The royal encampment lay so distant from Granada that the general aspect of the city only could be seen as it rose gracefully from the Vega, covering the sides of the hills with palaces and towers. Queen Isabella had expressed an earnest desire to behold nearer at hand a city whose beauty was so renowned throughout the world; and the marques of Cadiz, with his accustomed courtesy, prepared a great military escort and guard to protect her and the ladies of the court while they enjoyed this perilous gratification.
On the morning of June the 18th a magnificent and powerful train issued from the Christian camp. The advanced guard was composed of legions of cavalry, heavily armed, looking like moving masses of polished steel. Then came the king and queen, with the prince and princess and the ladies of the court, surrounded by the royal body-guard, sumptuously arrayed, composed of the sons of the most illustrious houses of Spain; after these was the rear-guard, a powerful force of horse and foot, for the flower of the army sallied forth that day. The Moors gazed with fearful admiration at this glorious pageant, wherein the pomp of the court was mingled with the terrors of the camp. It moved along in radiant line across the Vega to the melodious thunders of martial music, while banner and plume and silken scarf and rich brocade gave a gay and gorgeous relief to the grim visage of iron war that lurked beneath.
The army moved toward the hamlet of Zubia, built on the skirts of the mountain to the left of Granada, and commanding a view of the Alhambra and the most beautiful quarter of the city. As they approached the hamlet the marques of Villena, the count Urena, and Don Alonso de Aguilar fled off with their battalions, and were soon seen glittering along the side of the mountain above the village. In the mean time, the marques of Cadiz, the count de Tendilla, the count de Cabra, and Don Alonso Fernandez, senior of Alcaudrete and Montemayor, drew up their forces in battle array on the plain below the hamlet, presenting a living barrier of loyal chivalry between the sovereigns and the city.
Thus securely guarded, the royal party alighted, and, entering one of the houses of the hamlet which had been prepared for their reception, enjoyed a full view of the city from its terraced roof.
The ladies of the court gazed with delight at the red towers of the Alhambra rising from amid shady groves, anticipating the time when the Catholic sovereigns should be enthroned within its walls and its courts shine with the splendor of Spanish chivalry. "The reverend prelates and holy friars who always surrounded the queen looked with serene satisfaction," says Fray Antonio Agapida, "at this modern Babylon, enjoying the triumph that awaited them when those mosques and minarets should be converted into churches, and goodly priests and bishops should succeed to the infidel alfaquis."
When the Moors beheld the Christians thus drawn forth in full array in the plain, they supposed it was to offer battle, and hesitated not to accept it. In a little while the queen beheld a body of Moorish cavalry pouring into the Vega, the riders managing their fleet and fiery steeds with admirable address. They were richly armed and clothed in the most brilliant colors, and the caparisons of their steeds flamed with gold and embroidery. This was the favorite squadron of Muza, composed of the flower of the youthful cavaliers of Granada. Others succeeded, some heavily armed, others "a la gineta" with lance and buckler, and lastly came the legions of foot-soldiers with arquebuse and crossbow and spear and scimetar.
When the queen saw this army issuing from the city she sent to the marques of Cadiz, and forbade any attack upon the enemy or the acceptance of any challenge to a skirmish, for she was loth that her curiosity should cost the life of a single human being.
The marques promised to obey, though sorely against his will, and it grieved the spirit of the Spanish cavaliers to be obliged to remain with sheathed sword's while bearded by the foe. The Moors could not comprehend the meaning of this inaction of the Christians after having apparently invited a battle. They sallied several times from their ranks, and approached near enough to discharge their arrows, but the Christians were immovable. Many of the Moorish horsemen galloped close to the Christian ranks, brandishing their lances and scimetars and defying various cavaliers to single combat; but Ferdinand had rigorously prohibited all duels of the kind, and they dared not transgress his orders under his very eye.
Here, however, the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida, in his enthusiasm for the triumphs of the faith, records the following incident, which we fear is not sustained by any grave chronicler of the times, but rests merely on tradition or the authority of certain poets and dramatic writers who have perpetuated the tradition in their works:
While this grim and reluctant tranquillity prevailed along the Christian line, says Agapida, there rose a mingled shout and sound of laughter near the gate of the city. A Moorish horseman, armed at all points, issued forth, followed by a rabble who drew back as he approached the scene of danger. The Moor was more robust and brawny than was common with his countrymen. His visor was closed; he bore a huge buckler and a ponderous lance; his scimetar was of a Damascus blade, and his richly ornamented dagger was wrought by an artificer of Fez. He was known by his device to be Tarfe, the most insolent yet valiant of the Moslem warriors--the same who had hurled into the royal camp his lance inscribed to the queen. As he rode slowly along in front of the army his very steed, prancing with fiery eye and distended nostril, seemed to breathe defiance to the Christians.
