Leaving our posada, and traversing the renowned square of the
Vivarrambla, once the scene of Moorish jousts and tournaments, now a
crowded market-place, we proceeded along the Zacatin, the main
street of what, in the time of the Moors, was the Great Bazaar, and
where small shops and narrow alleys still retain the oriental
character. Crossing an open place in front of the palace of the
captain-general, we ascended a confined and winding street, the name
of which reminded us of the chivalric days of Granada. It is called
the Calle or street of the Gomeres, from a Moorish family famous in
chronicle and song. This street led up to the Puerta de las
Granadas, a massive gateway of Grecian architecture, built by
Charles V, forming the entrance to the domains of the Alhambra.
At the gate were two or three ragged superannuated soldiers,
dozing on a stone bench, the successors of the Zegris and the
Abencerrages; while a tall, meagre varlet, whose rusty-brown cloak was
evidently intended to conceal the ragged state of his nether garments,
was lounging in the sunshine and gossiping with an ancient sentinel on
duty. He joined us as we entered the gate, and offered his services to
show us the fortress.
I have a traveller's dislike to officious ciceroni, and did not
altogether like the garb of the applicant.
"You are well acquainted with the place, I presume?"
"Ninguno mas; pues senor, soy hijo de la Alhambra.
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