Everyone in Granada, however, awoke the next morning uneasy and full of anxiety, because the Moors had to be moved from the parish churches, where they had spent the night, to the Royal Hospital beyond the gates, and there given over to the charge of the clerks and royal enumerators in order that the former should make a list of them, and that the others should undertake to assign them residences in those villages in Castille and Andalucia settled beforehand. Rebellion and mutiny were feared on both sides, and such would have been the case had not D. John foreseen everything. He ordered that all the soldiers should form up at daybreak in the plain between the gate of Elvira and the Royal Hospital, which was the most open and dangerous place. He commanded the first of the companies himself, and the other three were led by the Duque de Sesa, Luis Quijada, and the Licentiate Briviesca de Muñatones. D. John took up his position at the door of the hospital, which was the most critical post. His standard of Captain-General, which was of crimson damask, much adorned with gold and having a figure of Christ on one side and of His Blessed Mother on the other, was carried in front of him to give him more authority. Pity towards these unarmed wretches was, however, stronger in the inhabitants of Granada than hatred and the desire for vengeance, and all the Moors were able to descend from the Albaicin, cross the town, and enter the hospital without being molested by anyone. "It was a miserable sight," says Luis de Marmol, an eye-witness, participator in and chronicler of all these events "to see so many men of all ages, hanging their heads, their hands crossed, and their faces bathed with tears, looking sad and sorrowful, having left their comfortable houses, their families, their country, their habits, their properties and everything they had, and not even certain what would be done with their heads." Twice, however, they were on the verge of a catastrophe, as it occurred to a certain captain of infantry from Seville, called Alonso de Arellano, from a stupid wish to be remarkable, to put a crucifix covered with a black veil on the top of a lance, and to carry it as a trophy in front of his company, which was guarding the Moors of two parishes. Seeing this token of mourning, some Moorish women in the street of Elvira thought that D. John had broken his word, and that their husbands were being taken to be beheaded; they began to weep and cry out in their Arabic dialect (aljamia), tearing their hair, "Oh, unlucky ones! they are taking you like lambs to be slaughtered. How much better for you to have died in the houses where you were born!" This inflamed the feelings of all, and Christians and Moors would have come to blows, had not Luis Quijada arrived in time to calm them, assuring the Moors afresh of their safety, and ordering the crucifix to be taken away.