"Admit the Ambassador of Egypt," said Boabdil, as Abdelmelic retired.
There was a pause: one of the draperies at the end of the hall was drawn
aside; and with the slow and sedate majesty of their tribe and land,
paced forth a dark and swarthy train, the envoys of the Egyptian soldan.
Six of the band bore costly presents of gems and weapons, and the
procession closed with four veiled slaves, whose beauty had been the
boast of the ancient valley of the Nile.
"Sun of Granada and day--star of the faithful!" said the chief of the
Egyptians, "my lord, the Soldan of Egypt, delight of the world, and rose-
tree of the East, thus answers to the letters of Boabdil. He grieves
that be cannot send the succour thou demandest; and informing himself of
the condition of thy territories, he finds that Granada no longer holds a
seaport by which his forces (could he send them) might find an entrance
into Spain. He implores thee to put thy trust in Allah, who will not
desert his chosen ones, and lays these gifts, in pledge of amity and
love, at the feet of my lord the king."
"It is a gracious and well-timed offering," said Boabdil, with a writhing
lip; "we thank him." There was now a long and dead silence as the
ambassadors swept from the hall of audience, when Boabdil suddenly raised
his head from his breast and looked around his hall with a kingly and
majestic look: "Let the heralds of Ferdinand of Spain approach."
A groan involuntarily broke from the breast of Muza: it was echoed by a
murmur of abhorrence and despair from the gallant captains who stood
around; but to that momentary burst succeeded a breathless silence, as
from another drapery, opposite the royal couch, gleamed the burnished
mail of the knights of Spain. Foremost of these haughty visitors, whose
iron heels clanked loudly on the tesselated floor, came a noble and
stately form, in full armour, save the helmet, and with a mantle of azure
velvet, wrought with the silver cross that made the badge of the
Christian war. Upon his manly countenance was visible no sign of undue
arrogance or exultation; but something of that generous pity which brave
men feel for conquered foes dimmed the lustre of his commanding eye, and
softened the wonted sternness of his martial bearing. He and his train
approached the king with a profound salutation of respect; and falling
back, motioned to the herald that accompanied him, and whose garb, breast
and back, was wrought with the arms of Spain, to deliver himself of his
mission.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account