Leila or, the Siege of Granada, Complete by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton (e ink ebook reader .txt) 📖

earth dictate to the actions and watch over the destinies, of the rulers of nations. If I delay, if I linger, it is not from terror, but from wisdom. The cloud must gather on, dark and slow, ere the moment for the thunderbolt arrives.”

“On thine own house will the thunderbolt fall, since over thine own house thou sufferest the cloud to gather,” said a calm and stern voice.

Boabdil started; and in the chamber stood a third person, in the shape of a woman, past middle age, and of commanding port and stature. Upon her long-descending robes of embroidered purple were thickly woven jewels of royal price, and her dark hair, slightly tinged with grey, parted over a majestic brow while a small diadem surmounted the folds of the turban.

“My mother!” said Boabdil, with some haughty reserve in his tone; “your presence is unexpected.”

“Ay,” answered Ayxa la Horra, for it was indeed that celebrated, and haughty, and high-souled queen, “and unwelcome; so is ever that of your true friends. But not thus unwelcome was the presence of your mother, when her brain and her hand delivered you from the dungeon in which your stern father had cast your youth, and the dagger and the bowl seemed the only keys that would unlock the cell.”

“And better hadst thou left the ill-omened son that thy womb conceived, to die thus in youth, honoured and lamented, than to live to manhood, wrestling against an evil star and a relentless fate.”

“Son,” said the queen, gazing upon him with lofty and half disdainful compassion, “men’s conduct shapes out their own fortunes, and the unlucky are never the valiant and the wise.”

“Madam,” said Boabdil, colouring with passion, “I am still a king, nor will I be thus bearded—withdraw!”

Ere the queen could reply, a eunuch entered, and whispered Boabdil.

“Ha!” said he, joyfully, stamping his foot, “comes he then to brave the lion in his den? Let the rebel look to it. Is he alone?”

“Alone, great king.”

“Bid my guards wait without; let the slightest signal summon them. Amine, retire! Madam—”

“Son!” interrupted Ayxa la Horra in visible agitation, “do I guess aright? is the brave Muza—the sole bulwark and hope of Granada—whom unjustly thou wouldst last night have placed in chains—(chains! Great Prophet! is it thus a king should reward his heroes)—is, I say, Muza here? and wilt thou make him the victim of his own generous trust?”

“Retire, woman?” said Boabdil, sullenly.

“I will not, save by force! I resisted a fiercer soul than thine when I saved thee from thy father.”

“Remain, then, if thou wilt, and learn how kings can punish traitors. Mesnour, admit the hero of Granada.” Amine had vanished. Boabdil seated himself on the cushions his face calm but pale. The queen stood erect at a little distance, her arms folded on her breast, and her aspect knit and resolute. In a few moments Muza entered alone. He approached the king with the profound salutation of oriental obeisance; and then stood before him with downcast eyes, in an attitude from which respect could not divorce a natural dignity and pride of mien.

“Prince,” said Boabdil, after a moment’s pause, “yestermorn, when I sent for thee thou didst brave my orders. Even in mine own Alhambra thy minions broke out in mutiny; they surrounded the fortress in which thou wert to wait my pleasure; they intercepted, they insulted, they drove back my guards; they stormed the towers protected by the banner of thy king. The governor, a coward or a traitor, rendered thee to the rebellious crowd. Was this all? No, by the Prophet! Thou, by right my captive, didst leave thy prison but to head mine armies. And this day, the traitor subject—the secret foe—was the leader of a people who defy a king. This night thou comest to me unsought. Thou feelest secure from my just wrath, even in my palace. Thine insolence blinds and betrays thee. Man, thou art in my power! Ho, there!”

As the king spoke, he rose; and, presently, the arcades at the back of the pavilion were darkened by long lines of the Ethiopian guard, each of height which, beside the slight Moorish race, appeared gigantic; stolid and passionless machines, to execute, without thought, the bloodiest or the slightest caprice of despotism. There they stood; their silver breastplates and long earrings contrasting their dusky skins; and bearing, over their shoulders, immense clubs studded with brazen nails.

A little advanced from the rest, stood the captain, with the fatal bowstring hanging carelessly on his arm, and his eyes intent to catch the slightest gesture of the king. “Behold!” said Boabdil to his prisoner.

“I do; and am prepared for what I have foreseen.” The queen grew pale, but continued silent.

Muza resumed—

“Lord of the faithful!” said he, “if yestermorn I had acted otherwise, it would have been to the ruin of thy throne and our common race. The fierce Zegris suspected and learned my capture. They summoned the troops they delivered me, it is true. At that time had I reasoned with them, it would have been as drops upon a flame. They were bent on besieging thy palace, perhaps upon demanding thy abdication. I could not stifle their fury, but I could direct it. In the moment of passion, I led them from rebellion against our common king to victory against our common foe. That duty done, I come unscathed from the sword of the Christian to bare my neck to the bowstring of my friend. Alone, untracked, unsuspected, I have entered thy palace to prove to the sovereign of Granada, that the defendant of his throne is not a rebel to his will. Now summon the guards—I have done.”

“Muza!” said Boabdil, in a softened voice, while he shaded his face with his hand, “we played together as children, and I have loved thee well: my kingdom even now, perchance, is passing from me, but I could almost be reconciled to that loss, if I thought thy loyalty had not left me.”

“Dost thou, in truth, suspect the faith of Muza Ben Abil Gazan?” said the Moorish prince, in a tone of surprise and sorrow. “Unhappy king! I deemed that my services, and not my defection, made my crime.”

“Why do my people hate me? why do my armies menace?” said Boabdil, evasively; “why should a subject possess that allegiance which a king cannot obtain?”

“Because,” replied Muza, boldly, “the king has delegated to a subject the command he should himself assume. Oh, Boabdil!” he continued, passionately—“friend of my boyhood, ere the evil days came upon us,—gladly would I sink to rest beneath the dark waves of yonder river, if thy arm and brain would fill up my place amongst the warriors of Granada. And think not I say this only from our boyish love; think not I have placed my life in thy hands only from that servile loyalty to a single man, which the false chivalry of Christendom imposes as a sacred creed upon its knights and nobles. But I speak and act but from one principle—to save the religion of, my father and the land of my birth: for this I have risked my life against the foe; for this I surrender my life to the sovereign of my country. Granada may yet survive, if monarch and people unite together. Granada