The kingdom of the Moors which had once embraced the whole peninsula, save the mountains in the north-west, had shrunk to somewhat less than two hundred leagues; but this area comprised all that was best in soil and atmosphere. In its fertile valleys was ample pasturage for flocks of sheep; in the depths of its mountains, no lack of the ore and metals that its furnaces converted with unrivalled skill into ornaments and weapons. Its plains, protected from the northern winds by snow-capped mountain peaks, and preserved from the ill effects of the sun by a careful system of irrigation, were covered with maize and other grains, producing between them a perpetual harvest. Its villages nestled amidst vineyards and olive-groves; oranges, citrons, and figs grew in its orchards; here and there were plantations of mulberry trees. The silk woven in the looms of Granada could stand comparison with the coveted fabrics of Bagdad and the Orient, and with Moorish tissues, velvets, and brocades, found ready purchasers in Venetian markets, through the medium of thriving ports on the Mediterranean, such as Velez-Malaga and Almeria. By these same ports, the rulers of Granada could receive assistance from their Mahometan allies on the African coast, whether in the shape of provisions or of men, though of the latter they possessed sufficient for any ordinary campaign. Not only did the healthy climate and abundance of food tend to a natural increase of the population, but for centuries there had been a steady influx of Mahometan refugees from the provinces reconquered by the Spaniards. It has been estimated that towards the end of the fifteenth century, the population of Granada was between three or four millions, and was capable of sending into the field a force of 8000 horse and 25,000 foot. The Moors, whether supple Arab or hardy Berber, were as fine soldiers as they were skilful artisans and traders. Trained to shoot from early boyhood, their archers had no match with the cross-bow; while their lightly armed cavalry could manœuvre on the wide plains, or make their way by narrow mountain paths, to the utter discomfiture of the crusader in his heavy mail. These were facts the Christian army was to learn to its cost during ten years of unceasing war. They were not unknown beforehand to the more seasoned warriors; but the peaceful character of the old Sultan Ismail, and his readiness to pay the yearly tribute to Castile of 20,000 doblas of gold rather than take advantage of Henry IV.’s weakness, had aroused the latent scorn felt for the Infidel by a hot-headed younger generation. In 1476, Aben Ismail died; and his successor, Muley Abul Hacen, a chieftain already famous in his own land for various daring raids into Christian territory, ceased to send the required tribute to Castile. When the ambassadors of Ferdinand and Isabel came before him to remonstrate, he replied haughtily: