ition against the Christians. Many of
the most illustrious and valiant of the Moorish nobility assembled
round his standard, magnificently arrayed in sumptuous armor and rich
embroidery, as though for a festival or a tilt of canes rather than an
enterprise of iron war. Boabdil's mother, the sultana Ayxa la Horra,
armed him for the field, and gave him her benediction as she girded his
scimetar to his side. His favorite wife Morayma wept as she thought of
the evils that might befall him. "Why dost thou weep, daughter of Ali
Atar?" said the high-minded Ayxa: "these tears become not the daughter
of a warrior nor the wife of a king. Believe me there lurks more danger
for a monarch within the strong walls of a palace than within the frail
curtains of a tent. It is by perils in the field that thy husband must
purchase security on his throne."

But Morayma still hung upon his neck with tears and sad forebodings, and
when he departed from the Alhambra she betook herself to her mirador,
overlooking the Vega, whence she watched the army as it went in shining
order along the road leading to Loxa, and every burst of warlike melody
that came swelling on the breeze was answered by a gush of sorrow.

As the royal cavalcade issued from the palace and descended through the
streets of Granada the populace greeted their youthful sovereign with
shouts, anticipating deeds of prowess that would wither the laurels of
his father. The appearance of Boabdil was well calculated to captivate
the public eye, if we may judge from the description given by the
abbot of Rute in his manuscript history of the House of Cordova. He
was mounted on a superb white charger magnificently caparisoned. His
corselets were of polished steel richly ornamented, studded with gold
nails, and lined with crimson velvet. He wore a steel casque exquisitely
chiselled and embossed; his scimetar and dagger of Damascus were of
highest temper; he had a round buckler at his shoulder and bore a
ponderous lance. In passing through the gate of Elvira, however, he
accidentally broke his lance against the arch. At this certain of his
nobles turned pale and entreated him to turn back, for they regarded
it as an evil omen. Boabdil scoffed at their fears as idle fancies. He
refused to take another spear, but drew forth his scimetar and led the
way (adds Agapida) in an arrogant and haughty style, as though he would
set both Heaven and earth at defiance. Another evil omen was sent to
dete