In the midst of his despondency he received a message from his lion-hearted mother, the sultana Ayxa la Horra. It was brought by the steadfast adherent to their fortunes, Aben Comixa. “For shame,” said she, “to linger timorously about the borders of your kingdom when a usurper is seated in your capital! Why look abroad for perfidious aid when you have loyal hearts beating true to you in Granada? The Albaycin is ready to throw open its gates to receive you. Strike home vigorously--a sudden blow may mend all or make an end. A throne or a grave!--for a king there is no honorable medium.” Boabdil was of an undecided character, but there are circumstances which bring the most wavering to a decision, and when once resolved they are apt to act with a daring impulse unknown to steadier judgments. The message of the sultana roused him from a dream. Granada, beautiful Granada, with its stately Alhambra, its delicious gardens, its gushing and limpid fountains sparkling among groves of orange, citron, and myrtle, rose before him. “What have I done,” exclaimed he, “that I should be an exile from this paradise of my forefathers--a wanderer and fugitive in my own kingdom, while a murderous usurper sits proudly upon my throne? Surely Allah will befriend the righteous cause; one blow, and all may be my own.” He summoned his scanty band of cavaliers. “Who is ready to follow his monarch unto the death?” said he; and every one laid his hand upon his scimetar. “Enough!” said he; “let each man arm himself and prepare his steed in secret for an enterprise of toil and peril; if we succeed, our reward is empire.” CHAPTER XLVI. HOW BOABDIL RETURNED SECRETLY TO GRANADA, AND HOW HE WAS RECEIVED.--SECOND EMBASSY OF DON JUAN DE VERA, AND HIS PERILS IN THE ALHAMBRA. “In the hand of God,” exclaimed an old Arabian chronicler, “is the destiny of princes; he alone giveth empire. A Moorish horseman, mounted on a fleet Arabian steed, was one day traversing the mountains which extended between Granada and the frontier of Murcia. He galloped swiftly through the valleys, but paused and looked out cautiously from the summit of every height. A squadron of cavaliers followed warily at a distance. There were fifty lances. The richness of their armor and attire showed them to be warriors of noble rank, and their leader had a lofty and prince-like demeanor.” The squadron thus described by the Arabian chronicler was the Moorish king Boabdil and his devoted followers.