, O King of the Christians. Allah decrees that it should be so. I beg you to show clemency to my sorrowing people.’

Boabdil then prostrated himself before Ferdinand, and turning went to Isabella, who was some short distance behind Ferdinand, and made similar obeisance to her.

He then left her and rode towards the sad group who were waiting for him. This was his family, at the head of which was the angry Zoraya.

‘Come,’ said Boabdil. ‘Now is the time to say farewell to Granada and greatness.’

Zoraya was about to speak, but, with a gesture full of dignity, Boabdil signed for all to fall in behind him; and spurring his horse, he galloped away in the direction of the Alpujarras.

On he rode, followed by his family and those of his courtiers and troops whom he had been allowed to take with him.

At the hill called Padul he stopped. This was the last point from which he could hope to see Granada in all its glory.

He looked back to that most beautiful of cities – the city which had once been the capital of his kingdom and was now lost to him.

His emotions overcame him, and the tears began to flow down his cheeks.

Zoraya pushed her horse beside his.

‘Weep!’ she cried. ‘Weep! It is what we expect of you. Weep like a woman for the city you could not defend like a man!’

Boabdil turned his horse, and the melancholy cavalcade moved on. Boabdil did not look back on the city he would never see again.

Meanwhile Isabella and Ferdinand, side by side, made their triumphant entry into the city, where the streets had already been anointed with holy water that it might be washed clean of the contamination of Infidels.

Magnificently clad, the Sovereigns rode at the head of the cavalcade. They both realised the need to impress with their grandeur the people of Granada, who had been used to the splendour of their Sultans. And although neither Isabella nor Ferdinand cared for fine clothing and outward displays of riches, they were determined to appear at their most magnificent on this progress through the city.

Christian troops lined the hill-road leading to the Alhambra and, raising her eyes, Isabella saw that which she had determined to see since, as a girl, she had made her solemn vows. The flag of Christian Spain was flying over the Alhambra; the last Moorish stronghold in Spain had capitulated, and the reconquest was complete.

Joyous shouts filled the air.

‘Granada! Granada for the Kings – Isabella and Ferdinand!’

Chapter V

C
ristobal Colon had arrived at Santa Fe in time to see the triumphant procession.

A day after the Sovereigns had made their entry and taken formal possession of the city he was brought to their presence by Beatriz de Bobadilla.

Cristobal’s hopes were high, for the war was over, and it was the war which had made them hesitate.

Again he described all that he hoped to do; to Isabella he stressed the importance of conquering new lands that poor ignorant savages might be brought into the Christian fold; to Ferdinand he talked of the riches which these countries must contain.

The Sovereigns were excited.

‘Your Highnesses will understand,’ said Cristobal, ‘that I must be granted certain concessions.’

‘These concessions are?’ Ferdinand demanded.

‘I should ask to be made Admiral of the lands I discover during my lifetime, and that on my death this title should be the right of my heirs.’

Isabella, shocked, caught her breath. The title of Admiral was only bestowed on members of the nobility, and the Admiral of Castile was now Don Alonso Enriquez, Ferdinand’s own uncle. Yet here was this humble sailor asking for a noble title!

Ferdinand’s face had hardened also. It seemed to the Sovereigns that this man was insolent.

Cristobal went on serenely: ‘I should be Governor and Viceroy of the discovered lands.’

‘You do not know,’ said Ferdinand coldly, ‘but how could you – not being conversant with the ways of the Court – that it is the Sovereign’s prerogative to choose and dismiss governors and viceroys.’

‘I know it, Highness,’ went on Cristobal stubbornly. ‘I should also need one-tenth of all the treasure I bring back, and one-eighth share in every expedition which leaves Spain for the Indies. If any dispute should arise concerning this, the right should be mine to appoint judges to try the case, and their decision should be final. I would also ask for a place at Court for my son.’

The Sovereigns were dumbfounded. Isabella recovered her composure first.

‘Señor Colon,’ she said, ‘these demands astonish us. You may leave us now, and we will discuss them; and in time you will hear our decision.’

Cristobal bowed low. He said: ‘Highness, I would beg you not to delay the decision, for I have news that I should be very welcome at the Court of France.’

He then left the presence of the Sovereigns.

‘Impudence!’ cried Ferdinand.

Talavera, who had been present, said: ‘Your Highnesses, the man should be sent about his business. Clearly he comes from the devil. Perhaps it would be advisable to hand him over to the Holy Office. They would discover what evil prompts him.’

‘He is a very bold man,’ commented Isabella, ‘but I think this boldness grows out of his certainty. I should like a little time to consider his claims, which we might induce him to modify.’

‘Your Highness heard what he said about the Court of France?’ cried Talavera.

‘Yes,’ answered Isabella. ‘But he will wait awhile, I think.’