Виктория Холт - Spain for the Sovereigns

‘There are hazards, and he is young,’ said Christoforo. ‘But if other provision cannot be made for him . . .’

‘You are a man of dreams,’ said the monk.

‘Many of us are, and those who are not, should be. All that is accomplished on earth must begin as a dream.’

The monk rose and hurried away to his duties, but he could not forget the strange talk of the traveller; he sought out the Prior and told him of the unusual guests who had sought comfort within their walls.

* * *

Diego lay on a pallet in a small cell. He was so tired that he was soon fast asleep.

Meanwhile the Prior of Santa Maria de la Rabida had sent for Christoforo.

In the small room with bare walls apart from a large crucifix, and by the light of two candles, Christoforo spread his charts on the table and talked to the Prior of his ambitions.

Fray Juan believed he understood men. He looked at that weather-beaten face with the bright seaman’s eyes and he said to himself: This man has genius.

Fray Juan was fascinated. It was late, but he could not release the traveller. He must hear more.

And when they had talked for many hours he said suddenly: ‘Christoforo Colombo, I believe in you. I believe in your New World.’

Then Christoforo covered his face with his hands and there were tears in his eyes. He was ashamed of himself, but so intense was his relief that he could not hide his emotion.

‘You will help me to obtain an audience with the Queen?’ he asked.

‘I will do all in my power,’ answered Fray Juan. ‘You know it is not easy. She has little time. There has been trouble in Navarre, and it is the great wish of the Queen to see a Christian Spain. The war with Granada is imminent . . . in fact it has already begun. It may be that the Queen, with so much to occupy her thoughts, will have little patience with. . . a dream.’

‘You hold out little hope, Fray Juan.’

‘I implore you to have patience,’ was the answer. ‘But listen. I have a plan. I will not approach Fernando de Talavera. He is a good man, the Queen’s confessor, and I know him well, but he is so anxious to make war on the Infidel that he might be impatient of your schemes. I will, however, give you an introduction to the Duke of Medina Sidonia, who is rich and powerful and could bring your case to the notice of the Court.’

‘How can I show my gratitude?’

‘By discovering your New World. By justifying this faith I have in you.’

‘It shall be done,’ said Christoforo as though he were taking an oath.

‘There is one matter which needs consideration,’ said Fray Juan. ‘I refer to the boy, your son.’

Christoforo’s face changed and anxiety took the place of exhilaration.

Fray Juan was smiling. ‘I wish to set your mind at rest concerning him. Go to the Queen, go and find your New World. While you do these things I will undertake the charge of your son. He shall remain with us here at Rabida, and we will clothe and feed him, we will shelter and educate him until your return.’

Christoforo rose. He could not speak. The tears were visible in his eyes now.

‘Do not thank me,’ said Fray Juan. ‘Let us get to our knees and thank God. Let us do that . . . together.’

Throughout the kingdom of Granada there was mourning.

Never before had a Moorish Sultan fallen captive to a Christian army. Nor was Boabdil the only prisoner in the hands of the enemy. Many of the captured were powerful men and, as the character of Ferdinand was beginning to be known throughout Granada, it was calculated that large ransoms would be demanded before they were allowed to return.

‘Allah has turned his face from us,’ mourned the people. ‘The hostile star of Islam is scattering its malignant influences upon us. Can this mean the downfall of the Mussulman Empire?’

* * *

Muley Abul Hassan discussed the position with his brother, El Zagal.

‘Boabdil must be released without delay. The effect of his captivity on the people is becoming disastrous.’

El Zagal agreed with his brother. He was certain that Boabdil should be returned to them so that they might quash his rebellion.

‘Offer a ransom,’ he said. ‘Offer a sum which Ferdinand will find it difficult to refuse.’

‘It shall be done,’ said Muley Abul Hassan.

* * *

The Sultana Zoraya was torn between anger and anxiety. Her son, the captive of the Christians! He must be released at once.

She raged against Boabdil, who had never been a warrior. When all was well she would devote herself to the upbringing of Boabdil’s young son and make a warrior out of him.

It was imperative that Boabdil should not be allowed to remain in the hands of his captives. If he were, the people of Granada would forget they had called him their Sultan. She foresaw a return to the undisputed rule of Muley Abul Hassan. The Moors might, in their adversity, forget their differences. Then what would happen to Boabdil? Would he be left to fret in his Christian prison? What would happen to her?

When she heard that Muley Abul Hassan had offered a ransom, she was determined that further delay would be dangerous. Boabdil must not be delivered into the hands of his father.

‘What ransom has Muley Abul Hassan offered?’ she demanded to know. ‘No matter what it is, I must offer a greater.’

* * *

Ferdinand was gleeful. This was an unexpected stroke of good fortune. Boabdil was in the hands of General the Count of Cabra, having been captured by some of his men.

‘Highness,’ ran the Count’s message, ‘Boabdil, King of Granada, is now a prisoner in my castle of Baena. Here I am according him all the courtesy which his rank demands while I await Your Highness’s instructions.’

Ferdinand sat with Isabella in the Royal Council Chamber, and the fate of Boabdil was considered.

Isabella knew that Ferdinand was thinking of the large ransoms offered by Muley Abul Hassan and the Sultana Zoraya, and that he longed to lay his hands on their gold.

Ferdinand addressed the Council, saying that the ransom should be accepted and Boabdil sent back to his people.

There was an immediate outcry. Send back such a valuable prisoner! The King of Granada himself in their hands, and he to be sent back on the payment of a certain sum!

Isabella listened to the impassioned pleading, to the clash of opinion.

The Marquis of Cadiz rose and said: ‘Your Highnesses and Gentlemen of the Council, our one thought should be to weaken our enemy, to prepare him to our advantage for the final battle. What we have to consider is whether Boabdil is of more use to us here as our prisoner than there, free to cause trouble in his own kingdom.’

‘He is our captive!’ was the answer. ‘He, the leader, the King! What is an army without a leader?’

The Marquis answered: ‘But there were two leaders, other than Boabdil, in Granada – Muley Abul Hassan and El Zagal.’

Ferdinand had begun to speak and, as she listened to him, Isabella rejoiced in his shrewdness.

‘It is clear what must be done,’ said Ferdinand. ‘If Boabdil remains here there will soon be peace within Granada. Muley Abul Hassan will return to the throne with the support of his brother. There will only be one ruler . . . no longer the Old King and the Little King. By our capture of Boabdil we shall have ended civil war in Granada, and one of the greatest aids to our cause is the civil war in Granada.’

Isabella lifted her hand then and said: ‘I am sure that the path we must take is clear to us all now. The King is right. Boabdil must be returned to his people. We must not help to make peace within the kingdom of Granada. Return Boabdil to his people, and once more there, civil war will be intensified.’

‘And we shall have the ransom money,’ added Ferdinand with a gay smile. ‘Zoraya’s ransom money, for naturally he must be returned to his mother, who will help him to reorganise his forces against his father and uncle. And by God’s good grace the ransom money which she offers is greater than that suggested by Muley Abul Hassan. Heaven is with us.’ The Council then declared itself to be in agreement with Ferdinand’s suggestion; and Ferdinand took the Queen’s hand and they, with a few of their highest ministers, retired to draw up the treaty with Boabdil.

* * *

Ferdinand received Boabdil at Cordova, determined to charm his captive into a ready acceptance of his proposals.

When Boabdil would have knelt, Ferdinand put out his hand to prevent his doing so.

‘We meet as kings,’ said Ferdinand.

The two kings sat side by side in chairs which had been set for them.

‘You are blessed with a mother who gives all she has for your sake,’ said Ferdinand.

‘It is true,’ Boabdil replied.

‘And, because she has pleaded with us so touchingly, the Queen and myself are inclined to grant her request.’

‘Your Highness is munificent,’ Boabdil murmured.

Ferdinand did not deny it. ‘I will tell you briefly what terms we have drawn up, and when you have agreed to them, and your mother has sent the ransom, we shall hold you here no longer, but shall allow you to depart; for if you give us your word that you will accept these terms we shall trust you.’

Boabdil bowed his head in grateful thanks.

‘We grant a truce of two years’ standing to such territory within the kingdom of Granada which is under your dominion.’

‘I gratefully accept that,’ answered Boabdil.

‘You have been captured in battle, and it will be necessary for you to make some reparation,’ said Ferdinand smoothly. ‘Our people would not be pleased if you did not.’

‘It is understandable,’ agreed Boabdil.

‘Then you shall return to us four hundred Christian slaves for whom we shall pay no ransom.’

‘They shall be yours.’

‘You shall pay annually twelve thousand gold doblas to the Queen and myself.’

Boabdil looked less pleased, but he had known that Ferdinand would require some such reward for his clemency, and there was nothing to be done but to grant it.

‘We must ask you for a free passage through your kingdom, should we wish it while making war on your father and your uncle.’

Boabdil was taken aback by this suggestion. Ferdinand was calmly suggesting that he should play the traitor to his own country; and although Boabdil was ready to make war on his father, he hesitated before agreeing to allow the Christians a free passage through his land.

Ferdinand passed on quickly: ‘Then you may go free; but should I wish to see you at any time to discuss the differences between our kingdoms, you must come immediately to my command; and I shall require you to give your son into my possession together with the sons of certain of your nobles, that we may hold them as sureties of your good faith.’

Boabdil was stunned by these terms. But he saw the need to escape from captivity, and that there was nothing to be done but to accept them.

So Ferdinand took the ransom offered by the Sultana, and Boabdil returned to his people, bewildered, humiliated, aware that he had agreed to act as Ferdinand’s pawn to be moved at his will; and he could be certain that those moves would be made for the aggrandisement of the Sovereigns and the detriment of his own people.

Boabdil, saddened and chastened, wished that he had never listened to his mother’s advice, wished that he was now fighting the Christians on the side of his father.

* * *

Ferdinand was saying his farewell to Isabella before he set out on his journey to Aragon.

Isabella was doing her best to be patient, but it was not easy. They had made great strides in the war against the Moors; Boabdil could be said to be their creature, yet they lacked the means to continue the war against the Moors in a way which could be conclusive.

‘Always,’ cried Ferdinand, ‘we are faced with this lack of money.’

Isabella agreed that this was so and, agreeing, forgave Ferdinand his preoccupation with possessions. She knew there was a reproach in his words. She was in a position to replenish the royal coffers, yet she steadfastly refused to act. She was determined that her rule should be just, and that she would give no favours in exchange for bribes. Even though the moment seemed ripe for the attack on the Moors, she would not resort to dishonourable means of raising money. She was certain that God would turn His favour from her if she did.