Spain for the Sovereigns - Plaidy Jean. Страница 48
‘How can I show my gratitude?’
‘By discovering your New World. By justifying this faith I have in you.’
‘It shall be done,’ said Christoforo as though he were taking an oath.
‘There is one matter which needs consideration,’ said Fray Juan. ‘I refer to the boy, your son.’
Christoforo’s face changed and anxiety took the place of exhilaration.
Fray Juan was smiling. ‘I wish to set your mind at rest concerning him. Go to the Queen, go and find your New World. While you do these things I will undertake the charge of your son. He shall remain with us here at Rabida, and we will clothe and feed him, we will shelter and educate him until your return.’
Christoforo rose. He could not speak. The tears were visible in his eyes now.
‘Do not thank me,’ said Fray Juan. ‘Let us get to our knees and thank God. Let us do that . . . together.’
THE ROYAL FAMILY
Throughout the kingdom of Granada there was mourning.
Never before had a Moorish Sultan fallen captive to a Christian army. Nor was Boabdil the only prisoner in the hands of the enemy. Many of the captured were powerful men and, as the character of Ferdinand was beginning to be known throughout Granada, it was calculated that large ransoms would be demanded before they were allowed to return.
‘Allah has turned his face from us,’ mourned the people. ‘The hostile star of Islam is scattering its malignant influences upon us. Can this mean the downfall of the Mussulman Empire?’
Muley Abul Hassan discussed the position with his brother, El Zagal.
‘Boabdil must be released without delay. The effect of his captivity on the people is becoming disastrous.’
El Zagal agreed with his brother. He was certain that Boabdil should be returned to them so that they might quash his rebellion.
‘Offer a ransom,’ he said. ‘Offer a sum which Ferdinand will find it difficult to refuse.’
‘It shall be done,’ said Muley Abul Hassan.
The Sultana Zoraya was torn between anger and anxiety. Her son, the captive of the Christians! He must be released at once.
She raged against Boabdil, who had never been a warrior. When all was well she would devote herself to the upbringing of Boabdil’s young son and make a warrior out of him.
It was imperative that Boabdil should not be allowed to remain in the hands of his captives. If he were, the people of Granada would forget they had called him their Sultan. She foresaw a return to the undisputed rule of Muley Abul Hassan. The Moors might, in their adversity, forget their differences. Then what would happen to Boabdil? Would he be left to fret in his Christian prison? What would happen to her?
When she heard that Muley Abul Hassan had offered a ransom, she was determined that further delay would be dangerous. Boabdil must not be delivered into the hands of his father.
‘What ransom has Muley Abul Hassan offered?’ she demanded to know. ‘No matter what it is, I must offer a greater.’
Ferdinand was gleeful. This was an unexpected stroke of good fortune. Boabdil was in the hands of General the Count of Cabra, having been captured by some of his men.
‘Highness,’ ran the Count’s message, ‘Boabdil, King of Granada, is now a prisoner in my castle of Baena. Here I am according him all the courtesy which his rank demands while I await Your Highness’s instructions.’
Ferdinand sat with Isabella in the Royal Council Chamber, and the fate of Boabdil was considered.
Isabella knew that Ferdinand was thinking of the large ransoms offered by Muley Abul Hassan and the Sultana Zoraya, and that he longed to lay his hands on their gold.
Ferdinand addressed the Council, saying that the ransom should be accepted and Boabdil sent back to his people.
There was an immediate outcry. Send back such a valuable prisoner! The King of Granada himself in their hands, and he to be sent back on the payment of a certain sum!
Isabella listened to the impassioned pleading, to the clash of opinion.
The Marquis of Cadiz rose and said: ‘Your Highnesses and Gentlemen of the Council, our one thought should be to weaken our enemy, to prepare him to our advantage for the final battle. What we have to consider is whether Boabdil is of more use to us here as our prisoner than there, free to cause trouble in his own kingdom.’
‘He is our captive!’ was the answer. ‘He, the leader, the King! What is an army without a leader?’
The Marquis answered: ‘But there were two leaders, other than Boabdil, in Granada – Muley Abul Hassan and El Zagal.’
Ferdinand had begun to speak and, as she listened to him, Isabella rejoiced in his shrewdness.
‘It is clear what must be done,’ said Ferdinand. ‘If Boabdil remains here there will soon be peace within Granada. Muley Abul Hassan will return to the throne with the support of his brother. There will only be one ruler . . . no longer the Old King and the Little King. By our capture of Boabdil we shall have ended civil war in Granada, and one of the greatest aids to our cause is the civil war in Granada.’
Isabella lifted her hand then and said: ‘I am sure that the path we must take is clear to us all now. The King is right. Boabdil must be returned to his people. We must not help to make peace within the kingdom of Granada. Return Boabdil to his people, and once more there, civil war will be intensified.’
‘And we shall have the ransom money,’ added Ferdinand with a gay smile. ‘Zoraya’s ransom money, for naturally he must be returned to his mother, who will help him to reorganise his forces against his father and uncle. And by God’s good grace the ransom money which she offers is greater than that suggested by Muley Abul Hassan. Heaven is with us.’ The Council then declared itself to be in agreement with Ferdinand’s suggestion; and Ferdinand took the Queen’s hand and they, with a few of their highest ministers, retired to draw up the treaty with Boabdil.
Ferdinand received Boabdil at Cordova, determined to charm his captive into a ready acceptance of his proposals.
When Boabdil would have knelt, Ferdinand put out his hand to prevent his doing so.
‘We meet as kings,’ said Ferdinand.
The two kings sat side by side in chairs which had been set for them.
‘You are blessed with a mother who gives all she has for your sake,’ said Ferdinand.
‘It is true,’ Boabdil replied.
‘And, because she has pleaded with us so touchingly, the Queen and myself are inclined to grant her request.’
‘Your Highness is munificent,’ Boabdil murmured.
Ferdinand did not deny it. ‘I will tell you briefly what terms we have drawn up, and when you have agreed to them, and your mother has sent the ransom, we shall hold you here no longer, but shall allow you to depart; for if you give us your word that you will accept these terms we shall trust you.’
Boabdil bowed his head in grateful thanks.
‘We grant a truce of two years’ standing to such territory within the kingdom of Granada which is under your dominion.’
‘I gratefully accept that,’ answered Boabdil.
‘You have been captured in battle, and it will be necessary for you to make some reparation,’ said Ferdinand smoothly. ‘Our people would not be pleased if you did not.’
‘It is understandable,’ agreed Boabdil.