LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES.
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In old times there reigned a Moorish king in
Granada, whose name was Mohamed, to which his
subjects added the appellation of El Haygari, or
“The Left-handed.” Some say he was so called
on account of his being really more expert with
his sinister than his dexter hand; others, because
he was prone to take every thing by the wrong
end, or in other words, to mar wherever he meddled.
Certain it is, either through misfortune or
mismanagement, he was continually in trouble:
thrice was he driven from his throne, and, on one
occasion, barely escaped to Africa with his life, in
the disguise of a fisherman. Still he was as brave
as he was blundering; and though left-handed,
wielded his cimeter to such purpose, that he each
time re-established himself upon his throne by
dint of hard fighting. Instead, however, of learning
wisdom from adversity, he hardened his neck,
and stiffened his left arm in wilfulness. The
evils of a public nature which he thus brought
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upon himself and his kingdom may be learned by
those who will delve into the Arabian annals of
Granada; the present legend deals but with his
domestic policy.
As this Mohamed was one day riding forth with
a train of his courtiers, by the foot of the mountain
of Elvira, he met a band of horsemen returning
from a foray into the land of the Christians.
They were conducting a long string of mules laden
with spoil, and many captives of both sexes,
among whom the monarch was struck with the
appearance of a beautiful damsel, richly attired, who
sat weeping on a low palfrey, and heeded not the
consoling words of a duenna who rode beside her.
The monarch was struck with her beauty, and,
on inquiring of the captain of the troop, found
that she was the daughter of the alcayde of a
frontier fortress, that had been surprised and
sacked in the course of the foray. Mohamed
claimed her as his royal share of the booty, and
had her conveyed to his harem in the Alhambra.
There every thing was devised to soothe her
melancholy; and the monarch, more and more
enamoured, sought to make her his queen. The
Spanish maid at first repulsed his addresses—he
was an infidel—he was the open foe of her country—
what was worse, he was stricken in years!
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The monarch, finding his assiduities of no avail,
determined to enlist in his favour the duenna, who
had been captured with the lady. She was an
Andalusian by birth, whose Christian name is forgotten,
being mentioned in Moorish legends by no
other appellation than that of the discreet Kadiga—
and discreet in truth she was, as her whole history
makes evident. No sooner had the Moorish
king held a little private conversation with her,
than she saw at once the cogency of his reasoning,
and undertook his cause with her young mistress.
“Go to, now!” cried she; “what is there in all
this to weep and wail about? Is it not better to
be mistress of this beautiful palace, with all its
gardens and fountains, than to be shut up within
your father's old frontier tower? As to this Mohamed
being an infidel, what is that to the purpose?
You marry him, not his religion: and if
he is waxing a little old, the sooner will you be a
widow, and mistress of yourself; at any rate, you
are in his power, and must either be a queen or a
slave. When in the hands of a robber, it is better
to sell one's merchandise for a fair price, than to
have it taken by main force.”
The arguments of the discreet Kadiga prevailed.
The Spanish lady dried her tears, and became the
spouse of Mohamed the Left-handed; she even
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conformed, in appearance, to the faith of her royal
husband; and her discreet duenna immediately
became a zealous convert to the Moslem doctrines:
it was then the latter received the Arabian name
of Kadiga, and was permitted to remain in the
confidential employ of her mistress.
In due process of time the Moorish king was
made the proud and happy father of three lovely
daughters, all born at a birth: he could have wished
they had been sons, but consoled himself with
the idea that three daughters at a birth were pretty
well for a man somewhat stricken in years, and
left-handed!
As usual with all Moslem monarchs, he summoned
his astrologers on this happy event. They
cast the nativities of the three princesses, and
shook their heads. “Daughters, O king!” said
they, “are always precarious property; but these
will most need your watchfulness when they
arrive at a marriageable age; at that time gather
them under your wings, and trust them to no
other guardianship.”
Mohamed the Left-handed was acknowledged
to be a wise king by his courtiers, and was certainly
so considered by himself. The prediction of
the astrologers caused him but little disquiet, trusting
to his ingenuity to guard his daughters and
outwit the Fates.
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The three-fold birth was the last matrimonial
trophy of the monarch; his queen bore him no
more children, and died within a few years, bequeathing
her infant daughters to his love, and to
the fidelity of the discreet Kadiga.
Many years had yet to elapse before the princesses
would arrive at that period of danger—the
marriageable age: “It is good, however, to be
cautious in time,” said the shrewd monarch; so
he determined to have them reared in the royal
castle of Salobreña. This was a sumptuous
palace, incrusted, as it were, in a powerful Moorish
fortress on the summit of a hill that overlooks
the Mediterranean sea. It was a royal retreat, in
which the Moslem monarchs shut up such of their
relations, as might endanger their safety, allowing
them all kinds of luxuries and amusements, in the
midst of which they passed their lives in voluptuous
indolence.
Here the princesses remained, immured from
the world, but surrounded by enjoyment, and
attended by female slaves who anticipated their
wishes. They had delightful gardens for their
recreation, filled with the rarest fruits and flowers,
with aromatic groves and perfumed paths. On
three sides the castle looked down upon a rich
valley, enamelled with all kinds of culture, and
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bounded by the lofted Alpuxarra mountains; on
the other side it overlooked the broad sunny sea.
In this delicious abode, in a propitious climate,
and under a cloudless sky, the three princesses
grew up into wondrous beauty; but, though all
reared alike, they gave early tokens of diversity of
character. Their names were Zayda, Zorayda, and
Zorahayda; and such was their order of seniority,
for there had been precisely three minutes between
their births.
Zayda, the eldest, was of an intrepid spirit, and
took the lead of her sisters in every thing, as she
had done in entering first into the world. She
was curious and inquisitive, and fond of getting at
the bottom of things.
Zorayda had a great feeling for beauty, which
was the reason, no doubt, of her delighting to
regard her own image in a mirror or a fountain,
and of her fondness for flowers, and jewels, and
other tasteful ornaments.
As to Zorahayda, the youngest, she was soft and
timid, and extremely sensitive, with a vast deal
of disposable tenderness, as was evident from her
number of pet-flowers, and pet-birds, and pet-animals,
all of which she cherished with the fondest
care. Her amusements, too, were of a gentle
nature, and mixed up with musing and reverie.
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She would sit for hours in a balcony, gazing on
the sparkling stars of a summer's night; or on
the sea when lit up by the moon; and at such
times, the song of a fisherman, faintly heard from
the beach, or the notes of a Moorish flute from
some gliding bark, sufficed to elevate her feelings
into ecstasy. The least uproar of the elements,
however, filled her with dismay; and a clap of
thunder was enough to throw her into a swoon.
Years rolled on smoothly and serenely; the
discreet Kadiga, to whom the princesses were
confided, was faithful to her trust, and attended
them with unremitting care.
The castle of Salobreña, as has been said, was
built upon a hill on the sea-coast. One of the exterior
walls straggled down the profile of the hill,
until it reached a jutting rock overhanging the sea,
with a narrow sandy beach at its foot, laved by
the rippling billows. A small watch-tower on this
rock had been fitted up as a pavilion, with latticed
windows to admit the sea breeze. Here the princesses
used to pass the the sultry hours of mid-day.
The curious Zayda was one day seated at
one of the windows of her pavilion, as her
sisters, reclining on ottomans, were taking the
siesta or noontide slumber. Her attention had
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been attracted to a galley which came coasting
along, with measured strokes of the oar. As it
drew near, she observed that it was filled with
armed men. The galley anchored at the foot of
the tower: a number of Moorish soldiers landed
on the narrow beach, conducting several Christian
prisoners. The curious Zayda awakened her sisters,
and all three peeped cautiously through the close
jalousies of the lattice, which screened them from
sight. Among the prisoners were three Spanish
cavaliers, richly dressed. They were in the
flower of youth, and of noble presence; and the
lofty manner in which they carried themselves,
though loaded with chains and surrounded with
enemies, bespoke the grandeur of their souls. The
princesses gazed with intense and breathless interest.
Cooped up as they had been in this castle
among female attendants, seeing nothing of the
male sex but black slaves, or the rude fishermen
of the sea-coast, it is not to be wondered at, that
the appearance of three gallant cavaliers, in the
pride of youth and manly beauty, should produce
some commotion in their bosom.
“Did ever nobler being tread the earth than
that cavalier in crimson?” cried Zayda, the eldest
of the sisters. “See how proudly he bears himself,
as though all around him were his slaves!”
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“But notice that one in green!” exclaimed
Zorayda. “What grace! what elegance! what
spirit!”
The gentle Zorahayda said nothing, but she
secretly gave preference to the cavalier in green.
The princesses remained gazing until the prisoners
were out of sight; then heaving long-drawn
sighs, they turned round, looked at each other for
a moment, and sat down, musing and pensive, on
their ottomans.
The discreet Kadiga found them in this situation;
they related to her what they had seen, and
even the withered heart of the duenna was
warmed. “Poor youths!” exclaimed she, “I'll
warrant their captivity makes many a fair and
high-born lady's heart ache in their native land!
Ah! my children, you have little idea of the life
these cavaliers lead in their own country. Such
prankling at tournaments! such devotion to the
ladies! such courting and serenading!”
The curiosity of Zayda was fully aroused; she
was insatiable in her inquiries, and drew from the
duenna the most animated pictures of the scenes
of her youthful days and native land. The beautiful
Zorayda bridled up, and slyly regarded herself
in a mirror, when the theme turned upon the
charms of the Spanish ladies; while Zorahayda
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suppressed a struggling sigh at the mention of
moonlight serenades.
Every day the curious Zayda renewed her inquiries,
and every day the sage duenna repeated
her stories, which were listened to with profound
interest, though with frequent sighs, by her gentle
auditors. The discreet old woman at length awakened
to the mischief she might be doing. She
had been accustomed to think of the princesses
only as children; but they had imperceptibly ripened
beneath her eye, and now bloomed before her
three lovely damsels of the marriageable age. It is
time, thought the duenna, to give notice to the king.
Mohamed the Left-handed was seated one morning
on a divan in one of the cool halls of the Alhambra,
when a slave arrived from the fortress of
Salobreña, with a message from the sage Kadiga,
congratulating him on the anniversary of his daughters'
birth-day. The slave at the same time presented
a delicate little basket decorated with flowers,
within which, on a couch of vine and fig-leaves,
lay a peach, an apricot, and a nectarine, with their
bloom and down and dewy sweetness upon them,
and all in the early stage of tempting ripeness.
The monarch was versed in the Oriental language
of fruits and flowers, and readily divined the
meaning of this emblematical offering.
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“So,” said he, “the critical period pointed out
by the astrologers is arrived: my daughters are at a
marriageable age. What is to be done? They are
shut up from the eyes of men; they are under the
eyes of the discreet Kadiga—all very good,—but
still they are not under my own eye, as was prescribed
by the astrologers: I must gather them under
my wing, and trust to no other guardianship.”
So saying he ordered that a tower of the Alhambra
should be prepared for their reception, and
departed at the head of his guards for the fortress
of Salobreña, to conduct them home in person.
About three years had elapsed since Mohamed
had beheld his daughters, and he could scarcely
credit his eyes at the wonderful change which that
small space of time had made in their appearance.
During the interval, they had passed that wondrous
boundary line in female life which separates the
crude, unformed, and thoughtless girl from the
blooming, blushing, meditative woman. It is like
passing from the flat, bleak, uninteresting plains of
La Mancha to the voluptuous valleys and swelling
hills of Andalusia.
Zayda was tall and finely formed, with a lofty
demeanour and a penetrating eye. She entered
with a stately and decided step, and made a profound
reverence to Mohamed, treating him moer
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as her sovereign than her father. Zorayda was of
the middle height, with an alluring look and swimming
gait, and a sparkling beauty, heightened by
the assistance of the toilette. She approached her
father with a smile, kissed his hand, and saluted
him with several stanzas from a popular Arabian
poet, with which the monarch was delighted.
Zorahayda was shy and timid, smaller than her
sisters, and with a beauty of that tender beseeching
kind which looks for fondness and protection.
She was little fitted to command, like her elder
sister, or to dazzle like the second, but was rather
formed to creep to the bosom of manly affection,
to nestle within it, and be content. She drew near
her father, with a timid and almost faltering step,
and would have taken his hand to kiss, but on
looking up into his face, and seeing it beaming
with a paternal smile, the tenderness of her nature
broke forth, and she threw herself upon his neck.
Mohamed the Left-handed surveyed his blooming
daughters with mingled pride and perplexity;
for while he exulted in their charms, he bethought
himself of the prediction of the astrologers.
“Three daughters! three daughters!” muttered
he repeatedly to himself, “and all of a marriageable
age! Here's tempting Hesperian fruit, that
requires a dragon watch!”
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He prepared for his return to Granada, by sending
heralds before him, commanding every one to
keep out of the road by which he was to pass, and
that all doors and windows should be closed at the
approach of the princesses. This done, he set
forth, escorted by a troop of black horsemen of
hideous aspect, and clad in shining armour.
The princesses rode beside the king, closely
veiled, on beautiful white palfreys, with velvet
caparisons, embroidered with gold, and sweeping
the ground; the bits and stirrups were of gold, and
the silken bridles adorned with pearls and precious
stones. The palfreys were covered with little silver
bells, that made the most musical tinkling as
they ambled gently along. Wo to the unlucky
wight, however, who lingered in the way when he
heard the tinkling of these bells!—the guards
were ordered to cut him down without mercy.
The cavalcade was drawing near to Granada,
when it overtook, on the banks of the river Xenil,
a small body of Moorish soldiers with a convoy of
prisoners. It was too late for the soldiers to get out
of the way, so they threw themselves on their faces
on the earth, ordering their captives to do the like.
Among the prisoners were the three identical
cavaliers whom the princesses had seen from the
pavilion. They either did not understand, or
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were too haughty to obey the order, and remained
standing and gazing upon the cavalcade as it approached.
The ire of the monarch was kindled at this flagrant
defiance of his orders. Drawing his cimeter,
and pressing forward, he was about to deal a
left-handed blow that would have been fatal to,
at least, one of the gazers, when the princesses
crowded around him, and implored mercy for the
prisoners; even the timid Zorahayda forgot her
shyness, and became eloquent in their behalf.
Mohamed paused, with uplifted cimeter, when
the captain of the guard threw himself at his feet.
“Let not your majesty,” said he, “do a deed that
may cause great scandal throughout the kingdom.
These are three brave and noble Spanish knights,
who have been taken in battle, fighting like lions;
they are of high birth, and may bring great ransoms.”—
“Enough!” said the king. “I will spare
their lives, but punish their audacity—let them be
taken to the Vermilion Towers, and put to hard
labour.”
Mohamed was making one of his usual left-handed
blunders. In the tumult and agitation
of this blustering scene, the veils of the three princesses
had been thrown back, and the radiance of
their beauty revealed; and in prolonging the
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parley, the king had given that beauty time to have
its full effect. In those days people fell in love
much more suddenly than at present, as all ancient
stories make manifest: it is not a matter of wonder,
therefore, that the hearts of the three cavaliers
were completely captured; especially as gratitude
was added to their admiration: it is a little singular,
however, though no less certain, that each of
them was enraptured with a several beauty. As
to the princesses, they were more than ever struck
with the noble demeanour of the captives, and
cherished in their breasts all that they had heard of
their valour and noble lineage.
The cavalcade resumed its march; the three princesses
rode pensively along on their tinkling palfreys,
now and then stealing a glance behind in
search of the Christian captives, and the latter were
conducted to their allotted prison in the Vermilion
Towers.
The residence provided for the princesses was one
of the most dainty that fancy could devise. It was
in a tower somewhat apart from the main palace of
the Alhambra, though connected with it by the wall
that encircled the whole summit of the hill. On
one side it looked into the interior of the fortress,
and had, at its foot, a small garden filled with the
rarest flowers. On the other side it overlooked
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a deep embowered ravine that separated the
grounds of the Alhambra from those of the Generalife.
The interior of the tower was divided into
small fairy apartments, beautifully ornamented in
the light Arabian style, surrounding a lofty hall,
the vaulted roof of which rose almost to the summit
of the tower. The walls and ceilings of the
hall were adorned with Arabesque and fret-work,
sparkling with gold and with brilliant penciling.
In the centre of the marble pavement was an alabaster
fountain, set round with aromatic shrubs
and flowers, and throwing up a jet of water that
cooled the whole edifice and had a lulling sound.
Round the hall were suspended cages of gold and
silver wire, containing singing-birds of the finest
plumage or sweetest note.
The princesses had been represented as always
cheerful when in the castle of Salobreña; the king
had expected to see them enraptured with the Alhambra.
To his surprise, however, they began to
pine, and grow melancholy, and dissatisfied with
every thing around them. The flowers yielded
them no fragrance, the song of the nightingale disturbed
their night's rest, and they were out of all
patience with the alabaster fountain with its eternal
drop-drop and splash-splash, from morning till
night, and from night till morning.
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The king, who was somewhat of a testy, tyrannical
disposition, took this at first in high dudgeon;
but he reflected that his daughters had arrived at
an age when the female mind expands and its desires
augment. “They are no longer children,”
said he to himself, “they are women grown, and
require suitable objects to interest them.” He put
in requisition, therefore, all the dress-makers, and
the jewellers, and the artificers in gold and silver
throughout the Zacatin of Granada, and the princesses
were overwhelmed with robes of silk, and
of tissue, and of brocade, and cashmere shawls,
and necklaces of pearls and diamonds, and rings,
and bracelets, and anklets, and all manner of precious
things.
All, however, was of no avail; the princesses
continued pale and languid in the midst of their
finery, and looked like three blighted rose-buds,
drooping from one stalk. The king was at his
wits' end. He had in general a laudable confidence
in his own judgment, and never took advice. “The
whims and caprices of three marriageable damsels,
however, are sufficient,” said he, “to puzzle the
shrewdest head.” So for once in his life he called
in the aid of counsel.
The person to whom he applied was the experienced
duenna.
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“Kadiga,” said the king, “I know you to be
one of the most discreet women in the whole
world, as well as one of the most trustworthy; for
these reasons I have always continued you about
the persons of my daughters. Fathers cannot be
too wary in whom they repose such confidence; I
now wish you to find out the secret malady that is
preying upon the princesses, and to devise some
means of restoring them to health and cheerfulness.”
Kadiga promised implicit obedience. In fact
she knew more of the malady of the princesses
than they did themselves. Shutting herself up
with them, however, she endeavoured to insinuate
herself into their confidence.
“My dear children, what is the reason you are
so dismal and downcast in so beautiful a place,
where you have every thing that heart can wish?”
The princesses looked vacantly round the apartment,
and sighed.
“What more, then would you have? Shall I get
you the wonderful parrot that talks all languages,
and is the delight of Granada?”
“Odious!” exclaimed the princess Zayda. “A
horrid, screaming bird, that chatters words without
ideas: one must be without brains to tolerate
such a pest.”
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“Shall I send for a monkey from the rock of
Gibraltar, to divert you with his antics?”
“A monkey! faugh!” cried Zorayda; “the
detestable mimic of man. I hate the nauseous
animal.”
“What say you to the famous black singer
Casem, from the royal harem, in Morocco. They
say he has a voice as fine as a woman's.”
“I am terrified at the sight of these black
slaves,” said the delicate Zorahayda; “besides, I
have lost all relish for music.”
“Ah! my child, you would not say so,” replied
the old woman, slyly, “had you heard the
music I heard last evening, from the three Spanish
cavaliers, whom we met on our journey. But,
bless me, children! what is the matter that you
blush so, and are in such a flutter?”
“Nothing, nothing, good mother; pray proceed.”
“Well; as I was passing by the Vermilion
Towers last evening, I saw the three cavaliers
resting after their day's labour. One was playing
on the guitar, so gracefully, and the others sung
by turns; and they did it in such style, that the
very guards seemed like statues, or men enchanted.
Allah forgive me! I could not help being
moved at hearing the songs of my native country.
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And then to see three such noble and handsome
youths in chains and slavery!”
Here the kind-hearted old woman could not
estrain her tears.
“Perhaps, mother, you could manage to procured
us a sight of these cavaliers,” said Zayda.
“I think,” said Zorayda, “a little music would
be quite reviving.”
The timid Zorahayda said nothing, but threw
her arms round the neck of Kadiga.
“Mercy on me!” exclaimed the discreet old
woman: “what are you talking of, my children?
Your father would be the death of us all if he
heard of such a thing. To be sure, these cavaliers
are evidently well-bred, and high-minded youths;
but what of that? they are the enemies of our
faith, and you must not even think of them but
with abhorrence.”
There is an admirable intrepidity in the female
will, particularly when about the marriageable age,
which is not to be deterred by dangers and prohibitions.
The princesses hung round their old
duenna, and coaxed, and entreated, and declared
that a refusal would break their hearts.
What could she do? She was certainly the
most discreet old woman in the whole world, and
one of the most faithful servants to the king; but
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was she to see three beautiful princesses break
their hearts for the mere tinkling of a guitar?
Besides, though she had been so long among the
Moors, and changed her faith in imitation of her
mistress, like a trusty follower, yet she was a
Spaniard born, and had the lingerings of Christianity
in her heart. So she set about to contrive
how the wish of the princesses might he gratified.
The Christian captives, confined in the Vermilion
Towers, were under the charge of a big-whiskered,
broad-shouldered renegado, called Hussein
Baba, who was reputed to have a most itching
palm. She went to him privately, and slipping a
broad piece of gold into his hand, “Hussein
Baba,” said she; “my mistresses, the three
princesses, who are shut up in the tower, and in
sad want of amusement, have heard of the musical
talents of the three Spanish cavaliers, and are
desirous of hearing a specimen of their skill. I
am sure you are too kind-hearted to refuse them
so innocent a gratification.”
“What! and to have my head set grinning over
the gate of my own tower! for that would be the
reward, if the king should discover it.”
“No danger of any thing of the kind; the
affair may be managed so that the whim of the
princesses may be gratified, and their father be
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never the wiser. You know the deep ravine outside
of the walls that passes immediately below
the tower. Put the three Christians to work
there, and at the intervals of their labour, let them
play and sing, as if for their own recreation. In
this way the princesses will be able to hear them
from the windows of the tower, and you may be
sure of their paying well for your compliance.”
As the good old woman concluded her harangue,
she kindly pressed the rough hand of the
renegado, and left within it another piece of gold.
Her eloquence was irresistible. The very next
day the three cavaliers were put to work in the
ravine. During the noontide heat, when their
fellow-labourers were sleeping in the shade, and
the guard nodding drowsily at his post, they
seated themselves among the herbage at the foot
of the tower, and sang a Spanish roundelay to the
accompaniment of the guitar.
The glen was deep, the tower was high, but
their voices rose distinctly in the stillness of the
summer noon. The princesses listened from their
balcony, they had been taught the Spanish language
by their duenna, and were moved by the
tenderness of the song. The discreet Kadiga, on
the contrary, was terribly shocked. “Allah preserve
us!” cried she, “they are singing a
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love-ditty, addressed to yourselves. Did ever mortal
hear of such audacity? I will run to the slave
master, and have them soundly bastinadoed.”
“What! bastinado such gallant cavaliers, and
for singing so charmingly!” The three beautiful
princesses were filled with horror at the idea.
With all her virtuous indignation, the good old
woman was of a placable nature, and easily
appeased. Besides, the music seemed to have a
beneficial effect upon her young mistresses. A
rosy bloom had already come to their cheeks, and
their eyes began to sparkle. She made no further
objection, therefore, to the amorous ditty of the
cavaliers.
When it was finished, the princesses remained
silent for a time; at length Zorayda took up a
lute, and with a sweet, though faint and trembling
voice, warbled a little Arabian air, the burden of
which was, “The rose is concealed among her
leaves, but she listens with delight to the song of
the nightingale.”
From this time forward the cavaliers worked
almost daily in the ravine. The considerate
Hussein Baba became more and more indulgent,
and daily more prone to sleep at his post. For
some time a vague intercourse was kept up by
pupular songs and romances, which, in some
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measure, responded to each other, and breathed the
feelings of the parties. By degrees, the princesses
showed themselves at the balcony, when they
could do so without being perceived by the guards.
They conversed with the cavaliers also, by means
of flowers, with the symbolical language of which
they were mutually acquainted: the difficulties of
their intercourse added to its charms, and strengthened
the passion they had so singularly conceived;
for love delights to struggle with difficulties, and
thrives the most hardily on the scantiest soil.
The change effected in the looks and spirits of
the princesses by this secret intercourse, surprised
and gratified the left-handed king; but no one
was more elated than the discreet Kadiga, who
considered it all owing to her able management.
At length there was an interruption in this
telegraphic correspondence: for several days the
cavaliers ceased to make their appearance in the
glen. The three beautiful princesses looked out
from the tower in vain. In vain they stretched
their swan-like necks from the balcony; in vain
they sang like captive nightingales in their cage:
nothing was to be seen of their Christian lovers;
not a note responded from the groves. The discreet
Kadiga sallied forth in quest of intelligence,
and soon returned with a face full of trouble.
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“Ah, my children!” cried she, “I saw what all
this would come to, but you would have your
way; you may now hang up your lutes on the
willows. The Spanish cavaliers are now ransomed
by their families; they are down in Granada,
and preparing to return to their native
country.”
The three beautiful princesses were in despair
at the tidings. The fair Zayda was indignant at
the slight put upon them, in thus being deserted
without a parting word. Zorayda wrung her hands
and cried, and looked in the glass, and wiped away
her tears, and cried afresh. The gentle Zorahayda
leaned over the balcony and wept in silence, and
her tears fell drop by drop among the flowers of
the bank where the faithless cavaliers had so often
been seated.
The discreet Kadiga did all in her power to
soothe their sorrow. “Take comfort, my children,”
said she, “this is nothing when you are
used to it. This is the way of the world. Ah!
when you are as old as I am, you will know how
to value these men. I'll warrant, these cavaliers
have their loves among the Spanish beauties of
Cordova and Seville, and will soon be serenading
under their balconies, and thinking no more of the
Moorish beauties in the Alhambra. Take comfort,
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therefore, my children, and drive them from your
hearts.”
The comforting words of the discreet Kadiga
only redoubled the distress of the three princesses,
and for two days they continued inconsolable.
On the morning of the third, the good old woman
entered their apartment, all ruffling with indignation.
“Who would have believed such insolence in
mortal man!” exclaimed she, as soon as she could
find words to express herself; “but I am rightly
served for having connived at this deception of
your worthy father. Never talk more to me of
your Spanish cavaliers.”
“Why, what has happened, good Kadiga?”
exclaimed the princesses in breathless anxiety.
“What has happened!—treason has happened;
or what is almost as bad, treason has been proposed,
and to me, the most faithful of subjects, the trustiest
of duennas! Yes, my children, the Spanish
cavaliers have dared to tamper with me, that I
should persuade you to fly with them to Cordova,
and become their wives!”
Here the excellent old woman covered her face
with her hands, and gave way to a violent burst
of grief and indignation. The three beautiful
princesses turned pale and red, pale and red, and
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trembled, and looked down, and cast shy looks at
each other, but said nothing. Meantime, the old
woman sat rocking backward and forward in violent
agitation, and now and then breaking out into
exclamations, “That ever I should live to be so
insulted!—I, the most faithful of servants!”
At length, the oldest princess, who had most
spirit, and always took the lead, approached her,
and laying her hand upon her shoulder, “Well,
mother,” said she, “supposing we were willing to
fly with these Christian cavaliers—is such a thing
possible?”
The good old woman paused suddenly in her
grief, and looking up, “Possible!” echoed she;
“to be sure, it is possible. Have not the cavaliers
already bribed Hussein Baba, the renegado captain
of the guard, and arranged the whole plan? But,
then, to think of deceiving your father! your
father, who has placed such confidence in me!”
Here the worthy woman gave way to a fresh burst
of grief, and began again to rock backward and
forward, and to wring her hands.
“But our father has never placed any confidence
in us,” said the eldest princess, “but has
trusted to bolts and bars, and treated us as captives.”
“Why, that is true enough,” replied the old
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woman, again pausing in her grief; “he has
indeed treated you most unreasonably, keeping
you shut up here, to waste your bloom in a moping
old tower, like roses left to wither in a flowerjar.
But, then, to fly from your native land!”
“And is not the land we fly to, the native land
of our mother, where we shall live in freedom?
And shall we not each have a youthful husband in
exchange for a severe old father?”
“Why, that again is all very true; and your
father, I must confess, is rather tyrannical: but
what, then,” relapsing into her grief, “would
you leave me behind to bear the brunt of his vengeance?”
“By no means, my good Kadiga; cannot you
fly with us?”
“Very true, my child; and, to tell the truth,
when I talked the matter over with Hussein Baba,
he promised to take care of me, if I would accompany
you in your flight: but then, bethink you,
my children, are you willing to renounce the faith
of your father?”
“The Christian faith was the original faith of
our mother,” said the eldest princess; “I am ready
to embrace it, and so, I am sure, are my sisters.”
“Right again!” exclaimed the old woman,
brightening up; “it was the original faith of your
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mother, and bitterly did she lament, on her death
bed, that she had renounced it. I promised her
then to take care of your souls, and I rejoice to
see that they are now in a fair way to be saved.
Yes, my children, I, too, was born a Christian,
and have remained a Christian in my heart, and
am resolved to return to the faith. I have talked
on the subject with Hussein Baba, who is a Spaniard
by birth, and comes from a place not far
from my native town. He is equally anxious to
see his own country, and to be reconciled to the
church; and the cavaliers have promised, that, if
we are disposed to become man and wife, on
returning to our native land, they will provide for
us handsomely.”
In a word, it appeared that this extremely
discreet and provident old woman had consulted
with the cavaliers and the renegado, and had concerted
the whole plan of escape. The eldest
princess immediately assented to it; and her
example, as usual, determined the conduct of her
sisters. It is true, the youngest hesitated, for she
was gentle and timid of soul, and there was a
struggle in her bosom between filial feeling and
youthful passion: the latter, however, as usual,
gained the victory, and with silent tears, and
stifled sighs, she prepared herself for flight.
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The rugged hill, on which the Alhambra is
built, was, in old times, perforated with subterranean
passages, cut through the rock, and leading
from the fortress to various parts of the city, and
to distant sallyports on the banks of the Darro
and the Xenil. They had been constructed at
different times by the Moorish kings, as means of
escape from sudden insurrections, or of secretly
issuing forth on private enterprises. Many of
them are now entirely lost, while others remain,
partly choked up with rubbish, and partly walled
up; monuments of the jealous precautions and
warlike stratagems of the Moorish government.
By one of these passages, Hussein Baba had
undertaken to conduct the princesses to a sallyport
beyond the walls of the city, where the cavaliers
were to be ready with fleet steeds, to bear the
whole party over the borders.
The appointed night arrived: the tower of the
princesses had been locked up as usual, and the
Alhambra was buried in deep sleep. Towards
midnight, the discreet Kadiga listened from the
balcony of a window that looked into the garden.
Hussein Baba, the renegado, was already below,
and gave the appointed signal. The duenna fastened
the end of a ladder of ropes to the balcony,
lowered it into the garden, and descended. The
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two eldest princesses followed her with beating
hearts; but when it came to the turn of the
youngest princess, Zorahayda, she hesitated, and
trembled. Several times she ventured a delicate
little foot upon the ladder, and as often drew
it back, while her poor little heart fluttered more
and more the longer she delayed. She cast a wistful
look back into the silken chamber; she had
lived in it, to be sure, like a bird in a cage; but
within it she was secure; who could tell what
dangers might beset her, should she flutter forth
into the wide world! Now she bethought her of
her gallant Christian lover, and her little foot was
instantly upon the ladder; and anon she thought
of her father, and shrank back. But fruitless is
the attempt to describe the conflict in the bosom
of one so young and tender and loving; but so
timid, and so ignorant of the world.
In vain her sisters implored, the duenna scolded,
and the renegado blasphemed beneath the balcony;
the gentle little Moorish maid stood doubting and
wavering on the verge of elopement; tempted
by the sweetness of the sin, but terrified at its
perils.
Every moment increased the danger of discovery.
A distant tramp was heard. “The patrols
are walking their rounds,” cried the
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renegado; “if we linger, we perish. Princess, descend
instantly, or we leave you.”
Zorahayda was for a moment in fearful agitation;
then loosening the ladder of ropes, with desperate
resolution, she flung it from the balcony.
“It is decided!” cried she; “flight is now out
of my power! Allah guide and bless ye, my
dear sisters!”
The two eldest princesses were shocked at the
thoughts of leaving her behind, and would fain
have lingered, but the patrol was advancing; the
renegado was furious, and they were hurried away
to the subterraneous passage. They groped their
way through a fearful labyrinth, cut through the
heart of the mountain, and succeeded in reaching,
undiscovered, an iron gate that opened outside of
the walls. The Spanish cavaliers were waiting
to receive them, disguised as Moorish soldiers of
the guard, commanded by the renegado.
The lover of Zorahayda was frantic, when he
learned that she had refused to leave the tower;
but there was no time to waste in lamentations.
The two princesses were placed behind their
lovers, the discreet Kadiga mounted behind the
renegado, and set off at a round pace in the direction
of the pass of Lope, which leads through the
mountains towards Cordova.
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They had not proceeded far when they heard
the noise of drums and trumpets from the battlements
of the Alhambra.
“Our flight is discovered!” said the renegado.
“We have fleet steeds, the night is dark, and
we may distance all pursuit,” replied the cavaliers.
They put spurs to their horses, and scoured
across the Vega. They attained the foot of the
mountain of Elvira, which stretches like a promontory
into the plain. The renegado paused
and listened. “As yet,” said he, “there is no one
on our traces, we shall make good our escape to
the mountains.” While he spoke, a bale fire
sprung up in a light blaze on the top of the watch-tower
of the Alhambra.
“Confusion!” cried the renegado, “that fire
will put all the guards of the passes on the alert.
Away! away! Spur like mad,—there is no time
to be lost.”
Away they dashed—the clattering of their
horses' hoofs echoed from rock to rock, as they
swept along the road that skirts the rocky
mountain of Elvira. As they galloped on, they
beheld that the bale fire of the Alhambra was answered
in every direction; light after light blazed
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on the Atalayas, or watch-towers of the mountains.
“Forward! forward!” cried the renegado, with
many an oath, “to the bridge,—to the bridge,
before the alarm has reached there!”
They doubled the promontory of the mountains,
and arrived in sight of the famous Puente del Pinos,
that crosses a rushing stream often dyed with
Christian and Moslem blood. To their confusion,
the tower on the bridge blazed with lights and
glittered with armed men. The renegado pulled
up his steed, rose in his stirrups and looked about
him for a moment; then beckoning to the cavaliers,
he struck off from the road, skirted the river
for some distance, and dashed into its waters. The
cavaliers called upon the princesses to cling to
them, and did the same. They were borne for
some distance down the rapid current, the surges
roared round them, but the beautiful princesses
clung to their Christian knights, and never uttered
a complaint. The cavaliers attained the opposite
bank in safety and were conducted by the renegado,
by rude and unfrequented paths, and wild
barrancos, through the heart of the mountains, so
as to avoid all the regular passes. In a word, they
succeeded in reaching the ancient city of Cordova;
where their restoration to their country and friends
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was celebrated with great rejoicings, for they were
of the noblest families. The beautiful princesses
were forthwith received into the bosom of
the Church, and, after being in all due form
made regular Christians, were rendered happy
wives.
In our hurry to make good the escape of the
princesses across the river, and up the mountains,
we forgot to mention the fate of the discreet Kadiga.
She had clung like a cat to Hussein Baba in
the scamper across the Vega, screaming at every
bound, and drawing many an oath from the whiskered
renegado; but when he prepared to plunge
his steed into the river, her terror knew no bounds.
“Grasp me not so tightly,” cried Hussein Baba;
“hold on by my belt and fear nothing.” She
held firmly with both hands by the leathern belt
that girded the broad-backed renegado; but when
he halted with the cavaliers to take breath on the
mountain summit, the duenna was no longer to be
seen.
“What has become of Kadiga?” cried the
princesses in alarm.
“Allah alone knows!” replied the renegado;
“my belt came loose when in the midst of the
river, and Kadiga was swept with it down the
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stream. The will of Allah be done! but it was
an embroidered belt, and of great price.”
There was no time to waste in idle regrets; yet
bitterly did the princesses bewail the loss of their
discreet counsellor. That excellent old woman,
however, did not lose more than half of her nine
lives in the stream: a fisherman, who was drawing
his nets some distance down the stream, brought
her to land, and was not a little astonished at his
miraculous draught. What further became of the
discreet Kadiga, the legend does not mention;
certain it is that she evinced her discretion in never
venturing within the reach of Mohamed the Left-handed.
Almost as little is known of the conduct of that
sagacious monarch when he discovered the escape
of his daughters, and the deceit practised upon him
by the most faithful of servants. It was the only
instance in which he had called in the aid of counsel,
and he was never afterwards known to be
guilty of a similar weakness. He took good care,
however, to guard his remaining daughter, who
had no disposition to elope: it is thought, indeed,
that she secretly repented having remained behind:
now and then she was seen leaning on the battlements
of the tower, and looking mournfully towards
the mountains in the direction of Cordova,
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and sometimes the notes of her lute were heard
accompanying plaintive ditties, in which she was
said to lament the loss of her sisters and her lover,
and to bewail her solitary life. She died young,
and, according to popular rumour, was buried in a
vault beneath the tower, and her untimely fate had
given rise to more than one traditionary fable.
END OF VOL. I.
