Verhalen over het gebouwencomplex in Granada, dat eigendom was van de laatste islamitische vorsten in Spanje.
“Well, as I was saying, I invited him to share my supper, such as it
was, for I could not do less in common hospitality. ‘I have no time to
pause for meat or drink,’ said he, ‘I have a long journey to make before
morning.’
“‘In what direction?’ said I.
“‘Andalusia,’ said he.
“‘Exactly my route,’ said I; ‘so, as you won’t stop and eat with me,
perhaps you will let me mount and ride with you. I see your horse is of
a powerful frame; I’ll warrant he’ll carry double.’
“‘Agreed,’ said the trooper; and it would not have been civil and
soldierlike to refuse, especially as I had offered to share my supper
with him. So up he mounted, and up I mounted behind him.
“‘Hold fast,’ said he, ‘my steed goes like the wind.’
“‘Never fear me,’ said I, and so off we set.
“From a walk the horse soon passed to a trot, from a trot to a gallop,
and from a gallop to a harum-scarum scamper. It seemed as if rocks,
trees, houses, everything flew hurry-scurry behind us.
“‘What town is this?’ said I.
“‘Segovia,’ said he; and before the word was out of his mouth, the
towers of Segovia were out of sight. We swept up the Guadarrama
mountains, and down by the Escurial; and we skirted the walls of
Madrid, and we scoured away across the plains of La Mancha. In this way
we went up hill and down dale, by towers and cities, all buried in deep
sleep, and across mountains, and plains, and rivers, just glimmering in
the starlight.
“To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your Excellency, the
trooper suddenly pulled up on the side of a mountain. ‘Here we are,’
said he, ‘at the end of our journey.’ I looked about, but could see no
signs of habitation, nothing but the mouth of a cavern. While I looked I
saw multitudes of people in Moorish dresses, some on horseback, some on
foot, arriving as if borne by the wind from all points of the compass,
and hurrying into the mouth of the cavern like bees into a hive. Before
I could ask a question, the trooper struck his long Moorish spurs into
the horse’s flanks, and dashed in with the throng. We passed along a
steep winding way, that descended into the very bowels of the mountain.
As we pushed on, a light began to glimmer up, by little and little, like
the first glimmerings of day, but what caused it I could not discern. It
grew stronger and stronger, and enabled me to see everything around. I
now noticed, as we passed along, great caverns, opening to the right and
left, like halls in an arsenal. In some there were shields, and helmets,
and cuirasses, and lances, and cimeters, hanging against the walls; in
others there were great heaps of warlike munitions and camp-equipage
lying upon the ground.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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