Part 7 (1/2)
”May the king live for ever!” said Amine, timidly; ”his armies have gone forth to conquer.”
”But without their king,” replied Boabdil, bitterly, ”and headed by a traitor and a foe. I am meshed in the nets of an inextricable fate!”
”Oh!” said the slave, with sudden energy, as, clasping her hands, she rose from her couch,--”oh, my lord, would that these humble lips dared utter other words than those of love!”
”And what wise counsel would they give me?” asked Boabdil with a faint smile. ”Speak on.”
”I will obey thee, then, even if it displease,” cried Amine; and she rose, her cheek glowing, her eyes spark ling, her beautiful form dilated. ”I am a daughter of Granada; I am the beloved of a king; I will be true to my birth and to my fortunes. Boabdil el Chico, the last of a line of heroes, shake off these gloomy fantasies--these doubts and dreams that smother the fire of a great nature and a kingly soul!
Awake--arise--rob Granada of her Muza--be thyself her Muza! Trustest thou to magic and to spells? then grave them on they breastplate, write them on thy sword, and live no longer the Dreamer of the Alhambra; become the saviour of thy people!”
Boabdil turned, and gazed on the inspired and beautiful form before him with mingled emotions of surprise and shame. ”Out of the mouth of woman cometh my rebuke!” said he sadly. ”It is well!”
”Pardon me, pardon me!” said the slave, falling humbly at his knees; ”but blame me not that I would have thee worthy of thyself. Wert thou not happier, was not thy heart more light and thy hope more strong when, at the head of thine armies, thine own cimiter slew thine own foes, and the terror of the Hero-king spread, in flame and slaughter, from the mountains to the seas. Boabdil! dear as thou art to me-equally as I would have loved thee hadst thou been born a lowly fisherman of the Darro, since thou art a king, I would have thee die a king; even if my own heart broke as I armed thee for thy latest battle!”
”Thou knowest not what thou sayest, Amine,” said Boabdil, ”nor canst thou tell what spirits that are not of earth dictate to the actions and watch over the destinies, of the rulers of nations. If I delay, if I linger, it is not from terror, but from wisdom. The cloud must gather on, dark and slow, ere the moment for the thunderbolt arrives.”
”On thine own house will the thunderbolt fall, since over thine own house thou sufferest the cloud to gather,” said a calm and stern voice.
Boabdil started; and in the chamber stood a third person, in the shape of a woman, past middle age, and of commanding port and stature. Upon her long-descending robes of embroidered purple were thickly woven jewels of royal price, and her dark hair, slightly tinged with grey, parted over a majestic brow while a small diadem surmounted the folds of the turban.
”My mother!” said Boabdil, with some haughty reserve in his tone; ”your presence is unexpected.”
”Ay,” answered Ayxa la Horra, for it was indeed that celebrated, and haughty, and high-souled queen, ”and unwelcome; so is ever that of your true friends. But not thus unwelcome was the presence of your mother, when her brain and her hand delivered you from the dungeon in which your stern father had cast your youth, and the dagger and the bowl seemed the only keys that would unlock the cell.”
”And better hadst thou left the ill-omened son that thy womb conceived, to die thus in youth, honoured and lamented, than to live to manhood, wrestling against an evil star and a relentless fate.”
”Son,” said the queen, gazing upon him with lofty and half disdainful compa.s.sion, ”men's conduct shapes out their own fortunes, and the unlucky are never the valiant and the wise.”
”Madam,” said Boabdil, colouring with pa.s.sion, ”I am still a king, nor will I be thus bearded--withdraw!”
Ere the queen could reply, a eunuch entered, and whispered Boabdil.
”Ha!” said he, joyfully, stamping his foot, ”comes he then to brave the lion in his den? Let the rebel look to it. Is he alone?”
”Alone, great king.”
”Bid my guards wait without; let the slightest signal summon them.
Amine, retire! Madam--”
”Son!” interrupted Ayxa la Horra in visible agitation, ”do I guess aright? is the brave Muza--the sole bulwark and hope of Granada--whom unjustly thou wouldst last night have placed in chains--(chains! Great Prophet! is it thus a king should reward his heroes)--is, I say, Muza here? and wilt thou make him the victim of his own generous trust?”
”Retire, woman?” said Boabdil, sullenly.
”I will not, save by force! I resisted a fiercer soul than thine when I saved thee from thy father.”
”Remain, then, if thou wilt, and learn how kings can punish traitors.
Mesnour, admit the hero of Granada.” Amine had vanished. Boabdil seated himself on the cus.h.i.+ons his face calm but pale. The queen stood erect at a little distance, her arms folded on her breast, and her aspect knit and resolute. In a few moments Muza entered alone. He approached the king with the profound salutation of oriental obeisance; and then stood before him with downcast eyes, in an att.i.tude from which respect could not divorce a natural dignity and pride of mien.
”Prince,” said Boabdil, after a moment's pause, ”yestermorn, when I sent for thee thou didst brave my orders. Even in mine own Alhambra thy minions broke out in mutiny; they surrounded the fortress in which thou wert to wait my pleasure; they intercepted, they insulted, they drove back my guards; they stormed the towers protected by the banner of thy king. The governor, a coward or a traitor, rendered thee to the rebellious crowd. Was this all? No, by the Prophet! Thou, by right my captive, didst leave thy prison but to head mine armies. And this day, the traitor subject--the secret foe--was the leader of a people who defy a king. This night thou comest to me unsought. Thou feelest secure from my just wrath, even in my palace. Thine insolence blinds and betrays thee. Man, thou art in my power! Ho, there!”
As the king spoke, he rose; and, presently, the arcades at the back of the pavilion were darkened by long lines of the Ethiopian guard, each of height which, beside the slight Moorish race, appeared gigantic; stolid and pa.s.sionless machines, to execute, without thought, the bloodiest or the slightest caprice of despotism. There they stood; their silver breastplates and long earrings contrasting their dusky skins; and bearing, over their shoulders, immense clubs studded with brazen nails.