Unfortunately, the little king of the Alpujarras, as he was contemptuously called by the Spaniards, was soon after killed in another cavern by a traitor’s hand, and with him fell the last hope of the Moriscos. His corpse, set astride on a mule, and supported erect in the saddle by a wooden frame, concealed beneath ample robes, was led in triumphal procession through the streets of Granada, and then decapitated. The body was given to the rabble, who, after dragging it through the streets with scoffs and imprecations, committed it to the flames, while the head, inclosed in a cage, was set up over the gate which opened on the Alpujarras. There it remained for many a year, no one venturing to remove it, for on the cage was inscribed, ‘This is the head of the traitor Aben Aboo. Let no one take it down, under pain of death.’ The neighbourhood of Gortyna, in the island of Crete, has become celebrated in modern times for a mountain-labyrinth, with numerous and intricate passages, which exists in a valley near it, and in which the myth of the Dædalean labyrinth was probably localised. During the revolutionary war against the Turkish yoke (1822–1828) the Christian inhabitants of the adjacent villages, for months together, lived in this cavern, merely sallying out by day to till their lands, or to gather their crops, when it was safe to do so. Though the dark recesses of the cavern were not very inviting abodes for human beings for any long period, yet the sense of safety gave it, doubtless, a peculiar charm; for no one could approach within range of the numerous muskets pointed from masked loopholes at its entrance, without being immediately shot down; nor could either fire or smoke suffocate or dislodge its inmates, as the entrance is in the side of a steep hill, 500 or 600 feet above the bed of the wild valley in which it is situated, and thus is safe from attack in every direction. History as well as tradition states that, in all troubled times in Crete, the labyrinth of Gortyna has been the retreat of the inhabitants of the neighbourhood; but when Captain Spratt visited it in 1852, its only inhabitants were bats, who, by their mode of hooking on to each other, were hanging from the ceiling like clusters of bees. Under good native guides, he spent nearly two hours in threading its tortuous passages, which turn in so many ways and have so many branches as to justify the conclusion that a master hand must have directed the excavation. The mark of the tool is seen upon every side of the avenues and chambers, indicative of its artificial character.