“The Abencerraje” 
This is a living portrait of virtue, generosity, valor, nobility, and loyalty, composed of Rodrigo de Narváez1 and the Abencerraje and Jarifa,2 as well as her father and the king of Granada. Although the two make up the body of this work, the others adorn the canvas and have left their own marks on it. And just as a precious diamond, whether set in gold or silver or lead, retains its fair value according to its carats and its luster, so too virtue shines and shows its qualities in any flawed subject, just like the seed that grows when it falls on fertile soil and in the barren soil is lost.3
“The Abencerraje” The story goes that in the time of Prince Ferdinand, who conquered Antequera, there was a knight named Rodrigo de Narváez, famous for his virtue and feats of arms. He fought the Moors with great valor, and especially in the campaign and the battle for Antequera he performed deeds worthy of eternal memory, were it not that our Spain takes such skill for granted. For it is so natural to Spain and so common here that anything one does seems too little; unlike for the Greeks and Romans, who in their writings turned men who once risked death into immortals and set them among the stars. This knight, then, did so much in the service of his king and his faith that after the town was conquered he was named governor, so that having played such a great role in taking it, he would now do the same in defending it. He was also made governor of Álora, and so commanded both garrisons, dividing his time between the two and always attending to the greater need. He was usually to be found in Álora, where he had fifty noble squires in the king’s service for the defense and safety of the town. And none was ever found lacking, for, like the immortal knights of King Darius, whenever one died, they set another in his place. They all had such great faith in their captain’s virtue and took such strength from it that nothing was ever difficult for them: they never ceased to attack their enemies and defend themselves against them. They triumphed every time they skirmished, winning honor and profit, which enriched them always.
One night when the weather was very mild, the governor spoke these words to his squires after supper:
“It seems to me, noblemen, my brothers and lords, that nothing so rouses the hearts of men as the continual exercise of arms, through which we gain experience with our own weapons and lose fear of the enemy’s. There is no need for me to invoke distant examples of this, as you yourselves are the best proof. I mention this because it has been many a day since we have done anything to increase our renown, and I would not be doing my duty to my office and my person if I let the time go to waste with such virtuous men and valiant troops at my command. It seems to me, if you are all in agreement, that with this clear and safe night beckoning to us, we should let our enemies know that the guardians of Álora do not sleep. That is my wish; do what you will.”
They answered that he should lead and all would follow him. He chose nine of them and had them armed. Once ready, they left through a hidden door so that they would not be noticed and the fortress would remain safe. Setting out on their way, they came to a fork in the road, where the governor addressed them:
“If we all take one path, our prey might escape on the other. You five take this one, and I will take the other with these four. If by chance any of you find enemies that you cannot defeat, blow your horn, and the sound of it will call the others to your aid.”
The five squires set out on their path, speaking of various things, when one of them said, “Hold on, friends, for unless I am mistaken, there is someone coming.”
They hid in a thicket by the road and heard noises. Taking a closer look, they saw a gallant Moor coming toward them on a roan horse. He was of powerful build and had a beautiful face, and he looked very fine in the saddle. He wore a crimson cloak and a damask burnoose of the same color, all embroidered in gold and silver. His right sleeve was turned back, with a beautiful lady embroidered on it, and he held a fine and sturdy lance with two points. He carried a shield and a scimitar, and wore a Tunisian head wrap with many folds that served to both adorn and protect him.4 So dressed, the Moor advanced with a noble air, singing a song he had composed in fond memory of his love, and which went like this: “Born in Granada, raised in Cártama, I fell in love in Coín, bordering Álora.”
Although the music lacked artistry, the Moor did not lack for happiness, and his heart, which was full of love, gave charm to his every word. The squires, transported by the sight of him, almost let him through before they set upon him. Finding himself ambushed, he bravely came to his senses and waited to see what they would do.
Four of the five squires rode off to the side while one attacked him. But since the Moor was more skilled in those matters, with a stroke of his lance he forced the squire and his horse to the ground. Seeing this, three of the four remaining attacked him at the same time, for he seemed to them very strong. Now there were three Christians, any one of whom could take on ten Moors, against this one Moor, and yet all of them together could not defeat him. Soon the Moor found himself in great danger, as his lance broke and the squires pressed him hard. Feigning flight, he spurred his horse on with his legs and rushed toward the squire he had unhorsed. Like a bird he swooped from his saddle and grabbed the man’s lance, and with it he turned upon the enemies who chased him as he pretended to flee. He fought so skillfully that in a short time he had two of the three on the ground. The last one, seeing his companions’ dire need, sounded his horn as he rode to help them. Now the skirmish became very fierce, for they were affronted to have one knight last so long against them, while he fought for his life and more. Then one of the squires struck him on the thigh with his lance, in a blow so hard that, had it not landed askew, it would have gone right through him. Furious at finding himself wounded, the Moor turned and struck him with the lance, throwing both horse and rider to the ground, badly wounded.
Rodrigo de Narváez drew near, sensing that his companions needed help. As he rode the best horse, he took the lead. When he witnessed the Moor’s bravery, he was astonished: the Moor had four of the five squires on the ground and the fifth one on the way.
“Moor, ride against me,” he said, “and if you defeat me, I will vouch for the others.” They joined in a bitter fight, but since the governor was fresh and the Moor and his horse were injured, Narváez pressed him so that he could not keep up. Yet seeing that his life and happiness hung on this one battle, the Moor threw such a blow at Narváez that it would no doubt have killed him, had he not stopped it with his shield. Parrying the blow, Narváez charged against him and wounded him on his right arm. Closing in, he grappled with him and threw him from his saddle to the ground. Then, leaning over him, he said, “Sir, concede defeat, or I shall kill you.”
“You may well kill me,” said the Moor, “for I am in your hands, but I cannot be vanquished except by the one who once vanquished me.”
The governor did not remark on the mystery of these words; with his usual decency, he helped the Moor to his feet, for the wound that the squire had given him on his thigh and the other one on his arm (though not severe), coupled with his great exhaustion and the fall from his horse, had quite drained him. With supplies he took from the squires, Rodrigo bound up the Moor’s wounds. Then he helped him onto one of the squires’ horses, for his own was wounded, and they took the road back to Álora. While they all rode along, discussing the Moor’s good bearing and bravery, he let out a great deep sigh and spoke a few words in Arabic that none of them could make out.5 Observing the Moor’s fine build and bearing, and recalling what he had seen him do, Rodrigo de Narváez suspected that such great sadness in such a brave heart could hardly come from what had just occurred.
To learn more, he said to him, “Sir, consider that the prisoner who loses all hope forfeits his right to liberty. Consider, too, that in war knights must both win and lose, for the better part of their battles are subject to fortune. For one who has just shown such valor, it seems like weakness to show so little now. If you sigh from the pain of your wounds, know that you are on your way to a place where you will soon be cured. If you lament your imprisonment, know that these are the ways of war, to which all who wage it are subject. And if you suffer some other secret torment, confide in me, for I promise you on my honor as a knight to do all in my power to remedy it.”
The Moor, lifting his gaze from the ground, said, “What is your name, knight, you who show such understanding of my plight?”
He responded, “They call me Rodrigo de Narváez; I am the governor of Antequera and Álora.”
The Moor, whose face brightened a bit at this, said, “Truly now some of my sorrow lifts, since though fortune was against me, it has left me in your hands. For although I have never seen you before, I have heard of your virtue and experienced your strength. So that you will not think that the pain from my wounds is what makes me sigh, and since it seems to me that you could keep any secret, send off your squires so that I may have two words with you.”
The governor had them fall back. When they were alone, the Moor said to him with a great sigh:
“Rodrigo de Narváez, renowned governor of Álora, listen to what I shall tell you now, and you shall see whether my misfortunes are enough to break the heart of a captive man. They call me Abindarráez the Younger, to distinguish me from an uncle of mine, my father’s brother, of the same name. I come from the line of the Abencerrajes of Granada, of whom you must have often heard—although my present grief is quite enough, without recalling sorrows past, I want to tell you that story.
“In Granada there lived a line of noblemen called the Abencerrajes who were the finest in the kingdom: in their elegance, good grace, disposition, and bravery they excelled all others. They were favored by the king and all the nobles and well-loved by the common people. They emerged as victors from any combat they entered and distinguished themselves in all tournaments; they devised all the finery and costumes. So one could truly say that in times of peace as in war they were a model and example for the entire kingdom. It is said that there was never an Abencerraje who was miserly or cowardly or ill disposed. A man was not considered an Abencerraje if he did not serve a lady, nor was a woman considered a lady if she had no Abencerraje as a suitor.
“Yet fortune, their great enemy, decreed that they should fall from this excellence, as you will now hear. The King of Granada, led on by false information he had received against them, did a great wrong to two of these noblemen, the bravest of them all. And it was said, though I don’t believe it, that these two and ten others at their request conspired to kill the King and divide the kingdom among themselves, avenging their insult. This conspiracy, whether true or false, was discovered, and so as not to scandalize the kingdom that loved them so, the King had them all beheaded in one night, for had he delayed his injustice, he would not have been able to carry it out. The King was offered huge ransoms for their lives, but he would not even hear of it. When the people saw that there was no hope for their lives, they began to lament anew. The fathers who had sired them wept, as did the mothers who had given birth to them; the ladies whom they served wept, as did the knights who were their companions. The common people raised such a great and lasting outcry it was as though enemies had invaded the city. If their lives could have been bought with tears, the Abencerrajes would not have died so miserably.
“Behold what became of such a distinguished lineage and its famous knights! Consider how long it takes for Fortune to raise a man and how quickly she cuts him down; how long it takes for a tree to grow and how quickly it goes to the fire; how difficult it is to build a house and how rapidly it burns! How many could learn from those wretched men, who blamelessly suffered their public disgrace! Even though they were so numerous and so important and had enjoyed the favor of the King himself, their houses were destroyed, their estates given to others, and their name proclaimed treasonous throughout the kingdom. Because of this unfortunate episode, no Abencerraje was allowed to live in Granada, except for my father and uncle, who were found innocent of this crime, on the condition that any sons born to them be raised outside the city, never to return, and any daughters married outside the kingdom.”
Rodrigo de Narváez, who observed the suffering with which the Abencerraje related his misfortunes, said to him:
“Yours is certainly a strange story, sir, and a great injustice was done to the Abencerrajes, for it is hard to believe that men such as they could have committed treason.”
“It is just as I have told you,” answered the Abencerraje, “Wait and you shall hear how, from that time on, all the Abencerrajes were unfortunate. When I came into the world from my mother’s womb, my father sent me to the governor of Cártama, his close friend, in order to fulfill the king’s decree. The governor had a daughter about my age, whom he loved more than himself, for not only was she his only child and most beautiful, but she had cost him his wife, who had died giving birth to her. She and I were as brother and sister in our childhood because that is what we heard people call us. I cannot recall a moment when we were not together. We were raised together, walked together, ate and drank together. From this closeness came a natural affection that increased with age. I remember that one afternoon when I walked into the place they call the Garden of Jasmine, I found her seated by the fountain, arranging her lovely hair. I gazed at her, vanquished by her beauty, and she seemed to me like Salmacis.6 I said to myself, ‘O to be Hermaphroditus and appear before this beautiful goddess!’ How I regretted that she was my sister! Yet I rushed to her, and when she saw me, she hurried to meet me with arms outstretched. Seating me by her side, she said to me,
‘Brother, why did you leave me alone for so long?’
‘My lady,’ I replied, ‘I have been searching for you for a long time, and no one could say where you were, until my heart told me. But tell me now, how certain are you that we are brother and sister?’
‘I only know it from the great love I have for you, and from the fact that everyone calls us that,’ she said.
‘And if we were not,’ said I, ‘would you love me as much?’
‘Can you not see,’ she said, ‘that if we were not, my father would never let us spend so much time alone together?’
‘Well, if it would mean the loss of that good fortune,’ I said, ‘I would rather have my present sorrow.’
Then she began to blush, and said, ‘What do you lose from our being brother and sister?’
‘I lose myself and you,’ I said.
‘I don’t understand you,’ she said. ‘In fact, it seems to me that simply being brother and sister naturally compels us to love one another.’
‘Only your beauty compels me. The kinship actually seems to discourage me sometimes.’
“Lowering my eyes in embarrassment at what I had said, I saw her exact likeness in the waters of the fountain. Wherever I turned my head, I saw her image, and most of all in my heart. I said to myself (for I would not have wanted anyone to hear me), ‘If I were to drown myself in the fountain where I see my lady, I would have a better excuse than Narcissus!7 If she loved me as I love her, how happy I would be! And if fortune allowed us to live together always, what a life I could lead!’
“Saying this, I stood up and gathered some of the jasmine that surrounded the fountain, threading it with myrtle to make a beautiful garland. Placing it on my head, I turned to her, both crowned and vanquished. She looked at me, more sweetly it seemed than usual, took the garland from me and placed it on her head. At that moment she seemed to me more beautiful than Venus when she was judged for the apple.8 Turning to me, she asked, ‘How do I look now, Abindarráez?’
‘As though you have just vanquished the world and they are crowning you its queen and lady,’ I answered. She stood up and took me by the hand, saying, ‘If that were the case, brother, you would lose nothing by it.’ I did not answer and instead followed her out of the garden. We led this life of dissimulation for a long time, until Love took revenge on us and exposed the ruse, for as we grew older, we both learned that we were not siblings. I know not what she felt when she first found out, but nothing has ever made me happier, although I have paid dearly for it since. No sooner were we certain of this, but the pure and healthy love we had for each other began to spoil, turning into a raging malady that will last until our deaths. Here there were no first causes to excuse because our love came from a pleasure and delight that was nothing but good. Yet the harm did not come at first, but suddenly and all at once: I now found all my joy in her, and my soul followed the measure of her soul. What I did not see in her seemed to me ugly, unnecessary, and of no use in the world; all my thoughts were with her. By this point, our pastimes had changed: I now looked at her in fear of being found out and was jealous of the very sun that touched her. Her presence wounded me, and her absence broke my heart. And yet for all this, she did not owe me anything because she paid me in the same coin. Then Fortune, jealous of our sweet life, decided to snatch away our happiness, as you shall hear.
“The king of Granada, wishing to promote the governor of Cártama, ordered him to leave his garrison for Coín, which is that town near yours, and to leave me in Cártama under the new governor. Imagine, if you have ever been in love, how my lady and I felt when we learned this disastrous news. We met in a secret place to weep at our parting. I called out to her, ‘My lady, my soul, my only happiness,’ and other names love had taught me. ‘When your beauty is far away from me, will you ever remember this captive of yours?’ Here my tears and sighs cut short my words. Forcing myself to continue, I half muttered some confused notions that I cannot even remember because my lady took my memory with her. Who could relate how she lamented, although it still seemed too little to me! She said a thousand sweet words to me that I can hear even now. Finally, so that no one would hear us, we said good-bye with many tears and sobs, and with a sigh wrenched from our souls, we gave each other an embrace as a pledge of our love.
“Then, because she saw me in such straits, looking as though I would die, she said, ‘Abindarráez, leaving you is breaking my heart, and since I know you feel the same, I want to be yours until death. My heart is yours, my life is yours, my honor and wealth. As proof of this, as soon as I find a way to meet you while my father is indisposed or away, which I eagerly await, I will send word to you from Coín, where I now go with him. Come to me wherever I am, and there I shall give you, as my husband, that which I carry with me, for neither your loyalty nor my nature would allow it otherwise, and everything else has been yours for many years.’
“With this promise my heart calmed down somewhat, and I kissed her hands for the favor she promised me. They left the next day, and I was left as one who, walking through steep and rugged mountains, loses sight of the sun. I began to feel her absence sharply and sought false cures for it. I gazed at the windows where she used to sit, the waters where she bathed, the room where she slept, the garden where she rested. I visited all her stations,9 and in all of them I found an image of my suffering. The hope she had given me that she would summon me sustained me, and so I fooled my cares somewhat. Sometimes the delay caused me even greater pain, so that I would have preferred for her to leave me in despair, which causes pain only until it is believed certain, while hope troubles us until desire is fulfilled.
“My good fortune had it so that this morning my lady fulfilled her promise to me and sent one of her trusted servants to summon me. Her father had left for Granada, called for by the King to return immediately. Revived by this good news, I readied myself. I waited for nightfall so as to leave in secret, and put on the garments in which you found me to show my lady the joy in my heart. I would not have thought that a hundred knights at once would have been enough to stop me since I carried my lady on my sleeve. If you defeated me, it was not by force, which is not possible, but rather because my bad luck or heaven’s will snatched away my good fortune. So consider now, at the end of my story, the good I have lost and the misfortune that weighs on me. I was traveling from Cártama to Coín—a short trip, although desire made it longer—the proudest Abencerraje ever: I went at the behest of my lady, to see my lady, to love my lady, and to marry my lady. Now I find myself wounded, captive and defeated, and the worst part is that the short space of my good fortune ends this evening. Allow me to find consolation in my sighs, Christian, and consider them not weakness, for it would take even greater fortune to be able to suffer such desperate straits.”
Rodrigo de Narváez was amazed and touched by the Moor’s strange affair, and since it seemed to him that nothing could harm his purpose more than delay, said to him:
“Abindarráez, I want to show you that my virtue is stronger than your ill fortune. If you give me your word as a knight to return as my captive in three days’ time, I will set you free to go on your way, since I would be sorry to prevent such an affair.”
The Moor was so happy when he heard this that he tried to throw himself at Narváez’s feet, saying, “Rodrigo de Narváez, if you do this, you will have done the greatest kindness that man ever did, and you would give me new life. As for what you ask of me, take whatever assurance you will, for I shall fulfill it.”
The governor called his squires and said, “My lords, entrust this prisoner to me, for I will guarantee his ransom.” They told him to command as he pleased. Taking the Moor’s right hand between his own, he said, “Do you swear to me as a knight to return to my castle in Álora to be my prisoner within three days?
He said, “I swear.”
“Then good luck, and if you should need me or anything else for your enterprise, it shall be done as well.”
Abindarráez thanked him and set off in haste for Coín. Rodrigo de Narváez and his squires returned to Álora, discussing the bravery and fine bearing of the Moor.
In his hurry, Abindarráez pressed on and did not take long to reach Coín, heading straight for the castle. He did not stop until he found a door, as he had been instructed. Pausing there, he began his reconnaissance to see if there was any need to defend himself. Seeing that all was well, he knocked on the door with the back of his lance, for this was the signal that the lady-in-waiting had given him. She quickly opened the door herself and said to him, “What has taken you so long, my lord? Your delay had us greatly worried. My lady has long awaited you; dismount, and you shall go to her.”
He dismounted and placed his horse in a well-hidden spot nearby. He left his lance with his shield and scimitar, and then the lady-in-waiting led him by the hand as quietly as possible so that the people of the castle would not hear him. They climbed a staircase and reached the bedchamber of the lovely Jarifa, for this was the lady’s name. She had already heard him and came out to welcome him with outstretched arms. In their great joy, they embraced without a word.
Then the lady said, “What has taken you so long, my lord? Your delay has caused me great sadness and alarm.”
“My lady,” he said, “you know full well it could not have been my negligence, but things do not always turn out the way we wish.”
She took him by the hand and led him to a secret chamber. Sitting on a bed that was there, she said, “Abindarráez, I long to show you how the captives of love keep their promises, for from the day I gave you my heart as a token, I have been trying to win it back. I ordered you to come to this castle to be my prisoner, as I am yours, and, as my husband, to make you the owner of my person and of my father’s estate, even though I suspect that shall go against his wishes. He does not know your bravery, nor has he experienced your virtue as I have, and he would like to give me a richer husband. But I take your person and my happiness to be the greatest treasure in the world.”
And saying this, she hung her head, ashamed to have revealed so much. The Moor took her in his arms, kissing her hands many times for the favor she granted him, and said, “My lady, in exchange for all the good you have offered me, I have nothing to offer you that is not yours already, save this token as a sign that I take you as my lady and wife.”
After summoning the lady-in-waiting, they spoke their marriage vows. Now, being married, they lay in their bed, where the new experience stoked the fire in their hearts. In this conquest, many loving words and actions were exchanged, which are better imagined than written.
Afterward, the Moor became lost in thought and, distracted, let out a great sigh. The lady, unable to suffer such a slight to her beauty and devotion, lovingly brought him back to his senses and asked, “What is this, Abindarráez? It seems that my happiness brings you sorrow. I hear you sigh and twist and turn all around. If I am your all and your happiness as you told me, for whom do you sigh? And if I am not, why did you deceive me? If you have found some fault with my body, look upon my devotion, which should be enough to outweigh many faults. If you serve another lady, tell me who she is so that I may serve her too. If you have another secret sorrow that will not offend me, tell me, for I will either free you from it or die in the attempt.”
The Abencerraje, embarrassed by what he had done and believing that if he did not confess he would provoke great suspicion, told her with an impassioned sigh, “My lady, if I did not love you more than myself, I would not have complained. I suffered my grief bravely when it was just my own, but now that it forces me to leave you, I have no strength to bear it. Know that my sighs come from too much fidelity rather than the lack of it. I want to tell you what has happened, so you will not wonder.”
Then he told her everything that had occurred and at the end said, “So, my lady, your captive is also the governor of Álora’s. I do not fear the sorrow of imprisonment for you taught my heart to endure, but living without you would be death itself.”
The lady smiled and told him, “Do not worry, Abindarráez. I shall take care of your ransom for it is my duty. I hold that any knight who gives his word to return to prison keeps it as long as he sends whatever ransom is asked of him. And so name the sum you see fit, for I have the keys to my father’s treasure and will give them to you so that you can send of it what you will. Rodrigo de Narváez is a praiseworthy knight. He gave you your liberty once when you entrusted this matter to him, and this now obliges him to be even more virtuous. I think he will be satisfied, since if he had you in his power, he would only ask for the same.”
The Abencerraje replied, “My lady, your great love for me prevents you from counseling me wisely; I shall certainly not commit such a great fault. If I was obliged to keep my word when I came on my own behalf to see you, now that I am yours, my obligation has redoubled. I shall return to Álora and place myself in the governor’s hands; after I do what I must, let him do as he pleases.”
“May God never allow you to go into captivity while I go free, for I would not be so,” Jarifa said. “I wish to accompany you on this journey, for neither my love for you nor my fear of my father, having offended him, will allow me any choice in the matter.”
The Moor, weeping tears of happiness, embraced her and said, “My lady, you are always granting favors upon favors; do as you please for that is what I want.”
Having come to this agreement, they gathered provisions and set out the next morning. The lady covered her face so as not to be recognized.
As they were on their way, discussing various things, they came across an old man. The lady asked him where he was going, and he answered, “I’m going to Álora for I have some business with the governor, who is the most virtuous and honorable knight I have ever known.”
Jarifa was pleased to hear this, for it seemed to her that if everyone found so much virtue in this knight, they, who were in so much need of it, would find it also. Turning to the traveler, she said, “Tell me, brother, do you know of any memorable deed this knight has done?”
“I know many,” he said, “but I can tell you one that will stand in for all the rest. This knight was first the governor of Antequera, where for a long time he was in love with a beautiful lady. He performed a thousand courtesies in her service, too many to relate. Yet even though she knew the worth of this knight, she paid him little attention because she loved her husband so much.
“It happened that one summer day, having finished dinner, she and her husband went down to an orchard in their estate. He carried a sparrowhawk on his hand and slipped it at some birds, which fled and hid in the brambles. The wise hawk, holding its body back, reached in with its talons and killed many of them. The knight fed it and, turning to the lady, said, ‘What do you think, my lady, of how cleverly the hawk trapped the birds and then killed them? I’ll have you know that when the governor of Antequera skirmishes with Moors, he pursues them and kills them like that.’ She asked who the governor was, pretending not to know him. ‘He’s the bravest and most virtuous knight I’ve ever seen.’ He began to speak of him very highly, so that the lady felt a certain regret and said to herself, ‘Well! Men are in love with this knight, and I am not, though he is in love with me? Surely I shall be forgiven for whatever I do for him, since my own husband has told me how deserving he is.’
“The next day it happened that the husband was away from the city and the lady could resist no longer, so she had a servant send for the knight. Narváez was nearly beside himself with joy, although he could hardly believe it, recalling the harshness she had always shown him. Yet he still went discreetly to see her at the appointed time. She waited for him in a hidden place, and there she realized the great wrong she had committed and the shame in seeking one who had sought her for so long. Her thoughts turned to Fame, who reveals all things; she feared the fickleness of men and the offense to her husband. All these obstacles served only to vanquish her even further, as is usually the case. Ignoring them all, she received him sweetly and ushered him into her bedchamber, where they exchanged many kind words. At last she said, ‘Lord Rodrigo de Narváez, I am yours from this day forward, as is everything in my power. Do not thank me, for all your passions and entreaties, whether true or false, had no effect on me. Rather, thank my husband, who told me such things about you that they have put me in this state.’ Then she told him about the conversation with her husband and concluded, ‘In fact, my lord, you owe more to my husband than he owes you.’
“These words struck Narváez, causing him worry and remorse for the wrong he was committing against one who had so praised him. He stepped away, and said, ‘In truth, my lady, I love you full well and shall love you always, but God forbid that I should commit such a cruel offense against one who has spoken of me so highly. Instead, from this day forward, I shall safeguard your husband’s honor as though it were my own, for that is the best way to repay him for the good things he has said of me.’ And without further ado, he left the way he came. The lady must have felt duped, yet the knight no doubt acted with great virtue and bravery, my lords, for he overcame his own desire.”
The Abencerraje and his lady were amazed at the story. He praised Narváez greatly, saying that he had never seen greater virtue in a man. She replied, “By God, my lord, I would not wish for such a virtuous servant. He must not have been too much in love since he left so quickly and the husband’s honor moved him more than the lady’s beauty.” And she said a few other clever things about the matter.
Just then they arrived at the fortress. They knocked at the gate, and it was opened by guards who already knew what had happened. One man ran to summon the governor, saying, “My lord, the Moor you defeated is here in the castle, and he has brought a noble lady with him.”
The governor suspected who it was and came downstairs. The Abencerraje, taking his bride by the hand, approached him and said:
“Rodrigo de Narváez, see whether I have kept my word, for I promised one prisoner and I bring you two, one of whom would suffice to vanquish many others. Behold my lady; consider if I have suffered rightly. Take us as your own, for I trust you with my lady and my honor.”
Narváez was delighted to see them and said to the lady, “I know not which of you owes more to the other, but I am in great debt to you both. Come in, and take your ease in this your house; consider it as such from now on, for its owner is your servant.”
With that they went to the rooms that had been prepared for them, and soon after they ate something, for they were weary from their journey. “How are your wounds, sir?” the governor asked Abindarráez.
“It seems that with the journey they are inflamed and somewhat sore, sir.”
The lovely Jarifa became upset: “What is this, my lord? You have wounds of which I know nothing?”
“My lady, whoever survives the wounds that you give thinks little of any others. It is true that the skirmish the other night left me with a few scrapes, and the journey and not tending to them must have done me some harm.”
“It would be best,” the governor said, “for you to lie down, and a surgeon from the castle will attend you.”
Immediately the lovely Jarifa began to undress him in great dismay. When the doctor came and examined him, he said it was nothing and applied an ointment to relieve the pain. In three days’ time, he was cured.
One day after dinner, the Abencerraje spoke these words: “Rodrigo de Narváez, since you are so wise, you may well surmise our situation from the manner in which we arrived. My hope is that you will be able to solve this unfortunate business. This lady is the beautiful Jarifa, of whom I spoke to you, my lady and my wife. She did not wish to remain in Coín for fear of having offended her father—she fears this even now. I know full well that the king loves you for your virtue, even though you are a Christian—I beg you to ask her father to pardon us for having done this without his knowledge, since Fortune brought it about in this way.”
The governor said to them, “Take heart, for I promise you I shall do everything in my power.” And taking ink and paper he wrote a letter to the King, which read thus:
Letter from Rodrigo de Narváez, Governor of Álora, Most noble and powerful King of Granada:
Rodrigo de Narváez, Governor of Álora, your servant, kisses your royal hands and says: the Abencerraje Abindarráez the Younger, who was born in Granada and raised in Cártama under the authority of its Governor, fell in love with the beautiful Jarifa, his daughter. Later, you favored the Governor by transferring him to Coín. The lovers were secretly betrothed to confirm their love. When Abindarráez was summoned to the fortress due to the absence of Jarifa’s father, whom you have with you, I happened across him on his way. After a skirmish I fought with him, in which he proved himself to be very valiant, I took him prisoner. When he told me his situation, I took pity on him and freed him for two days; he went to see his wife, so that on his journey he lost his freedom but won the lady. When she learned that the Abencerraje was returning to my captivity, she came with him and thus both of them are now in my power. I beg you not to let the name Abencerraje offend you, for I know that both this one and his father were not to blame in the conspiracy perpetrated against your royal person; they live as evidence of that. I entreat your Royal Highness to join me in assisting these unfortunate ones. I will pardon their ransom and will graciously release them, but only you can make her father pardon them and receive them in his good graces. And with this you will prove true to your greatness, proceeding as I would always expect of you.
When he had written the letter, he dispatched it with a squire, who gave it to the King as soon as he reached him. The King, knowing whose letter it was, was very pleased, for he loved this one Christian for his merits and good deeds. When he read it, he turned to the Governor of Coín, who was with him, and calling him aside, said:
“Read this letter from the Governor of Álora.” When Jarifa’s father read it he became very upset. The King said, “Do not be angry, even though you have good cause; know that there is nothing the Governor of Álora can ask me that I will not grant. And so I command that you go straight to Álora now to see him and to pardon your children and take them home. In return for this service, I will always favor them and you.”
The Moor resented it in his heart, but seeing that he could not avoid the King’s commandment, he put a good face on things and said he would do as his highness commanded.
He immediately left for Álora, where already they had heard from the squire what had happened and where everyone received him with great happiness and rejoicing. The Abencerraje and Jarifa came before him with great contrition and kissed his hands. He received them graciously and said:
“Let us not dwell on the past. I forgive you for having married without my consent, and as for the rest, my daughter, you chose a better husband than I could ever have given you.”
Narváez held feasts in their honor for many days, and one night, after dining in a garden, he said, “I am so proud to have played a part in bringing this matter to a good end that nothing could make me happier. The only ransom I require, therefore, is the honor of having had you as my prisoners. From this day forth, lord Abindarráez, I free you to do as you wish.”
They kissed his hands for the favor and kindness he had shown them, and the next morning they left the fortress with the Governor accompanying them partway.
Once they had arrived in Coín and were enjoying the good fortune they had so longed for, their father said to them, “My children, now that by my wish you control my estate, it would be right to show Rodrigo de Narváez the gratitude you owe him for the good deed he did you. He should not lose your ransom just because he was so generous; instead, he deserves a much larger one. I shall give you six thousand Zahene gold coins;10 send them to him and keep him henceforth as a friend, even though we are of different faiths.”
Abindarráez kissed his hands and received the doubloons. He sent them to the Governor of Álora, along with four beautiful horses and four lances with golden hilts and points, as well as four shields, and wrote him this letter:
Letter from the Abencerraje Abindarráez If you think, Rodrigo de Narváez, that by freeing me in your castle so that I could return to mine you set me free, you deceive yourself, for when you freed my body, you captured my soul. Good works make prisoners of noble hearts. Where you are in the habit of doing good to those you could destroy so as to gain honor and fame, I am obliged to thank you and serve you so as to follow my forebears and not sully the noble bloodline of the Abencerrajes but instead gather and distill in my veins all their blood that was shed. This small gift comes with the great love of the one who sends it, and that of Jarifa, which is so pure and loyal that it pleases me.
The Governor admired the worth and uniqueness of the gift, and accepting the horses, lances, and shields, he wrote this to Jarifa:
Letter from the Governor of Álora Fair Jarifa: Abindarráez has not allowed me to enjoy the real triumph of his captivity, which consists in forgiving and doing good. Since never was a mission offered me in this land so noble or worthy of a Spanish captain, I would like to enjoy it fully and to craft a statue of it for my posterity and descendants. I accept the horses and weapons to defend him from his enemies. And if by sending the coins, he proved himself a generous knight, by accepting them I would seem a greedy merchant. I grant them to you in payment for the favor you showed me by making use of me in my castle. Besides, my lady, I am not accustomed to robbing ladies, but rather to serving them and honoring them.
And with that he sent the doubloons back to them. Jarifa received them and said, “Whoever thinks to surpass Rodrigo de Narváez in combat or courtesy should think again.” And so they remained very satisfied and pleased with each other, and linked by bonds of friendship so tight that they lasted a lifetime.
1 Rodrigo de Narváez was the name of a historical person who participated in the Christian conquest of Antequera in 1410 and was named its governor by Prince Ferdinand of Antequera.
2 In Arabic, Abindarráez (the first name of the Abencerraje) means “captain’s son,” and Jarifa means “noble, precious, or beautiful one.” The Abencerraje family was a noble clan in Al-Andalus.
3 In the biblical parable (Matthew 13:3–23; Mark 4:3–20; Luke 8:5-8), Christ compares spreading his word to the sowing of seeds: just as soils may be fertile or barren, some people will be more receptive to the spreading of the Word than others.
4As we note in the introduction, fine “Moorish” garments such as those worn here by Abindarráez would have been admired and worn not only by Muslims but also by Christians of the aristocratic classes.
5 The original uses entendió (understood) instead of entendía (could understand) here: the squires may well have known Arabic but could not make out what Abindarráez mumbled. Christians on the frontier in Al-Andalus would have been likely to know Arabic. Cf. Abindarráez’s love song earlier in the text, which the squires overhear, and the language of which is never specified.
6 In the Greek myth retold by Ovid in book four of the Metamorphoses, Salmacis falls in love with Hermaphroditus (son of Hermes and Aphrodite) when he is bathing by a fountain. When he rejects her, she asks the gods to combine their bodies into one.
7 In the myth retold in book three of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, the beautiful Narcissus falls in love with his image reflected in a stream, falls in while gazing at himself, and drowns.
8 When Venus, Juno, and Minerva competed for a golden apple promised to the fairest goddess, Paris of Troy awarded Venus the prize.
9 Abindarráez visits the places where Jarifa used to be with the reverence of a worshipper viewing representations of Christ at the stations of the cross.
10 The zahén was a valuable gold coin still used by Moors in the time of the Catholic Monarchs. Some claim it is named after Abū Zayān, king of Tlemcen (Diccionario de la real academia española), while others attribute it to Zaen, the thirteenth-century king of Valencia (Cantos Benítez 1763, 94). In the late sixteenth century, 6,000 Zahene gold pieces (approximately 2,550,000 maravedís) amounts to what an average laborer (who made approximately 85 maravedís a day) could only have made after 30,000 days of work. See the introductory Note on Coinage.