Washington Irving: The Complete Travel Sketches and Memoirs Collection. Washington Irving
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it overtook on the banks of the river Xenil, a small body of Moorish soldiers with a convoy of prisoners. It was too late for the soldiers to get out of the way, so they threw themselves on their faces on the earth, ordering their captives to do the like. Among the prisoners were the three identical cavaliers whom the princesses had seen from the pavilion. They either did not understand, or were too haughty to obey the order, and remained standing and gazing upon the cavalcade as it approached.
The ire of the monarch was kindled at this flagrant defiance of his orders. Drawing his cimeter, and pressing forward, he was about to deal a left-handed blow that might have been fatal to, at least, one of the gazers, when the princesses crowded round him, and implored mercy for the prisoners; even the timid Zorahayda forgot her shyness, and became eloquent in their behalf. Mohamed paused, with uplifted cimeter, when the captain of the guard threw himself at his feet. “Let not your highness,” said he, “do a deed that may cause great scandal throughout the kingdom. These are three brave and noble Spanish knights, who have been taken in battle, fighting like lions; they are of high birth, and may bring great ransoms.”
“Enough!” said the king. “I will spare their lives, but punish their audacity — let them be taken to the Vermilion Towers, and put to hard labor.”
Mohamed was making one of his usual left-handed blunders. In the tumult and agitation of this blustering scene, the veils of the three princesses had been thrown back, and the radiance of their beauty revealed; and in prolonging the parley, the king had given that beauty time to have its full effect. In those days people fell in love much more suddenly than at present, as all ancient stories make manifest: it is not a matter of wonder, therefore, that the hearts of the three cavaliers were completely captured; especially as gratitude was added to their admiration; it is a little singular, however, though no less certain, that each of them was enraptured with a several beauty. As to the princesses, they were more than ever struck with the noble demeanor of the captives, and cherished in their breasts all that they had heard of their valor and noble lineage.
The cavalcade resumed its march; the three princesses rode pensively along on their tinkling palfreys, now and then stealing a glance behind in search of the Christian captives, and the latter were conducted to their allotted prison in the Vermilion Towers.
The residence provided for the princesses was one of the most dainty that fancy could devise. It was in a tower somewhat apart from the main palace of the Alhambra, though connected with it by the wall which encircled the whole summit of the hill. On one side it looked into the interior of the fortress, and had, at its foot, a small garden filled with the rarest flowers. On the other side it overlooked a deep embowered ravine separating the grounds of the Alhambra from those of the Generalife. The interior of the tower was divided into small fairy apartments, beautifully ornamented in the light Arabian style, surrounding a lofty hall, the vaulted roof of which rose almost to the summit of the tower. The walls and the ceilings of the hall were adorned with arabesque and fretwork, sparkling with gold and with brilliant pencilling. In the centre of the marble pavement was an alabaster fountain, set round with aromatic shrubs and flowers, and throwing up a jet of water that cooled the whole edifice and had a lulling sound. Round the hall were suspended cages of gold and silver wire, containing singing-birds of the finest plumage or sweetest note.
The princesses had been represented as always cheerful when in the castle of the Salobrena; the king had expected to see them enraptured with the Alhambra. To his surprise, however, they began to pine, and grow melancholy, and dissatisfied with every thing around them. The flowers yielded them no fragrance, the song of the nightingale disturbed their night’s rest, and they were out of all patience with the alabaster fountain with its eternal drop-drop and splash-splash, from morning till night, and from night till morning.
The king, who was somewhat of a testy, tyrannical disposition, took this at first in high dudgeon; but he reflected that his daughters had arrived at an age when the female mind expands and its desires augment. “They are no longer children,” said he to himself, “they are women grown, and require suitable objects to interest them.” He put in requisition, therefore, all the dressmakers, and the jewellers, and the artificers in gold and silver throughout the Zacatin of Granada, and the princesses were overwhelmed with robes of silk, and tissue, and brocade, and cashmere shawls, and necklaces of pearls and diamonds, and rings, and bracelets, and anklets, and all manner of precious things.
All, however, was of no avail; the princesses continued pale and languid in the midst of their finery, and looked like three blighted rosebuds, drooping from one stalk. The king was at his wits’ end. He had in general a laudable confidence in his own judgment, and never took advice. “The whims and caprices of three marriageable damsels, however, are sufficient,” said he, “to puzzle the shrewdest head.” So for once in his life he called in the aid of counsel.
The person to whom he applied was the experienced duenna.
“Kadiga,” said the king, “I know you to be one of the most discreet women in the whole world, as well as one of the most trustworthy; for these reasons I have always continued you about the persons of my daughters. Fathers cannot be too wary in whom they repose such confidence; I now wish you to find out the secret malady that is preying upon the princesses, and to devise some means of restoring them to health and cheerfulness.”
Kadiga promised implicit obedience. In fact she knew more of the malady of the princesses than they did themselves. Shutting herself up with them, however, she endeavored to insinuate herself into their confidence.
“My dear children, what is the reason you are so dismal and downcast in so beautiful a place, where you have every thing that heart can wish?”
The princesses looked vacantly round the apartment, and sighed.
“What more, then, would you have? Shall I get you the wonderful parrot that talks all languages, and is the delight of Granada?”
“Odious!” exclaimed the princess Zayda. “A horrid, screaming bird, that chatters words without ideas: one must be without brains to tolerate such a pest.”
“Shall I send for a monkey from the rock of Gibraltar, to divert you with his antics?”
“A monkey! faugh!” cried Zorayda; “the detestable mimic of man. I hate the nauseous animal.”
“What say you to the famous black singer Casem, from the royal harem, in Morocco? They say he has a voice as fine as a woman’s.”
“I am terrified at the sight of these black slaves,” said the delicate Zorahayda; “besides, I have lost all relish for music.”
“Ah! my child, you would not say so,” replied the old woman, slyly, “had you heard the music I heard last evening, from the three Spanish cavaliers, whom we met on our journey. But, bless me, children! what is the matter that you blush so, and are in such a flutter?”
“Nothing, nothing, good mother; pray proceed.”
“Well; as I was passing by the Vermilion Towers last evening, I saw the three cavaliers resting after their day’s labor. One was playing on the guitar, so gracefully, and the others sang by turns; and they did it in such style, that the very guards seemed like statues, or men enchanted. Allah forgive me! I could not help being moved at hearing the songs of my native country. And then to see three such noble and handsome youths in chains and slavery!”
Here the kindhearted old woman could not restrain her tears.
“Perhaps, mother, you could manage to procure us a sight of these cavaliers,” said Zayda.
“I think,” said Zorayda, “a little music would be quite reviving.”
The timid Zorahayda said nothing, but threw her arms round the neck of Kadiga.
“Mercy on me!” exclaimed the discreet old woman; “what are you talking of, my children? Your father would be the death of us all if he heard of such a thing. To be sure, these cavaliers are evidently well-bred, and high-minded youths; but what of that? they are the enemies of our faith, and you must not even think of them but with abhorrence.”
There is an admirable intrepidity