(A Legend of the Castanets)

Catalina was the many-times-great-granddaughter of Lira, the plump little girl of ancient Cadiz. And to Catalina now belonged the magic castanets.

The Moors had taken Spain away from the savage Visigoths and had built wonderful cities, palaces, and fortresses. One of these palaces was the magnificent Alhambra, set high upon a hill above the city of Granada.

It was here that Catalina danced before Boabdil (bo´Äb-del´), Arab ruler of the great Alhambra. And to the romantic young girl this beautiful "Red Castle" spelled fairy-land.

She loved its sheltered courts, its walls of brightly colored tiles, its patios of cypress trees and tinkling fountains. She loved the stately arches, the graceful columns, and she also loved a handsome young Moor named Hamet. He was a soldier in Boabdil's army.

But while Catalina lived in a dream of happiness, all was not so perfect with the Moorish ruler, Boabdil. The Christian monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella, had reconquered the kingdom of Granada.

One night after Catalina had danced in one of the great halls, she met Hamet in the Court of the Myrtles. The moon shone down upon a crystal clear pool, and birds flew about the court like fluttering ghosts.

The two young people lowered their voices as they spoke. Hamet told Catalina of desperate battles in which the Moors were being overthrown by the Christians. He seemed much disturbed.

Finally he said, "Let us go where none can hear us. I have something strange and terrible to tell you."

He led her out upon a balcony where they stood looking down upon the city of Granada. Its little white, square fairy cubicles seemed to be lit up with stars that fell down from the sky.

"It has been said," began Hamet in a low tone, "that the court astrologer predicted the downfall of the kingdom under the reign of Boabdil!"

Catalina shrank back. What if her Hamet were to be taken away from her? This was all she could think of, and the thought tortured her. She did not consider the fate of her people. She considered only herself and what she would do, were Hamet to leave her.

A short time later, Granada did indeed fall before the Christian rulers. And upon that fateful day when the palace was seized, Hamet was obliged to ride away from Granada with Boabdil, his leader.

Outside of the city, the vanquished Boabdil handed the keys of Granada to King Ferdinand. Then he and his followers rode off into the hills. The story goes that as they reached a certain hill, Boabdil stopped to gaze down upon his beloved "Red Castle," which he would never see again. And the Moor wept.

His mother chided him, saying, "You do well to weep like a woman for what you failed to defend like a man."

The hill upon which this happened is still known as "The Last Sigh of the Moor."

But to go back to Catalina at the palace. Left alone without Hamet, she did not sigh, nor did she weep. Oh, but she did storm and rage and stamp her feet.

Catalina's temper was well known in the palace. When a servant came to summon her to dance before the new rulers, his knees shook with fright.

"Fair d-dancer," he began, "w-will you c-come—?"

"I will not!" screamed Catalina, and threw her shoe at him.

Then the miserable girl sank down upon her couch and fell into a fit of weeping.

At twilight, Catalina stood upon that same balcony where Hamet had told her what the court astrologer had predicted. All had come true, and the conquest of Granada marked the end of Moorish power in Spain.

To Catalina came the voice of the town below. The Sierra Nevada Mountains raised their snowy tips, and the smell of little donkeys mingled with mountain perfumes.

One star shone, Moor-like, in the deep blue heaven. There was a fringe of orange light where the sun had just gone to bed, leaving his rosy night robe hanging on the sky.

But Catalina saw none of this beauty. Her eyes and her heart were blind with unreasonable rage. Fleeing from the balcony, she ran into the Myrtle Court.

Raising her pale little face to the fast-darkening sky, she cried, "I shall never, never, never dance again!"

With that, she threw her castanets into the deep pool in the center of the court. They sank quickly to the bottom, down, down in a black circle. The magic castanets!

Not until several days later, when Catalina's temper had cooled, did she suddenly remember the old verse which her grandmother had taught her:

What had she done? How could she have thrown away the magic castanets?

Quickly Catalina returned to the Myrtle Court. A palace attendant promised to search the pool for her. But when he did, the castanets were nowhere to be found.

The story goes that not until Catalina became a very old lady did she recover the castanets. And then nobody rightly knows how it came about.

But what we do know is that never again did Catalina see her sweetheart. For a year after he had left her, Hamet was killed in the wars.

If Catalina had not lost her temper, she would not have lost the magic castanets. And if she had not lost the magic castanets—well, would her story, perhaps, have been different?

CHAPTER VI