The western part of the kingdom of Granada had now been conquered by the Christian arms. The seaport of Malaga was captured; the fierce and warlike inhabitants of Serrania de Ronda and the other mountain-holds of the frontier were all disarmed and reduced to peaceful and laborious vassalage; their haughty fortresses, which had so long overawed the valleys of Andalusia, now displayed the standard of Castile and Aragon; the watch-towers which crowned every height, whence the infidels had kept a vulture eye over the Christian territories, were now either dismantled or garrisoned with Catholic troops. "What signalized and sanctified this great triumph," adds the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida, "were the emblems of ecclesiastical domination which everywhere appeared. In every direction rose stately convents and monasteries, those fortresses of the faith garrisoned by its spiritual soldiery of monks and friars.
The sacred melody of Christian bells was again heard among the mountains, calling to early matins or sounding the Angelus at the solemn hour of evening."*
*The worthy curate of Los Palacios intimates in his chronicle that this melody, so grateful to the ears of pious Christians, was a source of perpetual torment to the ears of infidels.
While this part of the kingdom was thus reduced by the Christian sword, the central part, round the city of Granada, forming the heart of the Moorish territory, was held in vassalage of the Castilian monarch by Boabdil, surnamed El Chico. That unfortunate prince lost no occasion to propitiate the conquerors of his country by acts of homage and by professions that must have been foreign to his heart. No sooner had he heard of the capture of Malaga than he sent congratulations to the Catholic sovereigns, accompanied with presents of horses richly caparisoned for the king, and precious cloth of gold and Oriental perfumes for the queen. His congratulations and his presents were received with the utmost graciousness, and the short-sighted prince, lulled by the temporary and politic forbearance of Ferdinand, flattered himself that he was securing the lasting friendship of that monarch.
The policy of Boabdil had its transient and superficial advantages.
The portion of Moorish territory under his immediate sway had a respite from the calamities of war, the husbandmen cultivated their luxuriant fields in security, and the Vega of Granada once more blossomed like the rose. The merchants again carried on a gainful traffic: the gates of the city were thronged with beasts of burden, bringing the rich products of every clime. Yet, while the people of Granada rejoiced in their teeming fields and crowded marts, they secretly despised the policy which had procured them these advantages, and held Boabdil for little better than an apostate and an unbeliever. Muley Abdallah el Zagal was now the hope of the unconquered part of the kingdom, and every Moor whose spirit was not quite subdued with his fortunes lauded the valor of the old monarch and his fidelity to the faith, and wished success to his standard.
