"We will avenge thee well," said the king, setting his teeth: "let our
own leeches tend thy wounds. Forward, sir knights! St. Iago and Spain!"

The battle had now gathered to a vortex; Muza and his cavalry had joined
Boabdil and the Moorish foot. On the other hand, Villena had been
reinforced by detachments that in almost every other quarter of the field
had routed the foe. The Moors had been driven back, though inch by inch;
they were now in the broad space before the very walls of the city, which
were still crowded by the pale and anxious faces of the aged and the
women: and, at every pause in the artillery, the voices that spoke of
HOME were borne by that lurid air to the ears of the infidels. The shout
that rang through the Christian force as Ferdinand now joined it struck
like a death-knell upon the last hope of Boabdil. But the blood of his
fierce ancestry burned in his veins, and the cheering voice of Almamen,
whom nothing daunted, inspired him with a kind of superstitious frenzy.

"King against king--so be it! Let Allah decide between us!" cried the
Moorish monarch. "Bind up this wound 'tis well! A steed for the santon!
Now, my prophet and my friend, mount by the side of thy king--let us, at
least, fall together. Lelilies! Lelilies!"

Throughout the brave Christian ranks went a thrill of reluctant
admiration, as they beheld the Paynim king, conspicuous by his fair beard
and the jewels of his harness, lead the scanty guard yet left to him once
more into the thickest of their lines. Simultaneously Muza and his
Zegris made their fiery charge; and the Moorish infantry, excited by the
example of their leaders, followed with unslackened and dogged zeal. The
Christians gave way--they were beaten back: Ferdinand spurred forward;
and, ere either party were well aware of it, both kings met in the same
melee: all order and discipline, for the moment, lost, general and