← catalogue

Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada, from the mss. of Fray Antonio Agapida

by Washington Irving · English · Gutenberg #3293 · 927,307 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada, from the mss. of Fray Antonio Agapida
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada, from the mss. of Fray Antonio Agapida

Author: Washington Irving


        
Release date: June 1, 2002 [eBook #3293]
                Most recently updated: September 14, 2016

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3293

Credits: Produced by Douglas E. Levy, and David Widger


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHRONICLE OF THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA, FROM THE MSS. OF FRAY ANTONIO AGAPIDA ***




Produced by Douglas E. Levy





CHRONICLE OF THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA

By Washington Irving


from the mss. of FRAY ANTONIO AGAPIDA

Author’s Revised Edition




CONTENTS.

  I..........Of the Kingdom of Granada, and the Tribute which it Paid
                 to the Castilian Crown.
  II.........Of the Embassy of Don Juan de Vera to Demand Arrears of
                 Tribute from the Moorish Monarch.
  III........Domestic Feuds in the Alhambra--Rival Sultanas--Predictions
                 concerning Boabdil, the Heir to the Throne--How
                 Ferdinand Meditates War against Granada, and how he
                 is Anticipated.
  IV.........Expedition of the Muley Abul Hassan against the Fortress
                 of Zahara.
  V..........Expedition of the Marques of Cadiz against Alhama.
  VI.........How the People of Granada were Affected on Hearing of the
                 Capture of the  Alhama; and how the Moorish King
                 sallied forth to Regain it.
  VII........How the Duke of Medina Sidonia and the Chivalry of
                 Andalusia Hastened to the Relief of Alhama.
  VIII.......Sequel of the Events at Alhama.
  IX.........Events at Granada, and Rise of the Moorish King, Boabdil
                 el Chico.
  X..........Royal Expedition against Loxa.
  XI.........How Muley Abul Hassan made a Foray into the Lands of
                 Medina Sidonia, and how he was Received.
  XII........Foray of Spanish Cavaliers among the Mountains of Malaga.
  XIII.......Effects of the Disasters among the Mountains of Malaga.
  XIV........How King Boabdil el Chico Marched over the Border.
  XV.........How the Count de Cabra sallied forth from his Castle in
                 Quest of King Boabdil.
  XVI........The Battle of Lucena.
  XVII.......Lamentations of the Moors for the Battle of Lucena.
  XVIII......How Muley Abul Hassan Profited by the Misfortunes of his
                 Son Boabdil.
  XIX........Captivity of Boabdil el Chico.
  XX.........Of the Treatment of Boabdil by the Castilian Sovereigns.
  XXI........Return of Boabdil from Captivity.
  XXII.......Foray of the Moorish Alcaydes, and Battle of Lopera.
  XXIII......Retreat of Hamet el Zegri, Alcayde of Ronda.
  XXIV.......Of the reception at Court of the Count de Cabra and the
                 Alcayde de los Donceles.
  XXV........How the Marques of Cadiz concerted to Surprise Zahara,
                 and the Result of his Enterprise.
  XXVI.......Of the Fortress of Alhama, and how Wisely it was Governed
                 by the Count de Tendilla.
  XXVII......Foray of Christian Knights into the Territory of the Moors.
  XXVIII.....Attempt of El Zagal to Surprise Boabdil in Almeria.
  XXIX.......How King Ferdinand Commenced another Campaign against the
                 Moors, and how he Laid Siege to Coin and Cartama.
  XXX........Siege of Ronda.
  XXXI.......How the People of Granada invited El Zagal to the Throne,
                 and how he Marched to the Capital.
  XXXII......How the Count de Cabra attempted to Capture another King,
                 and how he Fared in his Attempt.
  XXXIII.....Expedition against the Castles of Cambil and Albahar.
  XXXIV......Enterprise of the Knights of Calatrava against Zalea.
  XXXV.......Death of Muley Abul Hassan.
  XXXVI......Of the Christian Army which Assembled at the City of
                 Cordova.
  XXXVII.....How Fresh Commotions broke out in Granada, and how the
                 People undertook to Allay them.
  XXXVIII....How King Ferdinand held a Council of War at the Rock of
                 the Lovers.
  XXXIX......How the Royal Army appeared Before the City of Loxa, and
                 how it was Received; and of the Doughty Achievements
                 of the English Earl.
  XL.........Conclusion of the Siege of Loxa.
  XLI........Capture of Illora.
  XLII.......Of the Arrival of Queen Isabella at the Camp before Moclin;
                 and of the Pleasant Sayings of the English Earl.
  XLIII......How King Ferdinand Attacked Moclin, and of the Strange
                 Events that attended its Capture.
  XLIV.......How King Ferdinand Foraged the Vega; and of the Battle of
                 the Bridge of Pinos, and the Fate of the two Moorish
                 Brothers.
  XLV........Attempt of El Zagal upon the Life of Boabdil, and how the
                 Latter was Roused to Action.
  XLVI.......How Boabdil returned Secretly to Granada, and how he was
                 Received.--Second Embassy of Don Juan de Vera, and his
                 Perils in the Alhambra.
  XLVII......How King Ferdinand laid Siege to Velez Malaga.
  XLVIII.....How King Ferdinand and his Army were Exposed to Imminent
                 Peril before Velez Malaga.
  XLIX.......Result of the Stratagem of El Zagal to Surprise King
                 Ferdinand.
  L..........How the People of Granada Rewarded the Valor of El Zagal.
  LI.........Surrender of the Velez Malaga and Other Places.
  LII........Of the City of Malaga and its Inhabitants.--Mission of
                 Hernando del Pulgar.
  LIII.......Advance of King Ferdinand against Malaga.
  LIV........Siege of Malaga.
  LV.........Siege of Malaga continued.--Obstinacy of Hamet el Zegri.
  LVI........Attack of the Marques of Cadiz upon Gibralfaro.
  LVII.......Siege of Malaga continued.--Stratagems of Various Kinds.
  LVIII......Sufferings of the People of Malaga.
  LIX........How a Moorish Santon Undertook to Deliver the City of
                 Malaga from the Power of its Enemies.
  LX.........How Hamet el Zegri was Hardened in his Obstinacy by the
                 Arts of a Moorish Astrologer.
  LXI........Siege of Malaga continued.--Destruction of a Tower by
                 Francisco Ramirez de Madrid.
  LXII.......How the People of Malaga expostulated with Hamet el Zegri.
  LXIII......How Hamet el Zegri Sallied forth with the Sacred Banner to
                 Attack the Christian Camp.
  LXIV.......How the City of Malaga Capitulated.
  LXV........Fulfilment of the Prophecy of the Dervise.--Fate of Hamet
                 el Zegri.
  LXVI.......How the Castilian Sovereigns took Possession of the City
                 of Malaga, and how King Ferdinand signalized himself
                 by his Skill in Bargaining with the Inhabitants for
                 their Ransom.
  LXVII......How King Ferdinand prepared to Carry the War into a
                 Different Part of the Territories of the Moors.
  LXVIII.....How King Ferdinand Invaded the Eastern Side of the
                 Kingdom of Granada, and how He was Received by
                 El Zagal.
  LXIX.......How the Moors made Various Enterprises against the
                 Christians.
  LXX........How King Ferdinand prepared to Besiege the City of Baza,
                 and how the City prepared for Defence.
  LXXI.......The Battle of the Gardens before Baza.
  LXXII......Siege of Baza.--Embarrassments of the Army.
  LXXIII.....Siege of Baza continued.--How King Ferdinand completely
                 Invested the City.
  LXXIV......Exploit of Hernan Perez del Pulgar and Other Cavaliers.
  LXXV.......Continuation of the Siege of Baza.
  LXXVI......How Two Friars from the Holy Land arrived at the Camp.
  LXXVII.....How Queen Isabella devised Means to Supply the Army
                 with Provisions.
  LXXVIII....Of the Disasters which Befell the Camp.
  LXXIX......Encounters between the Christians and Moors before Baza,
                 and the Devotion of the Inhabitants to the Defence of
                 their City.
  LXXX.......How Queen Isabella arrived at the Camp, and the
                 Consequences of her Arrival.
  LXXXI......Surrender of Baza.
  LXXXII.....Submission of El Zagal to the Castilian Sovereigns.
  LXXXIII....Events at Granada subsequent to the Submission of El Zagal.
  LXXXIV.....How King Ferdinand turned his Hostilities against the City
                 of Granada.
  LXXXV......The Fate of the Castle of Roma.
  LXXXVI.....How Boabdil el Chico took the Field, and his Expedition
                 against Alhendin.
  LXXXVII....Exploit of the Count de Tendilla.
  LXXXVIII...Expedition of Boabdil el Chico against Salobrena.--Exploit
                 of Hernan Perez del Pulgar.
  LXXXIX.....How King Ferdinand Treated the People of Guadix, and how
                 El Zagal Finished his Regal Career.
  XC.........Preparations of Granada for a Desperate Defence.
  XCI........How King Ferdinand conducted the Siege cautiously, and
                 how Queen Isabella arrived at the Camp.
  XCII.......Of the Insolent Defiance of Tarfe the Moor, and the Daring
                 Exploit of Hernan Perez del Pulgar.
  XCIII......How Queen Isabella took a View of the City of Granada, and
                 how her Curiosity cost the Lives of many Christians
                 and Moors.
  XCIV.......The Last Ravage before Granada.
  XCV........Conflagration of the Christian Camp.--Building of Santa Fe.
  XCVI.......Famine and Discord in the City.
  XCVII......Capitulation of Granada.
  XCVIII.....Commotions in Granada.
  XCIX.......Surrender of Granada.
  C..........How the Castilian Sovereigns took Possession of Granada.

  Appendix.




INTRODUCTION.


Although the following Chronicle bears the name of the venerable Fray
Antonio Agapida, it is rather a superstructure reared upon the fragments
which remain of his work. It may be asked, Who is this same Agapida, who
is cited with such deference, yet whose name is not to be found in any
of the catalogues of Spanish authors? The question is hard to answer. He
appears to have been one of the many indefatigable authors of Spain who
have filled the libraries of convents and cathedrals with their
tomes, without ever dreaming of bringing their labors to the press. He
evidently was deeply and accurately informed of the particulars of the
wars between his countrymen and the Moors, a tract of history but too
much overgrown with the weeds of fable. His glowing zeal, also, in the
cause of the Catholic faith entitles him to be held up as a model of the
good old orthodox chroniclers, who recorded with such pious exultation
the united triumphs of the cross and the sword. It is deeply to be
regretted, therefore, that his manuscripts, deposited in the libraries
of various convents, have been dispersed during the late convulsions
in Spain, so that nothing is now to be met of them but disjointed
fragments. These, however, are too precious to be suffered to fall into
oblivion, as they contain many curious facts not to be found in any
other historian. In the following work, therefore, the manuscript of the
worthy Fray Antonio will be adopted wherever it exists entire, but will
be filled up, extended, illustrated, and corroborated by citations
from various authors, both Spanish and Arabian, who have treated of the
subject. Those who may wish to know how far the work is indebted to the
Chronicle of Fray Antonio Agapida may readily satisfy their curiosity
by referring to his manuscript fragments, carefully preserved in the
Library of the Escurial.

Before entering upon the history it may be as well to notice the
opinions of certain of the most learned and devout historiographers of
former times relative to this war.

Marinus Siculus, historian to Charles V., pronounces it a war to avenge
ancient injuries received by the Christians from the Moors, to recover
the kingdom of Granada, and to extend the name and honor of the
Christian religion.*


     * Lucio Marino Siculo, Cosas Memorabiles de Espana, lib. 20.


Estevan de Garibay, one of the most distinguished Spanish historians,
regards the war as a special act of divine clemency toward the Moors, to
the end that those barbarians and infidels, who had dragged out so many
centuries under the diabolical oppression of the absurd sect of Mahomet,
should at length be reduced to the Christian faith.*


     * Garibay, Compend. Hist. Espana, lib. 18, c. 22.


Padre Mariana, also a venerable Jesuit and the most renowned historian
of Spain, considers the past domination of the Moors a scourge inflicted
on the Spanish nation for its iniquities, but the conquest of Granada
the reward of Heaven for its great act of propitiation in establishing
the glorious tribunal of the Inquisition! No sooner (says the worthy
father) was this holy office opened in Spain than there shone forth a
resplendent light. Then it was that, through divine favor, the nation
increased in power, and became competent to overthrow and trample down
the Moorish domination.*


     * Mariana, Hist. Espana, lib. 25, c. 1.


Having thus cited high and venerable authority for considering this war
in the light of one of those pious enterprises denominated crusades, we
trust we have said enough to engage the Christian reader to follow us
into the field and stand by us to the very issue of the encounter.




NOTE TO THE REVISED EDITION.


The foregoing introduction, prefixed to the former editions of this
work, has been somewhat of a detriment to it. Fray Antonio Agapida was
found to be an imaginary personage, and this threw a doubt over the
credibility of his Chronicle, which was increased by a vein of irony
indulged here and there, and by the occasional heightening of some of
the incidents and the romantic coloring of some of the scenes. A word or
two explanatory may therefore be of service.*


     * Many of the observations in this note have already appeared in
an explanatory article which at Mr. Murray’s request, the author
furnished to the London Quarterly Review.


The idea of the work was suggested while I was occupied at Madrid in
writing the Life of Columbus. In searching for traces of his early life
I was led among the scenes of the war of Granada, he having followed the
Spanish sovereigns in some of their campaigns, and been present at the
surrender of the Moorish capital. I actually wove some of these scenes
into the biography, but found they occupied an undue space, and stood
out in romantic relief not in unison with the general course of the
narrative. My mind, however, had become so excited by the stirring
events and romantic achievements of this war that I could not return
with composure to the sober biography I had in hand. The idea then
occurred, as a means of allaying the excitement, to throw off a rough
draught of the history of this war, to be revised and completed at
future leisure. It appeared to me that its true course and character
had never been fully illustrated. The world had received a strangely
perverted idea of it through Florian’s romance of “Gonsalvo of Cordova,”
 or through the legend, equally fabulous, entitled “The Civil Wars of
Granada,” by Ginez Perez de la Hita, the pretended work of an Arabian
contemporary, but in reality a Spanish fabrication. It had been woven
over with love-tales and scenes of sentimental gallantry totally
opposite to its real character; for it was, in truth, one of the
sternest of those iron conflicts sanctified by the title of “holy wars.”
 In fact, the genuine nature of the war placed it far above the need
of any amatory embellishments. It possessed sufficient interest in the
striking contrast presented by the combatants of Oriental and European
creeds, costumes, and manners, and in the hardy and harebrained
enterprises, the romantic adventures, the picturesque forays through
mountain regions, the daring assaults and surprisals of cliff-built
castles and cragged fortresses, which succeeded each other with a
variety and brilliancy beyond the scope of mere invention.

The time of the contest also contributed to heighten the interest.
It was not long after the invention of gunpowder, when firearms and
artillery mingled the flash and smoke and thunder of modern warfare with
the steely splendor of ancient chivalry, and gave an awful magnificence
and terrible sublimity to battle, and when the old Moorish towers and
castles, that for ages had frowned defiance to the battering-rams and
catapults of classic tactics, were toppled down by the lombards of
the Spanish engineers. It was one of the cases in which history rises
superior to fiction.

The more I thought about the subject, the more I was tempted to
undertake it, and the facilities at hand at length determined me. In the
libraries of Madrid and in the private library of the American consul,
Mr. Rich, I had access to various chronicles and other works, both
printed and in manuscript, written at the time by eyewitnesses, and
in some instances by persons who had actually mingled in the scenes
recorded and gave descriptions of them from different points of view and
with different details. These works were often diffuse and tedious,
and occasionally discolored by the bigotry, superstition, and fierce
intolerance of the age; but their pages were illumined at times with
scenes of high emprise, of romantic generosity, and heroic valor, which
flashed upon the reader with additional splendor from the surrounding
darkness. I collated these various works, some of which have never
appeared in print, drew from each facts relative to the different
enterprises, arranged them in as clear and lucid order as I could
command, and endeavored to give them somewhat of a graphic effect by
connecting them with the manners and customs of the age in which they
occurred. The rough draught being completed, I laid the manuscript aside
and proceeded with the Life of Columbus. After this was finished and
sent to the press I made a tour in Andalusia, visited the ruins of the
Moorish towns, fortresses, and castles, and the wild mountain-passes and
defiles which had been the scenes of the most remarkable events of the
war, and passed some time in the ancient palace of the Alhambra, the
once favorite abode of the Moorish monarchs. Everywhere I took notes,
from the most advantageous points of view, of whatever could serve to
give local verity and graphic effect to the scenes described. Having
taken up my abode for a time at Seville, I then resumed my manuscript
and rewrote it, benefited by my travelling notes and the fresh and vivid
impressions of my recent tour. In constructing my chronicle I adopted
the fiction of a Spanish monk as the chronicler. Fray Antonio Agapida
was intended as a personification of the monkish zealots who hovered
about the sovereigns in their campaigns, marring the chivalry of the
camp by the bigotry of the cloister, and chronicling in rapturous
strains every act of intolerance toward the Moors. In fact, scarce a
sally of the pretended friar when he bursts forth in rapturous eulogy of
some great stroke of selfish policy on the part of Ferdinand, or exults
over some overwhelming disaster of the gallant and devoted Moslems,
but is taken almost word for word from one or other of the orthodox
chroniclers of Spain.

The ironical vein also was provoked by the mixture of kingcraft and
priestcraft discernible throughout this great enterprise, and the
mistaken zeal and self-delusion of many of its most gallant and generous
champions. The romantic coloring seemed to belong to the nature of the
subject, and was in harmony with what I had seen in my tour through the
poetical and romantic regions in which the events had taken place. With
all these deductions the work, in all its essential points, was faithful
to historical fact and built upon substantial documents. It was a great
satisfaction to me, therefore, after the doubts that had been expressed
of the authenticity of my chronicle, to find it repeatedly and largely
used by Don Miguel Lafuente Alcantara of Granada in his recent
learned and elaborate history of his native city, he having had ample
opportunity, in his varied and indefatigable researches, of judging how
far it accorded with documentary authority.

I have still more satisfaction in citing the following testimonial of
Mr. Prescott, whose researches for his admirable history of Ferdinand
and Isabella took him over the same ground I had trodden. His
testimonial is written in the liberal and courteous spirit
characteristic of him, but with a degree of eulogium which would make me
shrink from quoting it did I not feel the importance of his voucher for
the substantial accuracy of my work:

“Mr. Irving’s late publication, the ‘Chronicle of the Conquest
of Granada,’ has superseded all further necessity for poetry and,
unfortunately for me, for history. He has fully availed himself of all
the picturesque and animating movement of this romantic era, and the
reader who will take the trouble to compare his chronicle with the
present more prosaic and literal narrative will see how little he
has been seduced from historic accuracy by the poetical aspect of his
subject. The fictitious and romantic dress of his work has enabled him
to make it the medium of reflecting more vividly the floating opinions
and chimerical fancies of the age, while he has illuminated the picture
with the dramatic brilliancy of coloring denied to sober history.” *


     * Prescott’s Ferdinand and Isabella, vol. ii. c. 15.


In the present edition I have endeavored to render the work more worthy
of the generous encomium of Mr. Prescott. Though I still retain the
fiction of the monkish author Agapida, I have brought my narrative more
strictly within historical bounds, have corrected and enriched it in
various parts with facts recently brought to light by the researches
of Alcantara and others, and have sought to render it a faithful and
characteristic picture of the romantic portion of history to which it
relates.

W. I.

Sunnyside, 1850.




A CHRONICLE OF THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA.



CHAPTER I.

OF THE KINGDOM OF GRANADA, AND THE TRIBUTE WHICH IT PAID TO THE
CASTILIAN CROWN.


The history of those bloody and disastrous wars which have caused the
downfall of mighty empires (observes Fray Antonio Agapida) has ever been
considered a study highly delectable and full of precious edification.
What, then, must be the history of a pious crusade waged by the most
Catholic of sovereigns to rescue from the power of the infidels one of
the most beautiful but benighted regions of the globe? Listen, then,
while from the solitude of my cell I relate the events of the conquest
of Granada, where Christian knight and turbaned infidel disputed, inch
by inch, the fair land of Andalusia, until the Crescent, that symbol of
heathenish abomination, was cast down, and the blessed Cross, the tree
of our redemption, erected in its stead.

Nearly eight hundred years were past and gone since the Arabian invaders
had sealed the perdition of Spain by the defeat of Don Roderick, the
last of her Gothic kings. Since that disastrous event one portion after
another of the Peninsula had been gradually recovered by the Christian
princes, until the single but powerful and warlike territory of Granada
alone remained under the domination of the Moors.

This renowned kingdom, situated in the southern part of Spain and washed
on one side by the Mediterranean Sea, was traversed in every direction
by sierras or chains of lofty and rugged mountains, naked, rocky, and
precipitous, rendering it almost impregnable, but locking up within
their sterile embraces deep, rich, and verdant valleys of prodigal
fertility.

In the centre of the kingdom lay its capital, the beautiful city of
Granada, sheltered, as it were, in the lap of the Sierra Nevada, or
Snowy Mountains. Its houses, seventy thousand in number, covered two
lofty hills with their declivities and a deep valley between them,
through which flowed the Darro. The streets were narrow, as is usual in
Moorish and Arab cities, but there were occasionally small squares and
open places. The houses had gardens and interior courts, set out with
orange, citron, and pomegranate trees and refreshed by fountains, so
that as the edifices ranged above each other up the sides of the hills,
they presented a delightful appearance of mingled grove and city. One of
the hills was surmounted by the Alcazaba, a strong fortress commanding
all that part of the city; the other by the Alhambra, a royal palace and
warrior castle, capable of containing within its alcazar and towers
a garrison of forty thousand men, but possessing also its harem, the
voluptuous abode of the Moorish monarchs, laid out with courts and
gardens, fountains and baths, and stately halls decorated in the most
costly style of Oriental luxury. According to Moorish tradition, the
king who built this mighty and magnificent pile was skilled in the
occult sciences, and furnished himself with the necessary funds by means
of alchemy.* Such was its lavish splendor that even at the present day
the stranger, wandering through its silent courts and deserted halls,
gazes with astonishment at gilded ceilings and fretted domes, the
brilliancy and beauty of which have survived the vicissitudes of war and
the silent dilapidation of ages.


     * Zurita, lib. 20, c. 42.


The city was surrounded by high walls, three leagues in circuit,
furnished with twelve gates and a thousand and thirty towers. Its
elevation above the sea and the neighborhood of the Sierra Nevada
crowned with perpetual snows tempered the fervid rays of summer, so that
while other cities were panting with the sultry and stifling heat of the
dog-days, the most salubrious breezes played through the marble halls of
Granada.

The glory of the city, however, was its Vega or plain, which spread
out to a circumference of thirty-seven leagues, surrounded by lofty
mountains, and was proudly compared to the famous plain of Damascus. It
was a vast garden of delight, refreshed by numerous fountains and by the
silver windings of the Xenil. The labor and ingenuity of the Moors had
diverted the waters of this river into thousands of rills and streams,
and diffused them over the whole surface of the plain. Indeed, they had
wrought up this happy region to a degree of wonderful prosperity, and
took a pride in decorating it as if it had been a favorite mistress. The
hills were clothed with orchards and vineyards, the valleys embroidered
with gardens, and the wide plains covered with waving grain. Here were
seen in profusion the orange, the citron, the fig, and the pomegranate,
with great plantations of mulberry trees, from which was produced the
finest silk. The vine clambered from tree to tree, the grapes hung in
rich clusters about the peasant’s cottage, and the groves were rejoiced
by the perpetual song of the nightingale. In a word, so beautiful was
the earth, so pure the air, and so serene the sky of this delicious
region that the Moors imagined the paradise of their Prophet to be
situated in that part of the heaven which overhung the kingdom of
Granada.

Within this favored realm, so prodigally endowed and strongly fortified
by nature, the Moslem wealth, valor, and intelligence, which had once
shed such a lustre over Spain, had gradually retired, and here they made
their final stand. Granada had risen to splendor on the ruin of other
Moslem kingdoms, but in so doing had become the sole object of Christian
hostility, and had to maintain its very existence by the sword. The
Moorish capital accordingly presented a singular scene of Asiatic luxury
and refinement, mingled with the glitter and the din of arms. Letters
were still cultivated, philosophy and poetry had their schools and
disciples, and the language spoken was said to be the most elegant
Arabic. A passion for dress and ornament pervaded all ranks. That of
the princesses and ladies of high rank, says Al Kattib, one of their
own writers, was carried to a height of luxury and magnificence that
bordered on delirium. They wore girdles and bracelets and anklets of
gold and silver, wrought with exquisite art and delicacy and studded
with jacinths, chrysolites, emeralds, and other precious stones. They
were fond of braiding and decorating their beautiful long tresses or
confining them in knots sparkling with jewels. They were finely formed,
excessively fair, graceful in their manners, and fascinating in their
conversation; when they smiled, says Al Kattib, they displayed teeth of
dazzling whiteness, and their breath was as the perfume of flowers.

The Moorish cavaliers, when not in armor, delighted in dressing
themselves in Persian style, in garments of wool, of silk, or cotton of
the finest texture, beautifully wrought with stripes of various colors.
In winter they wore, as an outer garment, the African cloak or Tunisian
albornoz, but in the heat of summer they arrayed themselves in linen
of spotless whiteness. The same luxury prevailed in their military
equipments. Their armor was inlaid and chased with gold and silver. The
sheaths of their scimetars were richly labored and enamelled, the blades
were of Damascus bearing texts from the Koran or martial and amorous
mottoes; the belts were of golden filigree studded with gems; their
poniards of Fez were wrought in the arabesque fashion; their lances bore
gay bandaroles; their horses were sumptuously caparisoned with housings
of green and crimson velvet, wrought with silk and enamelled with
gold and silver. All this warlike luxury of the youthful chivalry was
encouraged by the Moorish kings, who ordained that no tax should be
imposed on the gold and silver employed in these embellishments; and the
same exception was extended to the bracelets and other ornaments worn
by the fair dames of Granada.

Of the chivalrous gallantry which prevailed between the sexes in this
romantic period of Moorish history we have traces in the thousand
ballads which have come down to our day, and which have given a tone
and coloring to Spanish amatory literature and to everything in Spain
connected with the tender passion.

War was the normal state of Granada and its inhabitants; the common
people were subject at any moment to be summoned to the field, and all
the upper class was a brilliant chivalry. The Christian princes, so
successful in regaining the rest of the Peninsula, found their triumphs
checked at the mountain-boundaries of this kingdom. Every peak had its
atalaya, or watch-tower, ready to make its fire by night or to send
up its column of smoke by day, a signal of invasion at which the whole
country was on the alert. To penetrate the defiles of this perilous
country, to surprise a frontier fortress, or to make a foray into the
Vega and a hasty ravage within sight of the very capital were among the
most favorite and daring exploits of the Castilian chivalry. But they
never pretended to hold the region thus ravaged; it was sack, burn,
plunder, and away; and these desolating inroads were retaliated in
kind by the Moorish cavaliers, whose greatest delight was a “tala,”
 or predatory incursion, into the Christian territories beyond the
mountains.

A partisan warfare of this kind had long existed between Granada and its
most formidable antagonists, the kingdoms of Castile and Leon. It was
one which called out the keen yet generous rivalry of Christian and
Moslem cavaliers, and gave rise to individual acts of chivalrous
gallantry and daring prowess; but it was one which was gradually
exhausting the resources and sapping the strength of Granada. One of the
latest of its kings, therefore, Aben Ismael by name, disheartened by a
foray which had laid waste the Vega, and conscious that the balance of
warfare was against his kingdom, made a truce in 1457 with Henry IV.,
king of Castile and Leon, stipulating to pay him an annual tribute of
twelve thousand doblas or pistoles of gold, and to liberate annually six
hundred Christian captives, or in default of captives to give an
equal number of Moors as hostages,--all to be delivered at the city of
Cordova.*


     * Garibay, Compend., 1.17, c. 3.


The truce, however, was of a partial nature, with singular reservations.
It did not include the Moorish frontier toward Jaen, which was to
remain open for the warlike enterprises of either nation; neither did it
prohibit sudden attacks upon towns and castles, provided they were mere
forays, conducted furtively, without sound of trumpet or display of
banners or pitching of camps or regular investment, and that they did
not last above three days.*


     * Zurita, Anales de Aragon, 1. 20, c. 42; Mariana, Hist. de Espana 1.
25, c. 1; Bleda, Coron. de los Moros, l. 5, c. 3.


Aben Ismael was faithful in observing the conditions of the truce, but
they were regarded with impatience by his eldest son, Muley Abul Hassan,
a prince of a fiery and belligerent spirit, and fond of casing himself
in armor and mounting his war-horse. He had been present at Cordova at
one of the payments of tribute, and had witnessed the scoffs and
taunts of the Christians, and his blood boiled whenever he recalled the
humiliating scene. When he came to the throne in 1465, on the death of
his father, he ceased the payment of the tribute altogether, and it was
sufficient to put him into a tempest of rage only to mention it.

“He was a fierce and warlike infidel,” says the pious Fray Antonio
Agapida; “his bitterness against the holy Christian faith had been
signalized in battle during the lifetime of his father, and the same
diabolical spirit of hostility was apparent in his ceasing to pay this
most righteous tribute.”



CHAPTER II.

OF THE EMBASSY OF DON JUAN DE VERA TO DEMAND ARREARS OF TRIBUTE FROM THE
MOORISH MONARCH.


The flagrant want of faith of Muley Abul Hassan in fulfilling treaty
stipulations passed unresented during the residue of the reign of
Henry the Impotent, and the truce was tacitly continued without the
enforcement of tribute during the first three years of the reign of his
successors, Ferdinand and Isabella of glorious and happy memory, who
were too much engrossed by civil commotions in their own dominions, and
by a war of succession waged with them by the king of Portugal, to risk
an additional conflict with the Moorish sovereign. When, however, at the
expiration of the term of truce, Muley Abul Hassan sought a renewal of
it, the pride and piety of the Castilian sovereigns were awakened to
the flagrant defalcation of the infidel king, and they felt themselves
called upon, by their dignity as monarchs and their religious
obligations as champions of the faith, to make a formal demand for the
payment of arrearages.

In the year of grace 1478, therefore, Don Juan de Vera, a zealous and
devout knight, full of ardor for the faith and loyalty to the Crown,
was sent as ambassador for the purpose. He was armed at all points,
gallantly mounted, and followed by a moderate but well-appointed
retinue: in this way he crossed the Moorish frontier, and passed slowly
through the country, looking round him with the eyes of a practised
warrior and carefully noting its military points and capabilities. He
saw that the Moor was well prepared for possible hostilities. Every town
was strongly fortified. The Vega was studded with towers of refuge for
the peasantry: every pass of the mountain had its castle of defence,
every lofty height its watch-tower. As the Christian cavaliers passed
under the walls of the fortresses, lances and scimetars flashed from
their battlements, and the Moorish sentinels darted from their dark
eyes glances of hatred and defiance. It was evident that a war with
this kingdom must be a war of posts, full of doughty peril and valiant
enterprise, where every step must be gained by toil and bloodshed,
and maintained with the utmost difficulty. The warrior spirit of
the cavaliers kindled at the thoughts, and they were impatient for
hostilities; “not,” says Antonio Agapida, “from any thirst for rapine
and revenge, but from that pure and holy indignation which every Spanish
knight entertained at beholding this beautiful dominion of his ancestors
defiled by the footsteps of infidel usurpers. It was impossible,” he
adds, “to contemplate this delicious country, and not long to see it
restored to the dominion of the true faith and the sway of the Christian
monarchs.”

Arrived at the gates of Granada, Don Juan de Vera and his companions
saw the same vigilant preparations on the part of the Moorish king. His
walls and towers were of vast strength, in complete repair, and mounted
with lombards and other heavy ordnance. His magazines were well stored
with the munitions of war; he had a mighty host of foot-soldiers,
together with squadrons of cavalry, ready to scour the country and carry
on either defensive or predatory warfare. The Christian warriors noted
these things without dismay; their hearts rather glowed with emulation
at the thoughts of encountering so worthy a foe. As they slowly pranced
through the streets of Granada they looked round with eagerness on
the stately palaces and sumptuous mosques, on its alcayceria or bazar,
crowded with silks and cloth of silver and gold, with jewels and
precious stones, and other rich merchandise, the luxuries of every
clime; and they longed for the time when all this wealth should be the
spoil of the soldiers of the faith, and when each tramp of their steeds
might be fetlock deep in the blood and carnage of the infidels.

The Moorish inhabitants looked jealously at this small but proud array
of Spanish chivalry, as it paraded, with that stateliness possessed only
by Spanish cavaliers, through the renowned gate of Elvira. They were
struck with the stern and lofty demeanor of Don Juan de Vera and his
sinewy frame, which showed him formed for hardy deeds of arms, and they
supposed he had come in search of distinction by defying the Moorish
knights in open tourney or in the famous tilt with reeds for which they
were so renowned, for it was still the custom of the knights of either
nation to mingle in these courteous and chivalrous contests during the
intervals of war. When they learnt, however, that he was come to demand
the tribute so abhorrent to the ears of the fiery monarch, they observed
that it well required a warrior of his apparent nerve to execute such an
embassy.

Muley Abul Hassan received the cavalier in state, seated on a
magnificent divan and surrounded by the officers of his court, in
the Hall of Ambassadors, one of the most sumptuous apartments of the
Alhambra. When De Vera had delivered his message, a haughty and bitter
smile curled the lip of the fierce monarch. “Tell your sovereigns,” said
he, “that the kings of Granada, who used to pay tribute in money to the
Castilian crown, are dead. Our mint at present coins nothing but blades
of scimetars and heads of lances.” *


     * Garibay, 1. 40, c. 29; Conde, Hist. Arab., p. 4, c. 34.


The defiance couched in this proud reply was heard with secret
satisfaction by Don Juan de Vera, for he was a bold soldier and a devout
hater of the infidels, and he saw iron war in the words of the Moorish
monarch. Being master, however, of all points of etiquette, he retained
an inflexible demeanor, and retired from the apartment with stately and
ceremonious gravity. His treatment was suited to his rank and dignity:
a magnificent apartment in the Alhambra was assigned to him, and before
his departure a scimetar was sent to him by the king, the blade of the
finest Damascus steel, the hilt of agate enriched with precious stones,
and the guard of gold. De Vera drew it, and smiled grimly as he noticed
the admirable temper of the blade. “His Majesty has given me a trenchant
weapon,” said he: “I trust a time will come when I may show him that
I know how to use his royal present.” The reply was considered a
compliment, of course: the bystanders little knew the bitter hostility
that lay couched beneath.

On his return to Cordova, Don Juan de Vera delivered the reply of the
Moor, but at the same time reported the state of his territories. These
had been strengthened and augmented during the weak reign of Henry
IV. and the recent troubles of Castile. Many cities and strong places
contiguous to Granada, but heretofore conquered by the Christians, had
renewed their allegiance to Muley Abul Hassan, so that his kingdom
now contained fourteen cities, ninety-seven fortified places, besides
numerous unwalled towns and villages defended by formidable castles,
while Granada towered in the centre as the citadel.

The wary Ferdinand, as he listened to the military report of Don Juan
de Vera, saw that the present was no time for hostilities with a warrior
kingdom so bristled over with means of defence. The internal discords
of Castile still continued, as did the war with Portugal: under these
circumstances he forbore to insist upon the payment of tribute, and
tacitly permitted the truce to continue; but the defiance contained
in the reply of Muley Abul Hassan remained rankling in his bosom as a
future ground of war; and De Vera’s description of Granada as the centre
of a system of strongholds and rock-built castles suggested to him his
plan of conquest--by taking town after town and fortress after fortress,
and gradually plucking away all the supports before he attempted the
capital. He expressed his resolution in a memorable pun or play upon
the name of Granada, which signifies a pomegranate. “I will pick out
the seeds of this pomegranate one by one,” said the cool and crafty
Ferdinand.

NOTE.--In the first edition of this work the author recounted a
characteristic adventure of the stout Juan de Vera as happening on
the occasion of this embassy; a further consultation of historical
authorities has induced him to transfer it to a second embassy of De
Vera’s, which the reader will find related in a subsequent chapter.



CHAPTER III.

DOMESTIC FEUDS IN THE ALHAMBRA--RIVAL SULTANAS--PREDICTIONS CONCERNING
BOABDIL, THE HEIR TO THE THRONE--HOW FERDINAND MEDITATES WAR AGAINST
GRANADA, AND HOW HE IS ANTICIPATED.


Though Muley Abul Hassan was at peace in his external relations, a civil
war raged in his harem, which it is proper to notice, as it had a fatal
effect upon the fortunes of the kingdom. Though cruel by nature, he was
uxorious and somewhat prone to be managed by his wives. Early in life
he had married his kinswoman, Ayxa (or Ayesha), daughter of his
great-uncle, the sultan Mohammed VII., surnamed El Hayzari, or the
Left-handed. She was a woman of almost masculine spirit and energy, and
of such immaculate and inaccessible virtue that she was generally called
La Horra, or the Chaste. By her he had a son, Abu Abdallah, or, as he is
commonly named by historians, Boabdil. The court astrologers, according
to custom, cast the horoscope of the infant, but were seized with
fear and trembling as they regarded it. “Allah Akbar! God is great!”
 exclaimed they; “he alone controls the fate of empires. It is written in
the book of fate that this child will one day sit upon the throne, but
that the downfall of the kingdom will be accomplished during his reign.”
 From that time the prince had been regarded with aversion by his father,
and the prediction which hung over him and the persecutions to which
he became subjected procured him the surname of El Zogoybi, or
the Unfortunate. He grew up, however, under the protection of his
valiant-hearted mother, who by the energy of her character long
maintained an undisputed sway in the harem, until, as her youth passed
away and her beauty declined, a formidable rival arose.

In one of the forays of the Moorish chivalry into the Christian
territories they had surprised a frontier fortress commanded by Sancho
Ximenes de Solis, a noble and valiant cavalier, who fell in bravely
defending it. Among the captives was his daughter Isabella, then almost
in her infancy, who was brought to Granada, delicately raised, and
educated in the Moslem faith.* Her Moorish captors gave her the name of
Fatima, but as she grew up her surpassing beauty gained her the surname
of Zoraya, or the Morning Star, by which she has become known in
history. Her charms at length attracted the notice of Muley Abul Hassan,
and she soon became a member of his harem. Some have spoken of her as
a Christian slave whom he had made his concubine; but others, with more
truth, represent her as one of his wives, and ultimately his favorite
sultana; and indeed it was often the case that female captives of rank
and beauty, when converted to the faith of Islam, became united to the
proudest and loftiest of their captors.


     * Cronica del Gran Cardinal, cap. 71.


Zoraya soon acquired complete ascendancy over the mind of Muley Abul
Hassan. She was as ambitious as she was beautiful, and, having become
the mother of two sons, looked forward to the possibility of one of them
sitting on the throne of Granada. These ambitious views were encouraged,
if not suggested, by a faction which gathered round her inspired by
kindred sympathies. The king’s vizier, Abul Cacim Vanegas, who had great
influence over him, was, like Zoraya, of Christian descent, being of
the noble house of Luque. His father, one of the Vanegas of Cordova, had
been captured in infancy and brought up as a Moslem.* From him sprang
the vizier, Abul Cacim Vanegas, and his brother, Reduan Vanegas,
likewise high in rank in the court of Muley Abul Hassan, and they had
about them numerous and powerful connections, all basking in court
favor. Though Moslems in faith, they were all drawn to Zoraya by the
tie of foreign and Christian descent, and sought to elevate her and her
children to the disparagement of Ayxa la Horra and her son Boabdil. The
latter, on the other hand, were supported by the noble and once-potent
family of the Abencerrages and by Aben Comixa, alcayde of the Alhambra;
and between these two factions, headed by rival sultanas, the harem
of Muley Abul Hassan became the scene of inveterate jealousies and
intrigues, which in time, as will be shown, led to popular commotions
and civil wars.**


     * Cura de los Palacios, Hist. de los Reyes Catol., cap. 56.


     * *It is to be noted that several historians have erroneously
represented Zoraya as the mother of Boabdil, instead of Ayxa la Horra,
and the Abencerrages as the opponents of Boabdil, instead of his
strenuous adherents. The statement in the text is according to the most
reliable authorities.


While these female feuds were threatening Muley Abul Hassan with trouble
and disaster at home, his evil genius prompted him to an enterprise
which involved him in tenfold danger from abroad. The reader has already
been apprised of a singular clause in the truce existing between the
Christians and the Moors, permitting hasty dashes into each other’s
territories and assaults of towns and fortresses, provided they were
carried on as mere forays and without the parade of regular warfare. A
long time had elapsed, however, without any incursion of the kind on
the part of the Moors, and the Christian towns on the frontiers had, in
consequence, fallen into a state of the most negligent security. In an
unlucky moment Muley Abul Hassan was tempted to one of these forays by
learning that the fortress of Zahara, on the frontier between Ronda and
Medina Sidonia, was but feebly garrisoned and scantily supplied, and
that its alcayde was careless of his charge. This important post was
built on the crest of a rocky mountain, with a strong castle perched
above it upon a cliff, so high that it was said to be above the flight
of birds or drift of clouds. The streets and many of the houses were
mere excavations wrought out of the living rock. The town had but one
gate, opening to the west and defended by towers and bulwarks. The only
ascent to this cragged fortress was by roads cut in the rock, so rugged
in many places as to resemble broken stairs. In a word, the impregnable
security of Zahara had become so proverbial throughout Spain that a
woman of forbidding and inaccessible virtue was called a Zaharena. But
the strongest fortress and sternest virtue have weak points, and require
unremitting vigilance to guard them: let warrior and dame take warning
from the fate of Zahara.



CHAPTER IV.

EXPEDITION OF MULEY ABUL HASSAN AGAINST THE FORTRESS OF ZAHARA.


In the year of our Lord one thousand four hundred and eighty-one, and
but a night or two after the festival of the most blessed Nativity, the
inhabitants of Zahara were sunk in profound sleep the very sentinel had
deserted his post, and sought shelter from a tempest which had raged for
three nights in succession, for it appeared but little probable that an
enemy would be abroad during such an uproar of the elements. But evil
spirits work best during a storm. In the midst of the night an uproar
rose within the walls of Zahara more awful than the raging of the
storm. A fearful alarm-cry, “The Moor! the Moor!” resounded through the
streets, mingled with the clash of arms, the shriek of anguish, and the
shout of victory. Muley Abul Hassan, at the head of a powerful force,
had hurried from Granada, and passed unobserved through the mountains in
the obscurity of the tempest. While the storm pelted the sentinel from
his post and bowled round tower and battlement, the Moors had planted
their scaling-ladders and mounted securely into both town and castle.
The garrison was unsuspicious of danger until battle and massacre burst
forth within its very walls. It seemed to the affrighted inhabitants
as if the fiends of the air had come upon the wings of the wind and
possessed themselves of tower and turret. The war-cry resounded on every
side, shout answering shout, above, below, on the battlements of the
castle, in the streets of the town; the foe was in all parts, wrapped
in obscurity, but acting in concert by the aid of preconcerted signals.
Starting from sleep, the soldiers were intercepted and cut down as they
rushed from their quarters, or if they escaped they knew not where
to assemble or where to strike. Wherever lights appeared the flashing
scimetar was at its deadly work, and all who attempted resistance fell
beneath its edge.

In a little while the struggle was at an end. Those who were not slain
took refuge in the secret places of their houses or gave themselves
up as captives. The clash of arms ceased, and the storm continued its
howling, mingled with the occasional shout of the Moorish soldiery
roaming in search of plunder. While the inhabitants were trembling for
their fate, a trumpet resounded through the streets summoning them all
to assemble, unarmed, in the public square. Here they were surrounded by
soldiery and strictly guarded until daybreak. When the day dawned it was
piteous to behold this once-prosperous community, who had laid down to
rest in peaceful security, now crowded together without distinction of
age or rank or sex, and almost without raiment, during the severity of
a wintry storm. The fierce Muley Abul Hassan turned a deaf ear to
all their prayers and remonstrances, and ordered them to be conducted
captives to Granada. Leaving a strong garrison in both town and castle,
with orders to put them in a complete state of defence, he returned,
flushed with victory, to his capital, entering it at the head of his
troops, laden with spoil and bearing in triumph the banners and pennons
taken at Zahara.

While preparations were making for jousts and other festivities in honor
of this victory over the Christians, the captives of Zahara arrived--a
wretched train of men, women, and children, worn out with fatigue and
haggard with despair, and driven like cattle into the city gates by a
detachment of Moorish soldiery.

Deep was the grief and indignation of the people of Granada at this
cruel scene. Old men, who had experienced the calamities of warfare,
anticipated coming troubles. Mothers clasped their infants to their
breasts as they beheld the hapless females of Zahara with their children
expiring in their arms. On every side the accents of pity for the
sufferers were mingled with execrations of the barbarity of the king.
The preparations for festivity were neglected, and the viands which were
to have feasted the conquerors were distributed among the captives.

The nobles and alfaquis, however, repaired to the Alhambra to
congratulate the king; for, whatever storms may rage in the lower
regions of society, rarely do any clouds but clouds of incense rise to
the awful eminence of the throne. In this instance, however, a voice
rose from the midst of the obsequious crowd, and burst like thunder
upon the ears of Abul Hassan. “Woe! woe! woe! to Granada!” exclaimed the
voice; “its hour of desolation approaches. The ruins of Zahara will
fall upon our heads; my spirit tells me that the end of our empire is
at hand.” All shrank back aghast, and left the denouncer of woe standing
alone in the centre of the hall. He was an ancient and hoary man in the
rude attire of a dervise. Age had withered his form without quenching
the fire of his spirit, which glared in baleful lustre from his eyes.
He was (say the Arabian historians) one of those holy men termed santons
who pass their lives in hermitages in fasting, meditation, and prayer
until they attain to the purity of saints and the foresight of prophets.
“He was,” says the indignant Fray Antonio Agapida, “a son of Belial,
one of those fanatic infidels possessed by the devil who are sometimes
permitted to predict the truth to their followers, but with the proviso
that their predictions shall be of no avail.”

The voice of the santon resounded through the lofty hall of the
Alhambra, and struck silence and awe into the crowd of courtly
sycophants. Muley Abul Hassan alone was unmoved: he eyed the hoary
anchorite with scorn as he stood dauntless before him, and treated his
predictions as the ravings of a maniac. The santon rushed from the royal
presence, and, descending into the city, hurried through its streets and
squares with frantic gesticulations. His voice was heard in every
part in awful denunciation: “The peace is broken! exterminating war is
commenced. Woe! woe! woe to Granada! its fall is at hand! desolation
will dwell in its palaces; its strong men will fall beneath the sword,
its children and maidens be led into captivity. Zahara is but a type of
Granada!”

Terror seized upon the populace, for they considered these ravings as
the inspirations of prophecy. Some hid themselves in their dwellings as
in a time of general mourning, while some gathered together in knots in
the streets and squares, alarming each other with dismal forebodings and
cursing the rashness and cruelty of the king.

The Moorish monarch heeded not their murmurs. Knowing that his exploit
must draw upon him the vengeance of the Christians, he now threw off
all reserve, and made attempts to surprise Castellan and Elvira, though
without success. He sent alfaquis also to the Barbary powers, informing
them that the sword was drawn, and inviting the African princes to aid
him with men and supplies in maintaining the kingdom of Granada and the
religion of Mahomet against the violence of unbelievers.

While discontent exhaled itself in murmurs among the common people,
however, it fomented in dangerous conspiracies among the nobles, and
Muley Abul Hassan was startled by information of a design to depose
him and place his son Boabdil upon the throne. His first measure was to
confine the prince and his mother in the Tower of Comares; then, calling
to mind the prediction of the astrologers, that the youth would one day
sit on the throne of Granada, he impiously set the stars at defiance.
“The sword of the executioner,” said he, “shall prove the fallacy of
those lying horoscopes, and shall silence the ambition of Boabdil.”

The sultana Ayxa, apprised of the imminent danger of her son, concerted
a plan for his escape. At the dead of the night she gained access to
his prison, and, tying together the shawls and scarfs of herself and her
female attendants, lowered him down from a balcony of the Alhambra to
the steep rocky hillside which sweeps down to the Darro. Here some of
her devoted adherents were waiting to receive him, who, mounting him
on a swift horse, spirited him away to the city of Guadix, in the
Alpuxarras.



CHAPTER V.

EXPEDITION OF THE MARQUES OF CADIZ AGAINST ALHAMA.


Great was the indignation of King Ferdinand when he heard of the
storming of Zahara, though the outrage of the Moor happened most
opportunely. The war between Castile and Portugal had come to a close;
the factions of Spanish nobles were for the most part quelled. The
Castilian monarchs had now, therefore, turned their thoughts to the
cherished object of their ambition, the conquest of Granada. The pious
heart of Isabella yearned to behold the entire Peninsula redeemed from
the domination of the infidel, while Ferdinand, in whom religious zeal
was mingled with temporal policy, looked with a craving eye to the rich
territory of the Moor, studded with wealthy towns and cities. Muley Abul
Hassan had rashly or unwarily thrown the brand that was to produce the
wide conflagration. Ferdinand was not the one to quench the flames. He
immediately issued orders to all the adelantados and alcaydes of the
frontiers to maintain the utmost vigilance at their several posts, and
to prepare to carry fire and sword into the territories of the Moors.

Among the many valiant cavaliers who rallied round the throne of
Ferdinand and Isabella, one of the most eminent in rank and renowned
in arms was Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon, marques of Cadiz. As he was the
distinguished champion of this holy war, and commanded in most of its
enterprises and battles, it is meet that some particular account should
be given of him. He was born in 1443 of the valiant lineage of the
Ponces, and from his earliest youth had rendered himself illustrious in
the field. He was of the middle stature, with a muscular and powerful
frame, capable of great exertion and fatigue. His hair and beard were
red and curled, his countenance was open and magnanimous, of a ruddy
complexion and slightly marked with the small-pox. He was temperate,
chaste, valiant, vigilant; a just and generous master to his vassals;
frank and noble in his deportment toward his equals; loving and faithful
to his friends; fierce and terrible, yet magnanimous, to his enemies.
He was considered the mirror of chivalry of his times, and compared by
contemporary historians to the immortal Cid.

The marques of Cadiz had vast possessions in the most fertile parts of
Andalusia, including many towns and castles, and could lead forth an
army into the field from his own vassals and dependants. On receiving
the orders of the king he burned to signalize himself by some sudden
incursion into the kingdom of Granada that should give a brilliant
commencement to the war, and should console the sovereigns for the
insult they had received in the capture of Zahara. As his estates lay
near to the Moorish frontiers and were subject to sudden inroads, he
had always in his pay numbers of adalides, or scouts and guides, many of
them converted Moors. These he sent out in all directions to watch the
movements of the enemy and to procure all kinds of information important
to the security of the frontier. One of these spies came to him one
day in his town of Marchena, and informed him that the Moorish town of
Alhama was slightly garrisoned and negligently guarded, and might be
taken by surprise. This was a large, wealthy, and populous place within
a few leagues of Granada. It was situated on a rocky height, nearly
surrounded by a river, and defended by a fortress to which there was no
access but by a steep and cragged ascent. The strength of its situation
and its being embosomed in the centre of the kingdom had produced the
careless security which now invited attack.

To ascertain fully the state of the fortress the marques despatched
secretly a veteran soldier who was highly in his confidence. His name
was Ortega de Prado, a man of great activity, shrewdness, and valor,
and captain of escaladors (soldiers employed to scale the walls of
fortresses in time of attack). Ortega approached Alhama one moonless
night, and paced along its walls with noiseless step, laying his ear
occasionally to the ground or to the wall. Every time he distinguished
the measured tread of a sentinel, and now and then the challenge of
the night-watch going its rounds. Finding the town thus guarded, he
clambered to the castle: there all was silent. As he ranged its lofty
battlements between him and the sky he saw no sentinel on duty.
He noticed certain places where the wall might be ascended by
scaling-ladders, and, having marked the hour of relieving guard and made
all necessary observations, he retired without being discovered.

Ortega returned to Marchena, and assured the marques of Cadiz of
the practicability of scaling the castle of Alhama and taking it by
surprise. The marques had a secret conference with Don Pedro Enriques,
adelantado of Andalusia, Don Diego de Merlo, commander of Seville,
Sancho de Avila, alcayde of Carmona, and others, who all agreed to
aid him with their forces. On an appointed day the several commanders
assembled at Marchena with their troops and retainers. None but the
leaders knew the object or destination of the enterprise, but it was
enough to rouse the Andalusian spirit to know that a foray was intended
into the country of their old enemies, the Moors. Secrecy and celerity
were necessary for success. They set out promptly with three thousand
genetes or light cavalry and four thousand infantry. They chose a route
but little travelled, by the way of Antiquera, passing with great labor
through rugged and solitary defiles of the sierra or chain of mountains
of Arrecife, and left all their baggage on the banks of the river
Yeguas, to be brought after them. This march was principally in the
night; all day they remained quiet; no noise was suffered in their camp,
and no fires were made, lest the smoke should betray them. On the third
day they resumed their march as the evening darkened, and, forcing
themselves forward at as quick a pace as the rugged and dangerous
mountain-roads would permit, they descended toward midnight into a
small deep valley only half a league from Alhama. Here they made a halt,
fatigued by this forced march, during a long dark evening toward the end
of February.

The marques of Cadiz now explained to the troops the object of the
expedition. He told them it was for the glory of the most holy faith and
to avenge the wrongs of their countrymen at Zahara, and that the town of
Alhama, full of wealthy spoil, was the place to be attacked. The troops
were roused to new ardor by these words, and desired to be led forthwith
to the assault. They arrived close to Alhama about two hours before
daybreak. Here the army remained in ambush, while three hundred men were
despatched to scale the walls and get possession of the castle. They
were picked men, many of them alcaydes and officers, men who preferred
death to dishonor. This gallant band was guided by the escalador Ortega
de Prado at the head of thirty men with scaling-ladders. They clambered
the ascent to the castle in silence, and arrived under the dark shadow
of its towers without being discovered. Not a light was to be seen, not
a sound to be heard; the whole place was wrapped in profound repose.

Fixing their ladders, they ascended cautiously and with noiseless steps.
Ortega was the first that mounted upon the battlements, followed by
one Martin Galindo, a youthful esquire full of spirit and eager for
distinction. Moving stealthily along the parapet to the portal of the
citadel, they came upon the sentinel by surprise. Ortega seized him
by the throat, brandished a dagger before his eyes, and ordered him to
point the way to the guard-room. The infidel obeyed, and was instantly
despatched, to prevent his giving an alarm. The guard-room was a scene
rather of massacre than combat. Some of the soldiery were killed while
sleeping, others were cut down almost without resistance, bewildered by
so unexpected an assault: all were despatched, for the scaling party was
too small to make prisoners or to spare. The alarm spread throughout the
castle, but by this time the three hundred picked men had mounted the
battlements. The garrison, startled from sleep, found the enemy already
masters of the towers. Some of the Moors were cut down at once, others
fought desperately from room to room, and the whole castle resounded
with the clash of arms, the cries of the combatants, and the groans of
the wounded. The army in ambush, finding by the uproar that the castle
was surprised, now rushed from their concealment, and approached
the walls with loud shouts and sound of kettle-drums and trumpets to
increase the confusion and dismay of the garrison. A violent conflict
took place in the court of the castle, where several of the scaling
party sought to throw open the gates to admit their countrymen. Here
fell two valiant alcaydes, Nicholas de Roja and Sancho de Avila, but
they fell honorably, upon a heap of slain. At length Ortega de Prado
succeeded in throwing open a postern through which the marques of Cadiz,
the adelantado of Andalusia, and Don Diego de Merlo entered with a
host of followers, and the citadel remained in full possession of the
Christians.

As the Spanish cavaliers were ranging from room to room, the marques of
Cadiz, entering an apartment of superior richness to the rest, beheld,
by the light of a silver lamp, a beautiful Moorish female, the wife
of the alcayde of the castle, whose husband was absent attending a
wedding-feast at Velez Malaga. She would have fled at the sight of a
Christian warrior in her apartment, but, entangled in the covering of
the bed, she fell at the feet of the marques, imploring mercy. That
Christian cavalier, who had a soul full of honor and courtesy toward the
sex, raised her from the floor and endeavored to allay her fears; but
they were increased at the sight of her female attendants pursued into
the room by the Spanish soldiery. The marques reproached his soldiers
with unmanly conduct, and reminded them that they made war upon men, not
on defenceless women. Having soothed the terrors of the females by the
promise of honorable protection, he appointed a trusty guard to watch
over the security of their apartment.

The castle was now taken, but the town below it was in arms. It was
broad day, and the people, recovered from their panic, were enabled to
see and estimate the force of the enemy. The inhabitants were chiefly
merchants and tradespeople, but the Moors all possessed a knowledge of
the use of weapons and were of brave and warlike spirit. They confided
in the strength of their walls and the certainty of speedy relief
from Granada, which was but about eight leagues distant. Manning the
battlements and towers, they discharged showers of stones and arrows
whenever the part of the Christian army without the walls attempted to
approach. They barricadoed the entrances of their streets also which
opened toward the castle, stationing men expert at the crossbow and
arquebuse. These kept up a constant fire upon the gate of the castle,
so that no one could sally forth without being instantly shot down. Two
valiant cavaliers who attempted to lead forth a party in defiance of
this fatal tempest were shot dead at the very portal.

The Christians now found themselves in a situation of great peril.
Reinforcements must soon arrive to the enemy from Granada: unless,
therefore, they gained possession of the town in the course of the day,
they were likely to be surrounded and beleaguered, without provisions,
in the castle. Some observed that even if they took the town they should
not be able to maintain possession of it. They proposed, therefore, to
make booty of everything valuable, to sack the castle, set it on fire,
and make good their retreat to Seville.

The marques of Cadiz was of different counsel. “God has given the
citadel into Christian hands,” said he; “he will no doubt strengthen
them to maintain it. We have gained the place with difficulty and
bloodshed; it would be a stain upon our honor to abandon it through fear
of imaginary dangers.” The adelantado and Don Diego de Merlo joined
in his opinion, but without their earnest and united remonstrances the
place would have been abandoned, so exhausted were the troops by forced
marches and hard fighting, and so apprehensive of the approach of the
Moors of Granada.

The strength and spirits of the party within the castle were in some
degree restored by the provisions which they found. The Christian army
beneath the town, being also refreshed by a morning’s repast,
advanced vigorously to the attack of the walls. They planted their
scaling-ladders, and, swarming up, sword in hand, fought fiercely with
the Moorish soldiery upon the ramparts.

In the mean time, the marques of Cadiz, seeing that the gate of the
castle, which opened toward the city, was completely commanded by the
artillery of the enemy, ordered a large breach to be made in the wall,
through which he might lead his troops to the attack, animating them in
this perilous moment by assuring them that the place should be given up
to plunder and its inhabitants made captives.

The breach being made, the marques put himself at the head of his
troops, and entered sword in hand. A simultaneous attack was make by the
Christians in every part--by the ramparts, by the gate, by the roofs
and walls which connected the castle with the town. The Moors fought
valiantly in their streets, from their windows, and from the tops of
their houses. They were not equal to the Christians in bodily strength,
for they were for the most part peaceful men, of industrious callings,
and enervated by the frequent use of the warm bath; but they were
superior in number and unconquerable in spirit; old and young, strong
and weak, fought with the same desperation. The Moors fought for
property, for liberty, for life. They fought at their thresholds and
their hearths, with the shrieks of their wives and children ringing in
their ears, and they fought in the hope that each moment would bring aid
from Granada. They regarded neither their own wounds nor the death of
their companions, but continued fighting until they fell, and seemed
as if, when they could no longer contend, they would block up the
thresholds of their beloved homes with their mangled bodies. The
Christians fought for glory, for revenge, for the holy faith, and for
the spoil of these wealthy infidels. Success would place a rich town at
their mercy; failure would deliver them into the hands of the tyrant of
Granada.

The contest raged from morning until night, when the Moors began to
yield. Retreating to a large mosque near the walls, they kept up so
galling a fire from it with lances, crossbows, and arquebuses that for
some time the Christians dared not approach. Covering themselves, at
length, with bucklers and mantelets* to protect them from the deadly
shower, the latter made their way to the mosque and set fire to the
doors. When the smoke and flames rolled in upon them the Moors gave
up all as lost. Many rushed forth desperately upon the enemy, but were
immediately slain; the rest surrendered themselves captives.


     * Mantelet--a movable parapet, made of thick planks, to protect
troops when advancing to sap or assault a walled place.


The struggle was now at an end: the town remained at the mercy of the
Christians; and the inhabitants, both male and female, became the
slaves of those who made them prisoners. Some few escaped by a mine or
subterranean way which led to the river, and concealed themselves, their
wives and children, in caves and secret places, but in three or four
days were compelled to surrender themselves through hunger.

The town was given up to plunder, and the booty was immense. There were
found prodigious quantities of gold and silver, and jewels and rich
silks and costly stuffs of all kinds, together with horses and beeves,
and abundance of grain and oil and honey, and all other productions of
this fruitful kingdom; for in Alhama were collected the royal rents
and tributes of the surrounding country: it was the richest town in
the Moorish territory, and from its great strength and its peculiar
situation was called the key to Granada.

Great waste and devastation were committed by the Spanish soldiery; for,
thinking it would be impossible to keep possession of the place, they
began to destroy whatever they could not take away. Immense jars of
oil were broken, costly furniture shattered to pieces, and magazines
of grain broken open and their contents scattered to the winds. Many
Christian captives who had been taken at Zahara were found buried in a
Moorish dungeon, and were triumphantly restored to light and liberty;
and a renegado Spaniard, who had often served as guide to the Moors
in their incursions into the Christian territories, was hanged on the
highest part of the battlements for the edification of the army.



CHAPTER VI.

HOW THE PEOPLE OF GRANADA WERE AFFECTED ON HEARING OF THE CAPTURE OF
ALHAMA, AND HOW THE MOORISH KING SALLIED FORTH TO REGAIN IT.


A moorish horseman had spurred across the Vega, nor reined his panting
steed until he alighted at the gate of the Alhambra. He brought tidings
to Muley Abul Hassan of the attack upon Alhama. “The Christians,” said
he, “are in the land. They came upon us, we know not whence or how, and
scaled the walls of the castle in the night. There have been dreadful
fighting and carnage in its towers and courts; and when I spurred
my steed from the gate of Alhama the castle was in possession of the
unbelievers.”

Muley Abul Hassan felt for a moment as if swift retribution had come
upon him for the woes he had inflicted upon Zahara. Still, he flattered
himself that this had only been some transient inroad of a party of
marauders intent upon plunder, and that a little succor thrown into the
town would be sufficient to expel them from the castle and drive them
from the land. He ordered out, therefore, a thousand of his chosen
cavalry, and sent them in all speed to the assistance of Alhama. They
arrived before its walls the morning after its capture: the Christian
standards floated upon its towers, and a body of cavalry poured forth
from its gates and came wheeling down into the plain to receive them.

The Moorish horsemen turned the reins of their steeds and galloped back
for Granada. They entered its gates in tumultuous confusion, spreading
terror and lamentation by their tidings. “Alhama is fallen! Alhama is
fallen!” exclaimed they; “the Christians garrison its walls; the key of
Granada is in the hands of the enemy!”

When the people heard these words they remembered the denunciation of
the santon. His prediction seemed still to resound in every ear, and
its fulfilment to be at hand. Nothing was heard throughout the city but
sighs and wailings. “Woe is me, Alhama!” was in every mouth; and this
ejaculation of deep sorrow and doleful foreboding came to be the burden
of a plaintive ballad which remains until the present day.*


     * The mournful little Spanish romance of “Ay de mi Alhama!” is
supposed to be of Moorish origin, and to embody the grief of the people
of Granada on this occasion.


Many aged men, who had taken refuge in Granada from other Moorish
dominions which had fallen into the power of the Christians, now groaned
in despair at the thoughts that war was to follow them into this last
retreat, to lay waste this pleasant land, and to bring trouble and
sorrow upon their declining years. The women were more loud and vehement
in their grief, for they beheld the evils impending over their children,
and what can restrain the agony of a mother’s heart? Many of them made
their way through the halls of the Alhambra into the presence of the
king, weeping, and wailing, and tearing their hair. “Accursed be the
day,” cried they, “that thou hast lit the flame of war in our land! May
the holy Prophet bear witness before Allah that we and our children
are innocent of this act! Upon thy head, and upon the heads of thy
posterity, until the end of the world, rest the sin of the desolation of
Zahara!”*


     * Garibay, lib. 40, c. 29.


Muley Abul Hassan remained unmoved amidst all this storm; his heart was
hardened (observes Fray Antonio Agapida) like that of Pharaoh, to
the end that through his blind violence and rage he might produce the
deliverance of the land from its heathen bondage. In fact, he was a bold
and fearless warrior, and trusted soon to make this blow recoil upon the
head of the enemy. He had ascertained that the captors of Alhama were
but a handful: they were in the centre of his dominions, within a short
distance of his capital. They were deficient in munitions of war and
provisions for sustaining a siege. By a rapid movement he might surround
them with a powerful army, cut off all aid from their countrymen, and
entrap them in the fortress they had taken.

To think was to act with Muley Abul Hassan, but he was prone to act with
too much precipitation. He immediately set forth in person with three
thousand horse and fifty thousand foot, and in his eagerness to arrive
at the scene of action would not wait to provide artillery and the
various engines required in a siege. “The multitude of my forces,” said
he, confidently, “will be sufficient to overwhelm the enemy.”

The marques of Cadiz, who thus held possession of Alhama, had a chosen
friend and faithful companion-in-arms, among the most distinguished of
the Christian chivalry. This was Don Alonso de Cordova, senior and lord
of the house of Aguilar, and brother of Gonsalvo of Cordova, afterward
renowned as grand captain of Spain. As yet, Alonso de Aguilar was the
glory of his name and race, for his brother was but young in arms. He
was one of the most hardy, valiant, and enterprising of the Spanish
knights, and foremost in all service of a perilous and adventurous
nature. He had not been at hand to accompany his friend Ponce de Leon,
marques of Cadiz, in his inroad into the Moorish territory, but he
hastily assembled a number of retainers, horse and foot, and pressed
forward to join the enterprise. Arriving at the river Yeguas, he found
the baggage of the army still upon its banks, and took charge of it to
carry it to Alhama. The marques of Cadiz heard of the approach of his
friend, whose march was slow in consequence of being encumbered by the
baggage. He was within but a few leagues of Alhama when scouts came
hurrying into the place with intelligence that the Moorish king was at
hand with a powerful army. The marques of Cadiz was filled with alarm
lest De Aguilar should fall into the hands of the enemy. Forgetting
his own danger and thinking only of that of his friend, he despatched a
well-mounted messenger to ride full speed and warn him not to approach.

The first determination of Alonso de Aguilar when he heard that the
Moorish king was at hand was to take a strong position in the mountains
and await his coming. The madness of an attempt with his handful of men
to oppose an immense army was represented to him with such force as to
induce him to abandon the idea; he then thought of throwing himself into
Alhama to share the fortunes of his friend; but it was now too late. The
Moor would infallibly intercept him, and he should only give the marques
the additional distress of beholding him captured beneath his walls.
It was even urged upon him that he had no time for delay if he would
consult his own safety, which could only be ensured by an immediate
retreat into the Christian territory. This last opinion was confirmed by
the return of scouts, who brought information that Muley Abul Hassan had
received notice of his movements, and was rapidly advancing in quest of
him. It was with infinite reluctance that Don Alonso de Aguilar yielded
to these united and powerful reasons. Proudly and sullenly he drew off
his forces, laden with the baggage of the army, and made an unwilling
retreat toward Antiquera. Muley Abul Hassan pursued him for some
distance through the mountains, but soon gave up the chase and turned
with his forces upon Alhama.

As the army approached the town they beheld the fields strewn with the
dead bodies of their countrymen, who had fallen in defence of the place,
and had been cast forth and left unburied by the Christians. There
they lay, mangled and exposed to every indignity, while droves of
half-famished dogs were preying upon them and fighting and howling over
their hideous repast.* Furious at the sight, the Moors, in the first
transports of their rage, attacked those ravenous animals: their next
measure was to vent their fury upon the Christians. They rushed like
madmen to the walls, applied scaling-ladders in all parts without
waiting for the necessary mantelets and other protections--thinking
by attacking suddenly and at various points to distract the enemy and
overcome them by the force of numbers.


     * Pulgar, Cronica.


The marques of Cadiz, with his confederate commanders, distributed
themselves along the walls to direct and animate their men in the
defence. The Moors in their blind fury often assailed the most difficult
and dangerous places. Darts, stones, and all kinds of missiles were
hurled down upon their defenceless heads. As fast as they mounted they
were cut down or dashed from the battlements, their ladders overturned,
and all who were on them precipitated headlong below.

Muley Abul Hassan stormed with passion at the sight: he sent detachment
after detachment to scale the walls, but in vain; they were like waves
rushing upon a rock, only to dash themselves to pieces. The Moors lay in
heaps beneath the wall, and among them many of the bravest cavaliers of
Granada. The Christians also sallied frequently from the gates, and made
great havoc in the irregular multitude of assailants.

Muley Abul Hassan now became sensible of his error in hurrying from
Granada without the proper engines for a siege. Destitute of all means
to batter the fortifications, the town remained uninjured, defying the
mighty army which raged and roamed before it. Incensed at being thus
foiled, Muley Abul Hassan gave orders to undermine the walls. The Moors
advanced with shouts to the attempt. They were received with a deadly
fire from the ramparts, which drove them from their works. Repeatedly
were they repulsed, and repeatedly did they return to the charge. The
Christians not merely galled them from the battlements, but issued forth
and cut them down in the excavations they were attempting to form. The
contest lasted throughout a whole day, and by evening two thousand Moors
were either killed or wounded.

Muley Abul Hassan now abandoned all hope of carrying the place by
assault, and attempted to distress it into terms by turning the channel
of the river which runs by its walls. On this stream the inhabitants
depended for their supply of water, the place being destitute of
fountains and cisterns, from which circumstance it is called Alhama “la
seca,” or “the dry.”

A desperate conflict ensued on the banks of the river, the Moors
endeavoring to plant palisades in its bed to divert the stream, and
the Christians striving to prevent them. The Spanish commanders
exposed themselves to the utmost danger to animate their men, who were
repeatedly driven back into the town. The marques of Cadiz was often
up to his knees in the stream fighting hand to hand with the Moors. The
water ran red with blood, and was encumbered with dead bodies. At length
the overwhelming numbers of the Moors gave them the advantage, and they
succeeded in diverting the greater part of the water. The Christians
had to struggle severely to supply themselves from the feeble rill which
remained. They sallied to the river by a subterraneous passage, but the
Moorish crossbowmen stationed themselves on the opposite bank, keeping
up a heavy fire upon the Christians whenever they attempted to fill
their vessels from the scanty and turbid stream. One party of the
Christians had, therefore, to fight while another drew water. At all
hours of the day and night this deadly strife was maintained, until it
seemed as if every drop of water were purchased with a drop of blood.

In the mean time the sufferings of the town became intense. None but the
soldiery and their horses were allowed the precious beverage so dearly
earned, and even that in quantities that only tantalized their wants.
The wounded, who could not sally to procure it, were almost destitute,
while the unhappy prisoners shut up in the mosques were reduced to
frightful extremities. Many perished raving mad, fancying themselves
swimming in boundless seas, yet unable to assuage their thirst. Many of
the soldiers lay parched and panting along the battlements, no longer
able to draw a bowstring or hurl a stone; while above five thousand
Moors, stationed upon a rocky height which overlooked part of the town,
kept up a galling fire into it with slings and crossbows, so that the
marques of Cadiz was obliged to heighten the battlements by using the
doors from the private dwellings.

The Christian cavaliers, exposed to this extreme peril and in imminent
danger of falling into the hands of the enemy, despatched fleet
messengers to Seville and Cordova, entreating the chivalry of Andalusia
to hasten to their aid. They sent likewise, imploring assistance from
the king and queen, who at that time held their court in Medina del
Campo. In the midst of their distress a tank or cistern of water was
fortunately discovered in the city, which gave temporary relief to their
sufferings.


CHAPTER VII.

HOW THE DUKE OF MEDINA SIDONIA AND THE CHIVALRY OF ANDALUSIA HASTENED TO
THE RELIEF OF ALHAMA.


The perilous situation of the Christian cavaliers, pent up and
beleaguered within the walls of the Alhama, spread terror among their
friends and anxiety throughout all Andalusia. Nothing, however, could
equal the anguish of the marchioness of Cadiz, the wife of the gallant
Roderigo Ponce de Leon. In her deep distress she looked round for
some powerful noble who had the means of rousing the country to the
assistance of her husband. No one appeared more competent for the
purpose than Don Juan de Guzman, the duke of Medina Sidonia. He was
one of the most wealthy and puissant grandees of Spain; his possessions
extended over some of the most fertile parts of Andalusia, embracing
towns and seaports and numerous villages. Here he reigned in feudal
state like a petty sovereign, and could at any time bring into the field
an immense force of vassals and retainers.

The duke of Medina Sidonia and the marques of Cadiz, however, were at
this time deadly foes. An hereditary feud existed between them, which
had often risen to bloodshed and open war; for as yet the fierce
contests between the proud and puissant Spanish nobles had not been
completely quelled by the power of the Crown, and in this respect they
exerted a right of sovereignty in leading their vassals against each
other in open field.

The duke of Medina Sidonia would have appeared, to many, the very
last person to whom to apply for aid of the marques of Cadiz; but the
marchioness judged of him by the standard of her own high and generous
mind. She knew him to be a gallant and courteous knight, and had already
experienced the magnanimity of his spirit, having been relieved by him
when besieged by the Moors in her husband’s fortress of Arcos. To
the duke, therefore, she applied in this moment of sudden calamity,
imploring him to furnish succor to her husband. The event showed how
well noble spirits understand each other. No sooner did the duke receive
this appeal from the wife of his enemy than he generously forgot all
feeling of animosity and determined to go in person to his succor. He
immediately despatched a courteous letter to the marchioness, assuring
her that in consideration of the request of so honorable and estimable
a lady, and to rescue from peril so valiant a cavalier as her husband,
whose loss would be great, not only to Spain, but to all Christendom, he
would forego the recollection of all past grievances, and hasten to his
relief with all the forces he could raise.

The duke wrote at the same time to the alcaydes of his towns and
fortresses, ordering them to join him forthwith at Seville with all
the forces they could spare from their garrisons. He called on all the
chivalry of Andalusia to make a common cause in the rescue of those
Christian cavaliers, and he offered large pay to all volunteers who
would resort to him with horses, armor, and provisions. Thus all who
could be incited by honor, religion, patriotism, or thirst of gain were
induced to hasten to his standard, and he took the field with an army
of five thousand horse and fifty thousand foot.* Many cavaliers of
distinguished name accompanied him in this generous enterprise. Among
these was the redoubtable Alonso de Aguilar, the chosen friend of the
marques of Cadiz, and with him his younger brother, Gonsalvo Fernandez
de Cordova, afterward renowned as the grand captain; Don Roderigo Giron
also, master of the order of Calatrava, together with Martin Alonso de
Montemayor and the marques de Villena, esteemed the best lance in Spain.
It was a gallant and splendid army, comprising the flower of Spanish
chivalry, and poured forth in brilliant array from the gates of Seville
bearing the great standard of that ancient and renowned city.


     * Cronica de los Duques de Medina Sidonia, por Pedro de Medina, MS.


Ferdinand and Isabella were at Medina del Campo when tidings came of the
capture of Alhama. The king was at mass when he received the news, and
ordered “Te Deum” to be chanted for this signal triumph of the holy
faith. When the first flush of triumph had subsided, and the king learnt
the imminent peril of the valorous Ponce de Leon and his companions, and
the great danger that this stronghold might again be wrested from
their grasp, he resolved to hurry in person to the scene of action. So
pressing appeared to him the emergency that he barely gave himself time
to take a hasty repast while horses were providing, and then departed at
furious speed for Andalusia, leaving a request for the queen to follow
him.* He was attended by Don Beltram de la Cueva, duke of Albuquerque,
Don Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, count of Tendilla, and Don Pedro Mauriques,
count of Trevino, with a few more cavaliers of prowess and distinction.
He travelled by forced journeys, frequently changing his jaded horses,
being eager to arrive in time to take command of the Andalusian
chivalry. When he arrived within five leagues of Cordova the duke of
Albuquerque remonstrated with him upon entering with such incautious
haste into the enemies’ country. He represented to him that there were
troops enough assembled to succor Alhama, and that it was not for him
to venture his royal person in doing what could be done by his subjects,
especially as he had such valiant and experienced captains to act for
him. “Besides, sire,” added the duke, “Your Majesty should bethink
you that the troops about to take the field are mere men of Andalusia,
whereas your illustrious predecessors never made an inroad into the
territory of the Moors without being accompanied by a powerful force of
the stanch and iron warriors of Old Castile.”


     * Illescas, Hist. Pontifical.


“Duke,” replied the king, “your counsel might have been good had I not
departed from Medina with the avowed determination of succoring these
cavaliers in person. I am now near the end of my journey, and it would
be beneath my dignity to change my intention before even I had met
with an impediment. I shall take the troops of this country who are
assembled, without waiting for those of Castile, and with the aid of God
shall prosecute my journey.” *


     * Pulgar, Cronica, p. 3, cap. 3.


As King Ferdinand approached Cordova the principal inhabitants came
forth to receive him. Learning, however, that the duke of Medina Sidonia
was already on the march and pressing forward into the territory of the
Moors, the king was all on fire to overtake him and to lead in person
the succor to Alhama. Without entering Cordova, therefore, he exchanged
his weary horses for those of the inhabitants who had come forth to meet
him, and pressed forward for the army. He despatched fleet couriers in
advance, requesting the duke of Medina Sidonia to await his coming, that
he might take command of the forces.

Neither the duke nor his companions-in-arms, however, felt inclined to
pause in their generous expedition and gratify the inclinations of the
king. They sent back missives representing that they were far within the
enemies’ frontier, and it was dangerous either to pause or turn back.
They had likewise received pressing entreaties from the besieged to
hasten their speed, setting forth their great sufferings and their
hourly peril of being overwhelmed by the enemy.


The king was at Ponton del Maestre when he received these missives. So
inflamed was he with zeal for the success of this enterprise that he
would have penetrated into the kingdom of Granada with the handful of
cavaliers who accompanied him, but they represented the rashness of such
a journey through the mountainous defiles of a hostile country thickly
beset with towns and castles. With some difficulty, therefore, he was
dissuaded from his inclination, and prevailed upon to await tidings from
the army in the frontier city of Antiquera.



CHAPTER VIII.

SEQUEL OF THE EVENTS AT ALHAMA.


While all Andalusia was thus in arms and pouring its chivalry through
the mountain-passes of the Moorish frontiers, the garrison of Alhama was
reduced to great extremity and in danger of sinking under its sufferings
before the promised succor could arrive. The intolerable thirst that
prevailed in consequence of the scarcity of water, the incessant watch
that had to be maintained over the vast force of enemies without and
the great number of prisoners within, and the wounds which almost every
soldier had received in the incessant skirmishes and assaults, had worn
grievously both flesh and spirit. The noble Ponce de Leon, marques
of Cadiz, still animated the soldiery, however, by word and example,
sharing every hardship and being foremost in every danger, exemplifying
that a good commander is the vital spirit of an army.

When Muley Abul Hassan heard of the vast force that was approaching
under the command of the duke of Medina Sidonia, and that Ferdinand was
coming in person with additional troops, he perceived that no time was
to be lost: Alhama must be carried by one powerful attack or abandoned
entirely to the Christians.

A number of Moorish cavaliers, some of the bravest youth of Granada,
knowing the wishes of the king, proposed to undertake a desperate
enterprise which, if successful, must put Alhama in his power. Early one
morning, when it was scarcely the gray of the dawn, about the time
of changing the watch, these cavaliers approached the town at a place
considered inaccessible from the steepness of the rocks on which the
wall was founded, which, it was supposed, elevated the battlements
beyond the reach of the longest scaling-ladder. The Moorish knights,
aided by a number of the strongest and most active escaladors, mounted
these rocks and applied the ladders without being discovered, for to
divert attention from them Muley Abul Hassan made a false attack upon
the town in another quarter.

The scaling party mounted with difficulty and in small numbers; the
sentinel was killed at his post, and seventy of the Moors made their
way into the streets before an alarm was given. The guards rushed to
the walls to stop the hostile throng that was still pouring in. A sharp
conflict, hand to hand and man to man, took place on the battlements,
and many on both sides fell. The Moors, whether wounded or slain, were
thrown headlong without the walls, the scaling-ladders were overturned,
and those who were mounting were dashed upon the rocks, and from thence
tumbled upon the plain. Thus in a little while the ramparts were cleared
by Christian prowess, led on by that valiant knight Don Alonzo Ponce,
the uncle, and that brave esquire Pedro Pineda, nephew, of the marques
of Cadiz.

The walls being cleared, these two kindred cavaliers now hastened with
their forces in pursuit of the seventy Moors who had gained an entrance
into the town. The main party of the garrison being engaged at a
distance resisting the feigned attack of the Moorish king, this fierce
band of infidels had ranged the streets almost without opposition, and
were making their way to the gates to throw them open to the army.* They
were chosen men from among the Moorish forces, several of them gallant
knights of the proudest families of Granada. Their footsteps through
the city were in a manner printed in blood, and they were tracked by the
bodies of those they had killed and wounded. They had attained the gate;
most of the guard had fallen beneath their scimetars; a moment more and
Alhama would have been thrown open to the enemy.


     * Zurita, lib. 20, c. 43.


Just at this juncture Don Alonzo Ponce and Pedro de Pineda reached the
spot with their forces. The Moors had the enemy in front and rear; they
placed themselves back to back, with their banner in the centre. In
this way they fought with desperate and deadly determination, making a
rampart around them with the slain. More Christian troops arrived and
hemmed them in, but still they fought, without asking for quarter. As
their number decreased they serried their circle still closer, defending
their banner from assault, and the last Moor died at his post grasping
the standard of the Prophet. This standard was displayed from the walls,
and the turbaned heads of the Moors were thrown down to the besiegers.*


     * Pedro de Pineda received the honor of knighthood from the hand
of King Ferdinand for his valor on this occasion (Alonzo Ponce was
already knight.)--See Zuniga, Annales of Seville, lib. 12, an. 1482.


Muley Abul Hassan tore his beard with rage at the failure of this
attempt and at the death of so many of his chosen cavaliers. He saw that
all further effort was in vain; his scouts brought word that they had
seen from the heights the long columns and flaunting banners of the
Christian army approaching through the mountains. To linger would be
to place himself between two bodies of the enemy. Breaking up his camp,
therefore, in all haste, he gave up the siege of Alhama and hastened
back to Granada; and the last clash of his cymbals scarce died upon the
ear from the distant hills before the standard of the Duke of Medina
Sidonia was seen emerging in another direction from the defiles of the
mountains.

When the Christians in Alhama beheld their enemies retreating on one
side and their friends advancing on the other, they uttered shouts
of joy and hymns of thanksgiving, for it was as a sudden relief
from present death. Harassed by several weeks of incessant vigil and
fighting, suffering from scarcity of provisions and almost continual
thirst, they resembled skeletons rather than living men. It was a noble
and gracious spectacle--the meeting of those hitherto inveterate foes,
the duke of Medina Sidonia and the marques of Cadiz. At sight of
his magnanimous deliverer the marques melted into tears: all past
animosities only gave the greater poignancy to present feelings of
gratitude and admiration. The late deadly rivals clasped each other in
their arms, and from that time forward were true and cordial friends.

While this generous scene took place between the commanders a sordid
contest arose among their troops. The soldiers who had come to the
rescue claimed a portion of the spoils of Alhama, and so violent was the
dispute that both parties seized their arms. The duke of Medina
Sidonia interfered, and settled the question with his characteristic
magnanimity. He declared that the spoil belonged to those who had
captured the city. “We have taken the field,” said he, “only for
honor, for religion, and for the rescue of our countrymen and
fellow-Christians, and the success of our enterprise is a sufficient
and a glorious reward. If we desire booty, there are sufficient Moorish
cities yet to be taken to enrich us all.” The soldiers were convinced
by the frank and chivalrous reasoning of the duke; they replied to his
speech by acclamations, and the transient broil was happily appeased.

The marchioness of Cadiz, with the forethought of a loving wife,
had despatched her major-domo with the army with a large supply of
provisions. Tables were immediately spread beneath the tents, where the
marques gave a banquet to the duke and the cavaliers who had accompanied
him, and nothing but hilarity prevailed in this late scene of suffering
and death.

A garrison of fresh troops was left in Alhama, and the veterans who had
so valiantly captured and maintained it returned to their homes burdened
with precious booty. The marques and duke, with their confederate
cavaliers, repaired to Antiquera, where they were received with great
distinction by the king, who honored the marques of Cadiz with signal
marks of favor. The duke then accompanied his late enemy, but now
most zealous and grateful friend, the marques of Cadiz, to his town of
Marchena, where he received the reward of his generous conduct in
the thanks and blessings of the marchioness. The marques celebrated a
sumptuous feast in honor of his guest; for a day and night his palace
was thrown open and was the scene of continual revel and festivity. When
the duke departed for his estates at St. Lucar the marques attended him
for some distance on his journey, and when they separated it was as the
parting scene of brothers. Such was the noble spectacle exhibited to the
chivalry of Spain by these two illustrious rivals. Each reaped universal
renown from the part he had performed in the campaign--the marques from
having surprised and captured one of the most important and formidable
fortresses of the kingdom of Granada, and the duke from having subdued
his deadliest foe by a great act of magnanimity.



CHAPTER IX.

EVENTS AT GRANADA, AND RISE OF THE MOORISH KING, BOABDIL EL CHICO.


The Moorish king, Abul Hassan, returned, baffled and disappointed, from
before the walls of Alhama, and was received with groans and smothered
execrations by the people of Granada. The prediction of the santon was
in every mouth, and appeared to be rapidly fulfilling, for the enemy was
already strongly fortified in Alhama, in the very heart of the kingdom.
At the same time, the nobles who had secretly conspired to depose the
old king and elevate his son Boabdil to the throne had matured their
plans in concert with the prince, who had been joined in Guadix by hosts
of adherents. An opportunity soon presented to carry their plans into
operation.

Muley Abul Hassan had a royal country palace, with gardens and
fountains, called the Alixares, situated on the Cerro del Sol, or
Mountain of the Sun, a height the ascent to which leads up from the
Alhambra, but which towers far above that fortress, and looks down as
from the clouds upon it and upon the subjacent city of Granada. It was
a favorite retreat of the Moorish kings to inhale the pure
mountain-breezes and leave far below the din and turmoil of the city;
Muley Abul Hassan had passed a day among its bowers, in company with
his favorite wife Zoraya, when toward evening he heard a strange sound
rising from the city, like the gathering of a storm or the sullen roar
of the ocean. Apprehensive of evil, he ordered the officers of his guard
to descend with all speed to the city and reconnoitre. The intelligence
brought back was astounding. A civil war was raging in the city. Boabdil
had been brought from Guadix by the conspirators, the foremost of whom
were the gallant race of the Abencerrages. He had entered the Albaycin
in triumph, and been hailed with rapture and proclaimed king in that
populous quarter of the city. Abul Cacim Vanegas, the vizier, at the
head of the royal guards had attacked the rebels, and the noise which
had alarmed the king was the din of fighting in the streets and squares.

Muley Abul Hassan hastened to descend to the Alhambra, confident that,
ensconced in that formidable fortress, he could soon put an end to the
rash commotion. To his surprise and dismay, he found the battlements
lined with hostile troops: Aben Comixa, the alcayde, had declared in
favor of Boabdil and elevated his standard on the towers: thus cut off
from his stronghold, the old monarch was fain to return to the Alixares.

The conflict lasted throughout the night with carnage on both sides. In
the morning Abul Cacim, driven out of the city, appeared before the old
king with his broken squadrons, and told him there was no safety but in
flight. “Allah Akbar!” (God is great!) exclaimed old Muley; “it is in
vain to contend against what is written in the book of fate. It was
predestined that my son should sit upon the throne--Allah forfend the
rest of the prediction.” So saying, he made a hasty retreat, escorted
by Abul Cacim Vanegas and his troops, who conducted him to the castle
of Mondujar in the valley of Locrin. Here he was joined by many powerful
cavaliers, relatives of Abul Cacim and partisans of Zoraya, among whom
were Cid Hiaya, Aben Jamy, and Reduan Vanegas, men who had alcaydes,
vassals, at their command, and possessed great influence in Almeria and
Baza. He was joined also by his brother Abdallah, commonly called El
Zagal, or the Valiant, who was popular in many parts of the kingdom. All
these offered to aid him with their swords in suppressing the rebellion.

Thus reinforced, Muley Abul Hassan determined on a sudden blow for the
recovery of his throne and the punishment of the rebels. He took his
measures with that combination of dexterity and daring which formed his
character, and arrived one night under the walls of Granada with five
hundred chosen followers. Scaling the walls of the Alhambra, he threw
himself with sanguinary fury into its silent courts. The sleeping
inmates were roused from their repose only to fall by the exterminating
scimetar. The rage of Abul Hassan spared neither age nor rank nor sex;
the halls resounded with shrieks and yells, and the fountains ran red
with blood. The alcayde, Aben Comixa, retreated to a strong tower with
a few of the garrison and inhabitants. The furious Abul Hassan did not
lose time in pursuing him; he was anxious to secure the city and to
wreak his vengeance on its rebellious inhabitants. Descending with his
bloody band into the streets, he cut down the defenceless inhabitants
as, startled from their sleep, they rushed forth to learn the cause of
the alarm. The city was soon completely roused; the people flew to arms;
lights blazed in every street, revealing the scanty number of this
band that had been dealing such fatal vengeance in the dark. Muley
Abul Hassan had been mistaken in his conjectures: the great mass of the
people, incensed by his tyranny, were zealous in favor of his son. A
violent but transient conflict took place in the streets and squares:
many of the followers of Abul Hassan were slain, the rest driven out of
the city, and the old monarch, with the remnant of his band, retreated
to his loyal city of Malaga.

Such was the commencement of those great internal feuds and divisions
which hastened the downfall of Granada. The Moors became separated into
two hostile factions, headed by the father and the son, the latter of
whom was called by the Spaniards “El Rey Chico,” or the Young King; but,
though bloody encounters took place between them, they never failed to
act with all their separate force against the Christians as a common
enemy whenever an opportunity occurred.



CHAPTER X.

ROYAL EXPEDITION AGAINST LOXA.


King Ferdinand held a council of war at Cordova, where it was
deliberated what was to be done with Alhama. Most of the council advised
that it should be demolished, inasmuch as, being in the centre of the
Moorish kingdom, it would be at all times liable to attack, and could
only be maintained by a powerful garrison and at a vast expense. Queen
Isabella arrived at Cordova in the midst of these deliberations,
and listened to them with surprise and impatience. “What!” said she,
“destroy the first fruits of our victories? Abandon the first place we
have wrested from the Moors? Never let us suffer such an idea to occupy
our minds. It would argue fear or feebleness, and give new courage to
the enemy. You talk of the toil and expense of maintaining Alhama. Did
we doubt on undertaking this war that it was to be one of infinite cost,
labor, and bloodshed? And shall we shrink from the cost the moment a
victory is obtained and the question is merely to guard or abandon its
glorious trophy? Let us hear no more about the destruction of Alhama;
let us maintain its walls sacred, as a stronghold granted us by Heaven
in the centre of this hostile land; and let our only consideration be
how to extend our conquest and capture the surrounding cities.”

The language of the queen infused a more lofty and chivalrous spirit
into the royal council. Preparations were made to maintain Alhama at all
risk and expense, and King Ferdinand appointed as alcayde Luis Fernandez
Puerto Carrero, senior of the house of Palma, supported by Diego Lopez
de Ayala, Pero Ruiz de Alarcon, and Alonso Ortis, captains of four
hundred lances and a body of one thousand foot, supplied with provisions
for three months.

Ferdinand resolved also to lay siege to Loxa, or Loja, a city of great
strength at no great distance from Alhama, and all-important to its
protection. It was, in fact, a military point situated in a pass of the
mountains between the kingdoms of Granada and Castile, and commanded a
main entrance to the Vega. The Xenil flowed by its walls, and it had a
strong castle or citadel built on a rock. In preparing for the siege of
this formidable place Ferdinand called upon all the cities and towns of
Andalusia and Estramadura, and the domains of the orders of Santiago,
Calatrava, and Alcantara, and of the priory of San Juan, and the kingdom
of Toledo, and beyond to the cities of Salamanca, Toro, and Valladolid,
to furnish, according to their repartimientos or allotments, a certain
quantity of bread, wine, and cattle to be delivered at the royal camp
before Loxa, one half at the end of June and one half in July. These
lands, also, together with Biscay and Guipuscoa, were ordered to send
reinforcements of horse and foot, each town furnishing its quota,
and great diligence was used in providing lombards, powder, and other
warlike munitions.

The Moors were no less active in their preparations, and sent missives
into Africa entreating supplies and calling upon the Barbary princes
to aid them in this war of the faith. To intercept all succor, the
Castilian sovereigns stationed an armada of ships and galleys in the
Straits of Gibraltar under the command of Martin Diaz de Mina and
Carlos de Valera, with orders to scour the Barbary coast and sweep every
Moorish sail from the sea.

While these preparations were making, Ferdinand made an incursion at the
head of his army into the kingdom of Granada, and laid waste the Vega,
destroying its hamlets and villages, ravaging its fields of grain, and
driving away the cattle.

It was about the end of June that King Ferdinand departed from Cordova
to sit down before the walls of Loxa. So confident was he of success
that he left a great part of the army at Ecija, and advanced with but
five thousand cavalry and eight thousand infantry. The marques of Cadiz,
a warrior as wise as he was valiant, remonstrated against employing
so small a force, and indeed was opposed to the measure altogether, as
being undertaken precipitately and without sufficient preparation. King
Ferdinand, however, was influenced by the counsel of Don Diego de Merlo,
and was eager to strike a brilliant and decided blow. A vainglorious
confidence prevailed about this time among the Spanish cavaliers; they
overrated their own prowess, or rather they undervalued and despised
their enemy. Many of them believed that the Moors would scarcely remain
in their city when they saw the Christian troops advancing to assail it.
The Spanish chivalry, therefore, marched gallantly and fearlessly, and
almost carelessly, over the border, scantily supplied with the things
needful for a besieging army in the heart of an enemy’s country. In the
same negligent and confident spirit they took up their station before
Loxa.

The country around was broken and hilly, so that it was extremely
difficult to form a combined camp. The river Xenil, which runs by the
town, was compressed between high banks, and so deep as to be fordable
with extreme difficulty; and the Moors had possession of the bridge.
The king pitched his tents in a plantation of olives on the banks of
the river; the troops were distributed in different encampments on the
heights, but separated from each other by deep rocky ravines, so as to
be incapable of yielding each other prompt assistance. There was no
room for the operations of the cavalry. The artillery also was so
injudiciously placed as to be almost entirely useless. Alonso of Aragon,
duke of Villahermosa and illegitimate brother of the king, was present
at the siege, and disapproved of the whole arrangement. He was one of
the most able generals of his time, and especially renowned for his
skill in battering fortified places. He recommended that the whole
disposition of the camp should be changed, and that several bridges
should be thrown across the river. His advice was adopted, but slowly
and negligently followed, so that it was rendered of no avail. Among
other oversights in this hasty and negligent expedition, the army had no
supply of baked bread, and in the hurry of encampment there was no time
to erect furnaces. Cakes were therefore hastily made and baked on the
coals, and for two days the troops were supplied in this irregular way.

King Ferdinand felt, too late, the insecurity of his position, and
endeavored to provide a temporary remedy. There was a height near the
city, called by the Moors Santo Albohacen, which was in front of
the bridge. He ordered several of his most valiant cavaliers to take
possession of this height and to hold it as a check upon the enemy and a
protection to the camp. The cavaliers chosen for this distinguished and
perilous post were the marques of Cadiz, the marques of Villena, Don
Roderigo Tellez Giron, master of Calatrava, his brother the count of
Urena, and Don Alonso de Aguilar. These valiant warriors and tried
companions-in-arms led their troops with alacrity to the height, which
soon glittered with the array of arms, and was graced by several of the
most redoubtable pennons of warlike Spain.

Loxa was commanded at this time by an old Moorish alcayde whose daughter
was the favorite wife of Boabdil. The name of this Moor was Ibrahim Ali
Atar, but he was generally known among the Spaniards as Alatar. He had
grown gray in border warfare, was an implacable enemy of the Christians,
and his name had long been the terror of the frontier. Lord of Zagra and
in the receipt of rich revenues, he expended them all in paying scouts
and spies and maintaining a small but chosen force with which to foray
into the Christian territories; and so straitened was he at times by
these warlike expenses that when his daughter married Boabdil her bridal
dress and jewels had to be borrowed. He was now in the ninetieth year
of his age, yet indomitable in spirit, fiery in his passions, sinewy and
powerful in frame, deeply versed in warlike stratagem, and accounted the
best lance in all Mauritania. He had three thousand horsemen under his
command, veteran troops with whom he had often scoured the borders, and
he daily expected the old Moorish king with reinforcements.

Old Ali Atar had watched from his fortress every movement of the
Christian army, and had exulted in all the errors of its commanders:
when he beheld the flower of Spanish chivalry glittering about the
height of Albohacen, his eye flashed with exultation. “By the aid of
Allah,” said he, “I will give those pranking cavaliers a rouse.”

Ali Atar privately and by night sent forth a large body of his chosen
troops to lie in ambush near one of the skirts of Albohacen. On the
fourth day of the siege he sallied across the bridge and made a feint
attack upon the height. The cavaliers rushed impetuously forth to meet
him, leaving their encampment almost unprotected. Ali Atar wheeled and
fled, and was hotly pursued. When the Christian cavaliers had been drawn
a considerable distance from their encampment, they heard a vast shout
behind them, and, looking round, beheld their encampment assailed by the
Moorish force which had been placed in ambush, and which had ascended a
different side of the hill. The cavaliers desisted from the pursuit, and
hastened to prevent the plunder of their tents. Ali Atar, in his turn,
wheeled and pursued them, and they were attacked in front and rear on
the summit of the hill. The contest lasted for an hour; the height of
Albohacen was red with blood; many brave cavaliers fell, expiring among
heaps of the enemy. The fierce Ali Atar fought with the fury of a demon
until the arrival of more Christian forces compelled him to retreat into
the city. The severest loss to the Christians in this skirmish was that
of Roderigo Tellez Giron, grand master of Calatrava, whose burnished
armor, emblazoned with the red cross of his order, made him a mark for
the missiles of the enemy. As he was raising his arm to make a blow
an arrow pierced him just beneath the shoulder, at the open part of
the (1) corselet. The lance and bridle fell from his hands, he faltered in
his saddle, and would have fallen to the ground, but was caught by Pedro
Gasca, a cavalier of Avila, who conveyed him to his tent, where he died.
The king and queen and the whole kingdom mourned his death, for he was
in the freshness of his youth, being but twenty-four years of age, and
had proved himself a gallant and high-minded cavalier. A melancholy
group collected about his (2) corpse on the bloody height of Albohacen:
the knights of Calatrava mourned him as a commander; the cavaliers who
were encamped on the height lamented him as their companion-in-arms in
a service of peril; while the count de Urena grieved over him with the
tender affection of a brother.

King Ferdinand now perceived the wisdom of the opinion of the marques of
Cadiz, and that his force was quite insufficient for the enterprise. To
continue his camp in its present unfortunate position would cost him
the lives of his bravest cavaliers, if not a total defeat in case of
reinforcements to the enemy. He called a council of war late in the
evening of Saturday, and it was determined to withdraw the army early
the next morning to Rio Frio, a short distance from the city, and there
wait for additional troops from Cordova.

The next morning early the cavaliers on the height of Albohacen began to
strike their tents. No sooner did Ali Atar behold this than he sallied
forth to attack them. Many of the Christian troops, who had not heard of
the intention to change the camp, seeing the tents struck and the Moors
sallying forth, supposed that the enemy had been reinforced in the
night, and that the army was on the point of retreating. Without
stopping to ascertain the truth or to receive orders they fled in
dismay, spreading confusion through the camp, nor did they halt until
they had reached the Rock of the Lovers, about seven leagues from Loxa.*


     * Pulgar, Cronica.


The king and his commanders saw the imminent peril of the moment,
and made face to the Moors, each commander guarding his quarter and
repelling all assaults while the tents were struck and the artillery
and ammunition conveyed away. The king, with a handful of cavaliers,
galloped to a rising ground, exposed to the fire of the enemy, calling
upon the flying troops and endeavoring in vain to rally them. Setting
upon the Moors, he and his cavaliers charged them so vigorously, that
they put a squadron to flight, slaying many with their swords and lances
and driving others into the river, where they were drowned. The Moors,
however, were soon reinforced, and returned in great numbers. The king
was in danger of being surrounded, and twice owed his safety to the
valor of Don Juan de Ribera, senior of Montemayor.

The marques of Cadiz beheld from a distance the peril of his sovereign.
Summoning about seventy horsemen to follow him, he galloped to the spot,
threw himself between the king and the enemy, and, hurling his lance,
transpierced one of the most daring of the Moors. For some time he
remained with no other weapon than his sword; his horse was wounded
by an arrow and many of his followers were slain; but he succeeded in
beating off the Moors and rescuing the king from imminent jeopardy, whom
he then prevailed upon to retire to less dangerous ground.

The marques continued throughout the day to expose himself to the
repeated assaults of the enemy: he was ever found in the place of the
greatest danger, and through his bravery a great part of the army and
camp was preserved from destruction.*


     * Cura de los Palacios, c. 58.


It was a perilous day for the commanders, for in a retreat of the kind
it is the noblest cavaliers who most expose themselves to save their
people. The duke of Medina Celi was struck to the ground, but rescued by
his troops. The count de Tendilla, whose tents were nearest to the
city, received several wounds, and various other cavaliers of the most
distinguished note were exposed to fearful jeopardy. The whole day was
passed in bloody skirmishings, in which the hidalgos and cavaliers
of the royal household distinguished themselves by their bravery: at
length, the encampments being all broken up and most of the artillery
and baggage removed, the bloody height of Albohacen was abandoned
and the neighborhood of Loxa evacuated. Several tents, a quantity of
provisions, and a few pieces of artillery were left upon the spot from
the want of horses and mules to carry them off.

Ali Atar hung upon the rear of the retiring army, and harassed it
until it reached Rio Frio; Ferdinand returned thence to Cordova,
deeply mortified, though greatly benefited, by the severe lesson he had
received, which served to render him more cautious in his campaigns and
more diffident of fortune. He sent letters to all parts excusing
his retreat, imputing it to the small number of his forces, and the
circumstance that many of them were quotas sent from various cities,
and not in royal pay; in the mean time, to console his troops for their
disappointment and to keep up their spirits, he led them upon another
inroad to lay waste the Vega of Granada.



CHAPTER XI.

HOW MULEY ABUL HASSAN MADE A FORAY INTO THE LANDS OF MEDINA SIDONIA, AND
HOW HE WAS RECEIVED.


Muley Abul Hassan had mustered an army and marched to the relief of
Loxa, but arrived too late; the last squadron of Ferdinand had already
passed over the border. “They have come and gone,” said he, “like a
summer cloud, and all their vaunting has been mere empty thunder.” He
turned to make another attempt upon Alhama, the garrison of which was
in the utmost consternation at the retreat of Ferdinand, and would have
deserted the place had it not been for the courage and perseverance
of the alcayde, Luis Fernandez Puerto Carrero. That brave and loyal
commander cheered up the spirits of his men and kept the old Moorish
king at bay until the approach of Ferdinand, on his second incursion
into the Vega, obliged him to make an unwilling retreat to Malaga.

Muley Abul Hassan felt that it would be in vain, with his inferior
force, to oppose the powerful army of the Christian monarch, but to
remain idle and see his territories laid waste would ruin him in the
estimation of his people. “If we cannot parry,” said he, “we can strike;
if we cannot keep our own lands from being ravaged, we can ravage the
lands of the enemy.” He inquired and learnt that most of the chivalry
of Andalusia, in their eagerness for a foray, had marched off with the
king, and left their own country almost defenceless. The territories of
the duke of Medina Sidonia were particularly unguarded: here were vast
plains of pasturage covered with flocks and herds--the very country for
a hasty inroad. The old monarch had a bitter grudge against the duke for
having foiled him at Alhama. “I’ll give this cavalier a lesson,” said
he, exultingly, “that will cure him of his love of campaigning.” So he
prepared in all haste for a foray into the country about Medina Sidonia.

Muley Abul Hassan sallied out of Malaga with fifteen hundred horse and
six thousand foot, and took the way by the sea-coast, marching through
Estiponia, and entering the Christian country between Gibraltar and
Castellar. The only person that was likely to molest him on this route
was one Pedro de Vargas, a shrewd, hardy, and vigilant soldier, alcayde
of Gibraltar, and who lay ensconced in his old warrior rock as in a
citadel. Muley Abul Hassan knew the watchful and daring character of the
man, but had ascertained that his garrison was too small to enable
him to make a sally, or at least to ensure him any success. Still,
he pursued his march with great silence and caution; sent parties in
advance to explore every pass where a foe might lie in ambush; cast
many an anxious eye toward the old rock of Gibraltar as its cloud-capped
summit was seen towering in the distance on his left; nor did he feel
entirely at ease until he had passed through the broken and mountainous
country of Castellar and descended into the plains. Here he encamped
on the banks of the Celemin, and sent four hundred corredors, or fleet
horsemen, armed with lances, to station themselves near Algeziras
and keep a strict watch across the bay upon the opposite fortress of
Gibraltar. If the alcayde attempted to sally forth, they were to waylay
and attack him, being almost four times his supposed force, and were to
send swift tidings to the camp. In the mean time two hundred corredors
were sent to scour that vast plain called the Campina de Tarifa,
abounding with flocks and herds, and two hundred more were to ravage
the lands about Medina Sidonia. Muley Abul Hassan remained with the main
body of the army as a rallying-point on the banks of the Celemin.

The foraging parties scoured the country to such effect that they came
driving vast flocks and herds before them, enough to supply the place of
all that had been swept from the Vega of Granada. The troops which had
kept watch upon the rock of Gibraltar returned with word that they had
not seen a Christian helmet stirring. The old king congratulated himself
upon the secrecy and promptness with which he had conducted his foray,
and upon having baffled the vigilance of Pedro de Vargas.

He had not been so secret, however, as he imagined; the watchful alcayde
of Gibraltar had received notice of his movements, but his garrison was
barely sufficient for the defence of his post. Luckily, there arrived at
this juncture a squadron of the armed galleys, under Carlos de Valera,
recently stationed in the Straits. Pedro de Vargas prevailed upon him
to take charge of Gibraltar during his temporary absence, and forthwith
sallied out at midnight at the head of seventy chosen horsemen. By his
command alarm-fires were lighted on the mountains, signals that the
Moors were on the ravage, at sight of which the peasants were accustomed
to drive their flocks and herds to places of refuge. He sent couriers
also spurring in every direction, summoning all capable of bearing arms
to meet him at Castellar. This was a town strongly posted on a steep
height, by which the Moorish king would have to return.

Muley Abul Hassan saw by the fires blazing on the mountains that the
country was rising. He struck his tents, and pushed forward as rapidly
as possible for the border; but he was encumbered with booty and with
the vast cavalgada swept from the pastures of the Campina de Tarifa. His
scouts brought him word that there were troops in the field, but he made
light of the intelligence, knowing that they could only be those of the
alcayde of Gibraltar, and that he had not more than a hundred horsemen
in his garrison. He threw in advance two hundred and fifty of his
bravest troops, and with them the alcaydes of Marabella and Casares.
Behind this van-guard followed a great cavalgada of cattle, and in the
rear marched the king with the main force of his little army.

It was near the middle of a sultry summer day when they approached
Castellar. De Vargas was on the watch, and beheld, by an immense cloud
of dust, that they were descending one of the heights of that wild and
broken country. The van-guard and rear-guard were above half a league
asunder, with the cavalgada between them, and a long and close forest
hid them from each other. De Vargas saw that they could render but
little assistance to each other in case of a sudden attack, and might
be easily thrown into confusion. He chose fifty of his bravest horsemen,
and, making a circuit, took his post secretly in a narrow glen opening
into a defile between two rocky heights through which the Moors had to
pass. It was his intention to suffer the van-guard and the cavalgada to
pass, and to fall upon the rear.

While thus lying perdu six Moorish scouts, well mounted and well armed,
entered the glen, examining every place that might conceal an enemy.
Some of the Christians advised that they should slay these six men and
retreat to Gibraltar. “No,” said De Vargas; “I have come out for higher
game than these; and I hope, by the aid of God and Santiago, to do good
work this day. I know these Moors well, and doubt not but that they may
readily be thrown into confusion.”

By this time the six horsemen approached so near that they were on the
point of discovering the Christian ambush. De Vargas gave the word, and
ten horsemen rushed upon them; in an instant four of the Moors rolled in
the dust; the other two put spurs to their steeds and fled toward
their army, pursued by the ten Christians. About eighty of the Moorish
van-guard came galloping to the relief of their companions; the
Christians turned and fled toward their ambush. De Vargas kept his
men concealed until the fugitives and their pursuers came clattering
pell-mell into the glen. At a signal trumpet his men sallied forth
with great heat and in close array. The Moors almost rushed upon
their weapons before they perceived them; forty of the infidels were
overthrown, the rest turned their back. “Forward!” cried De Vargas; “let
us give the van-guard a brush before it can be joined by the rear.” So
saying, he pursued the flying Moors down hill, and came with such force
and fury upon the advance-guard as to overturn many of them at the first
encounter. As he wheeled off with his men the Moors discharged their
lances, upon which he returned to the charge and made great slaughter.
The Moors fought valiantly for a short time, until the alcaydes of
Marabella and Casares were slain, when they gave way and fled for the
rear-guard. In their flight they passed through the cavalgada of cattle,
threw the whole in confusion, and raised such a cloud of dust that the
Christians could no longer distinguish objects. Fearing that the king
and the main body might be at hand, and finding that De Vargas was badly
wounded, they contented themselves with despoiling the slain and taking
above twenty-eight horses, and then retreated to Castellar.

When the routed Moors came flying back upon the rear-guard, Muley Abul
Hassan feared that the people of Xeres were in arms. Several of his
followers advised him to abandon the cavalgada and retreat by another
road. “No,” said the old king; “he is no true soldier who gives up his
booty without fighting.” Putting spurs to his horse, he galloped forward
through the centre of the cavalgada, driving the cattle to the right and
left. When he reached the field of battle, he found it strewed with the
bodies of upward of one hundred Moors, among which were those of the
two alcaydes. Enraged at the sight, he summoned all his crossbowmen and
cavalry, pushed on to the very gates of Castellar, and set fire to two
houses close to the walls. Pedro de Vargas was too severely wounded
to sally forth in person, but he ordered out his troops, and there was
brisk skirmishing under the walls, until the king drew off and returned
to the scene of the recent encounter. Here he had the bodies of the
principal warriors laid across mules, to be interred honorably at
Malaga; the rest of the slain were buried on the field of battle. Then,
gathering together the scattered cavalgada, he paraded it slowly, in an
immense line, past the walls of Castellar by way of taunting his foe.

With all his fierceness, old Muley Abul Hassan had a gleam of warlike
courtesy, and admired the hardy and soldier-like character of Pedro de
Vargas. He summoned two Christian captives, and demanded what were the
revenues of the alcayde of Gibraltar. They told him that, among other
things, he was entitled to one out of every drove of cattle that passed
his boundaries. “Allah forbid,” cried the old monarch, “that so brave a
cavalier should be defrauded of his dues!”

He immediately chose twelve of the finest cattle from the twelve droves
which formed the cavalgada. These he gave in charge to an alfaqui to
deliver to Pedro de Vargas. “Tell him,” said he, “that I crave his
pardon for not having sent these cattle sooner; but I have this moment
learnt the nature of his rights, and I hasten to satisfy them with the
punctuality due to so worthy a cavalier. Tell him, at the same time,
that I had no idea the alcayde of Gibraltar was so active and vigilant
in collecting his tolls.”

The brave alcayde relished the stern soldier-like pleasantry of the old
Moorish monarch. He ordered a rich silken vest and a scarlet mantle to
be given to the alfaqui, and dismissed him with great courtesy. “Tell
His Majesty,” said he, “that I kiss his hands for the honor he has done
me, and regret that my scanty force has not permitted me to give him a
more signal reception on his coming into these parts. Had three hundred
horsemen, whom I have been promised from Xeres, arrived in time, I might
have served up an entertainment more befitting such a monarch. I trust,
however, they will arrive in the course of the night, in which case His
Majesty may be sure of a royal regale in the dawning.”

Muley Abul Hassan shook his head when he received the reply of De
Vargas. “Allah preserve us,” said he, “from any visitation of these hard
riders of Xeres! A handful of troops acquainted with the wild passes of
these mountains may destroy an army encumbered as ours is with booty.”

It was some relief to the king, however, to learn that the hardy alcayde
of Gibraltar was too severely wounded to take the field in person.
He immediately beat a retreat with all speed before the close of day,
hurrying with such precipitation that the cavalgada was frequently
broken and scattered among the rugged defiles of the mountains, and
above five thousand of the cattle turned back and were regained by the
Christians. Muley Abul Hassan returned triumphantly with the residue to
Malaga, glorying in the spoils of the duke of Medina Sidonia.

King Ferdinand was mortified at finding his incursion into the Vega of
Granada counterbalanced by this inroad into his dominions, and saw that
there were two sides to the game of war, as to all other games. The only
one who reaped real glory in this series of inroads and skirmishings was
Pedro de Vargas, the stout alcayde of Gibraltar.*


     * Alonzo de Palencia, 1. 28, c. 3, MS.



CHAPTER XII.

FORAY OF SPANISH CAVALIERS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS OF MALAGA.


The foray of old Muley Abul Hassan had touched the pride of the
Andalusian chivalry, and they determined on retaliation. For this
purpose a number of the most distinguished cavaliers assembled at
Antiquera in the month of March, 1483. The leaders of the enterprise
were, the gallant marques of Cadiz; Don Pedro Henriquez, adelantado of
Andalusia; Don Juan de Silva, count of Cifuentes and bearer of the royal
standard, who commanded in Seville; Don Alonso de Cardenas, master of
the religious and military order of Santiago; and Don Alonso de Aguilar.
Several other cavaliers of note hastened to take part in the enterprise,
and in a little while about twenty-seven hundred horse and several
companies of foot were assembled within the old warlike city of
Antiquera, comprising the very flower of Andalusian chivalry.

A council of war was held by the chiefs to determine in what quarter
they should strike a blow. The rival Moorish kings were waging civil war
with each other in the vicinity of Granada, and the whole country lay
open to inroads. Various plans were proposed by the different cavaliers.
The marques of Cadiz was desirous of scaling the walls of Zahara and
regaining possession of that important fortress. The master of Santiago,
however, suggested a wider range and a still more important object. He
had received information from his adalides, who were apostate Moors,
that an incursion might be safely made into a mountainous region near
Malaga called the Axarquia. Here were valleys of pasture-land well
stocked with flocks and herds, and there were numerous villages and
hamlets, which would be an easy prey. The city of Malaga was too
weakly garrisoned and had too few cavalry to send forth any force in
opposition; nay, he added, they might even extend their ravages to its
very gates, and peradventure carry that wealthy place by sudden assault.

The adventurous spirits of the cavaliers were inflamed by this
suggestion: in their sanguine confidence they already beheld Malaga
in their power, and they were eager for the enterprise. The marques of
Cadiz endeavored to interpose a little cool caution. He likewise had
apostate adalides, the most intelligent and experienced on the borders:
among these he placed especial reliance on one named Luis Amar, who knew
all the mountains and valleys of the country. He had received from him a
particular account of these mountains of the Axarquia.* Their savage
and broken nature was a sufficient defence for the fierce people who
inhabited them, who, manning their rocks and their tremendous passes,
which were often nothing more than the deep dry beds of torrents, might
set whole armies at defiance. Even if vanquished, they afforded no spoil
to the victor. Their houses were little better than bare walls, and they
would drive off their scanty flocks and herds to the fastnesses of the
mountains.


     * Pulgar, in his Chronicle, reverses the case, and makes the marques
of Cadiz recommend the expedition to the Axarquia; but Fray Antonio
Agapida is supported in his statement by that most veracious and
contemporary chronicler, Andres Bernaldez, curate of Los Palacios.


The sober counsel of the marques, however, was overruled. The cavaliers,
accustomed to mountain-warfare, considered themselves and their horses
equal to any wild and rugged expedition, and were flushed with the idea
of terminating their foray by a brilliant assault upon Malaga.

Leaving all heavy baggage at Antiquera, and all such as had horses
too weak for this mountain-scramble, they set forth full of spirit and
confidence. Don Alonso de Aguilar and the adelantado of Andalusia led
the squadron of advance. The count of Cifuentes followed with certain
of the chivalry of Seville. Then came the battalion of the most valiant
Roderigo Ponce de Leon, marques of Cadiz: he was accompanied by several
of his brothers and nephews and many cavaliers who sought distinction
under his banner, and this family band attracted universal attention
and applause as they paraded in martial state through the streets of
Antiquera. The rear-guard was led by Don Alonso Cardenas, master of
Santiago, and was composed of the knights of his order and the cavaliers
of Ecija, with certain men-at-arms of the Holy Brotherhood whom the king
had placed under his command. The army was attended by a great train of
mules, laden with provisions for a few days’ supply until they should be
able to forage among the Moorish villages. Never did a more gallant and
self-confident little army tread the earth. It was composed of men full
of health and vigor, to whom war was a pastime and delight. They had
spared no expense in their equipments, for never was the pomp of war
carried to a higher pitch than among the proud chivalry of Spain. Cased
in armor richly inlaid and embossed, decked with rich surcoats and
waving plumes, and superbly mounted on Andalusian steeds, they pranced
out of Antiquera with banners flying and their various devices and
armorial bearings ostentatiously displayed, and in the confidence of
their hopes promised the inhabitants to enrich them with the spoils of
Malaga.

In the rear of this warlike pageant followed a peaceful band intent
upon profiting by the anticipated victories. They were not the customary
wretches that hover about armies to plunder and strip the dead, but
goodly and substantial traders from Seville, Cordova, and other cities
of traffic. They rode sleek mules and were clad in goodly raiment, with
long leather purses at their girdles well filled with pistoles and other
golden coin. They had heard of the spoils wasted by the soldiery at the
capture of Alhama, and were provided with moneys to buy up the jewels
and precious stones, the vessels of gold and silver, and the rich silks
and cloths that should form the plunder of Malaga. The proud cavaliers
eyed these sons of traffic with great disdain, but permitted them
to follow for the convenience of the troops, who might otherwise be
overburdened with booty.

It had been intended to conduct this expedition with great celerity and
secrecy, but the noise of the preparations had already reached the
city of Malaga. The garrison, it is true, was weak, but it possessed
a commander who was himself a host. This was Muley Abdallah, commonly
called El Zagal, or the Valiant. He was younger brother of Muley Abul
Hassan, and general of the few forces which remained faithful to the old
monarch. He possessed equal fierceness of spirit with his brother, and
surpassed him in craft and vigilance. His very name was a war-cry among
his soldiery, who had the most extravagant opinion of his prowess.

El Zagal suspected that Malaga was the object of this noisy expedition.
He consulted with old Bexir, a veteran Moor, who governed the city. “If
this army of marauders should reach Malaga,” said he, “we should hardly
be able to keep them without its walls. I will throw myself with a small
force into the mountains, rouse the peasantry, take possession of
the passes, and endeavor to give these Spanish cavaliers sufficient
entertainment upon the road.”

It was on a Wednesday that the pranking army of high-mettled warriors
issued forth from the ancient gates of Antiquera. They marched all day
and night, making their way, secretly as they supposed, through the
passes of the mountains. As the tract of country they intended to maraud
was far in the Moorish territories, near the coast of the Mediterranean,
they did not arrive there until late in the following day. In passing
through these stern and lofty mountains their path was often along the
bottom of a barranco, or deep rocky valley, with a scanty stream dashing
along it among the loose rocks and stones which it had broken and rolled
down in the time of its autumnal violence. Sometimes their road was a
mere rambla, or dry bed of a torrent, cut deep into the mountains and
filled with their shattered fragments. These barrancos and ramblas were
overhung by immense cliffs and precipices, forming the lurking-places of
ambuscades during the wars between the Moors and Spaniards, as in after
times they have become the favorite haunts of robbers to waylay the
unfortunate traveller.

As the sun went down the cavaliers came to a lofty part of the
mountains, commanding to the right a distant glimpse of a part of the
fair vega of Malaga, with the blue Mediterranean beyond, and they hailed
it with exultation as a glimpse of the promised land. As the night
closed in they reached the chain of little valleys and hamlets locked up
among these rocky heights, and known among the Moors by the name of the
Axarquia. Here their vaunting hopes were destined to meet with the first
disappointment. The inhabitants had heard of their approach: they
had conveyed away their cattle and effects, and with their wives and
children had taken refuge in the towers and fastnesses of the mountains.

Enraged at their disappointment, the troops set fire to the deserted
houses and pressed forward, hoping for better fortune as they advanced.
Don Alonso de Aguilar and the other cavaliers in the van-guard spread
out their forces to lay waste the country, capturing a few lingering
herds of cattle, with the Moorish peasants who were driving them to some
place of safety.

While this marauding party carried fire and sword in the advance and
lit up the mountain-cliffs with the flames of the hamlets, the master of
Santiago, who brought the rear-guard, maintained strict order, keeping
his knights together in martial array, ready for attack or defence
should an enemy appear. The men-at-arms of the Holy Brotherhood
attempted to roam in quest of booty, but he called them back and rebuked
them severely.

At length they came to a part of the mountain completely broken up
by barrancos and ramblas of vast depth and shagged with rocks and
precipices. It was impossible to maintain the order of march; the horses
had no room for action, and were scarcely manageable, having to scramble
from rock to rock and up and down frightful declivities where there was
scarce footing for a mountain-goat. Passing by a burning village, the
light of the flames revealed their perplexed situation. The Moors, who
had taken refuge in a watch-tower on an impending height, shouted
with exultation when they looked down upon these glistening cavaliers
struggling and stumbling among the rocks. Sallying forth from their
tower, they took possession of the cliffs which overhung the ravine and
hurled darts and stones upon the enemy. It was with the utmost grief of
heart that the good master of Santiago beheld his brave men falling like
helpless victims around him, without the means of resistance or revenge.
The confusion of his followers was increased by the shouts of the
Moors multiplied by the echoes of every crag and cliff, as if they were
surrounded by innumerable foes. Being entirely ignorant of the country,
in their struggles to extricate themselves they plunged into other
glens and defiles, where they were still more exposed to danger. In
this extremity the master of Santiago despatched messengers in search of
succor. The marques of Cadiz, like a loyal companion-in-arms, hastened
to his aid with his cavalry: his approach checked the assaults of the
enemy, and the master was at length enabled to extricate his troops from
the defile.

In the mean time, Don Alonso de Aguilar and his companions, in their
eager advance, had likewise got entangled in deep glens and the dry
beds of torrents, where they had been severely galled by the insulting
attacks of a handful of Moorish peasants posted on the impending
precipices. The proud spirit of De Aguilar was incensed at having the
game of war thus turned upon him, and his gallant forces domineered over
by mountain-boors whom he had thought to drive, like their own cattle,
to Antiquera. Hearing, however, that his friend the marques of Cadiz and
the master of Santiago were engaged with the enemy, he disregarded his
own danger, and, calling together his troops, returned to assist
them, or rather to partake their perils. Being once more together, the
cavaliers held a hasty council amidst the hurling of stones and the
whistling of arrows, and their resolves were quickened by the sight from
time to time of some gallant companion-in-arms laid low. They determined
that there was no spoil in this part of the country to repay for the
extraordinary peril, and that it was better to abandon the herds they
had already taken, which only embarrassed their march, and to retreat
with all speed to less dangerous ground.

The adalides, or guides, were ordered to lead the way out of this place
of carnage. These, thinking to conduct them by the most secure route,
led them by a steep and rocky pass, difficult for the foot-soldiers, but
almost impracticable to the cavalry. It was overhung with precipices,
from whence showers of stones and arrows were poured upon them,
accompanied by savage yells which appalled the stoutest heart. In some
places they could pass but one at a time, and were often transpierced,
horse and rider, by the Moorish darts, impeding the progress of their
comrades by their dying struggles. The surrounding precipices were lit
up by a thousand alarm-fires: every crag and cliff had its flame, by
the light of which they beheld their foes bounding from rock to rock and
looking more like fiends than mortal men.

Either through terror and confusion or through real ignorance of the
country their guides, instead of conducting them out of the mountains,
led them deeper into their fatal recesses. The morning dawned upon them
in a narrow rambla, its bottom formed of broken rocks, where once had
raved along the mountain-torrent, while above there beetled great arid
cliffs, over the brows of which they beheld the turbaned heads of
their fierce and exulting foes. What a different appearance did the
unfortunate cavaliers present from that of the gallant band that marched
so vauntingly out of Antiquera! Covered with dust and blood and wounds,
and haggard with fatigue and horror, they looked like victims rather
than like warriors. Many of their banners were lost, and not a trumpet
was heard to rally up their sinking spirits. The men turned with
imploring eyes to their commanders, while the hearts of the cavaliers
were ready to burst with rage and grief at the merciless havoc made
among their faithful followers.

All day they made ineffectual attempts to extricate themselves from the
mountains. Columns of smoke rose from the heights where in the preceding
night had blazed the alarm-fire. The mountaineers assembled from every
direction: they swarmed at every pass, getting in the advance of
the Christians, and garrisoning the cliffs like so many towers and
battlements.

Night closed again upon the Christians when they were shut up in a
narrow valley traversed by a deep stream and surrounded by precipices
which seemed to reach the skies, and on which blazed and flared the
alarm-fires. Suddenly a new cry was heard resounding along the valley.
“El Zagal! El Zagal!” echoed from cliff to cliff.

“What cry is that?” said the master of Santiago.

“It is the war-cry of El Zagal, the Moorish general,” said an old
Castilian soldier: “he must be coming in person, with the troops of
Malaga.”

The worthy master turned to his knights: “Let us die,” said he, “making
a road with our hearts, since we cannot with our swords. Let us scale
the mountain and sell our lives dearly, instead of staying here to be
tamely butchered.”

So saying, he turned his steed against the mountain and spurred him up
its flinty side. Horse and foot followed his example, eager, if they
could not escape, to have at least a dying blow at the enemy. As they
struggled up the height a tremendous storm of darts and stones was
showered upon them by the Moors. Sometimes a fragment of rock came
bounding and thundering down, ploughing its way through the centre
of their host. The foot-soldiers, faint with weariness and hunger or
crippled by wounds, held by the tails and manes of the horses to aid
them in their ascent, while the horses, losing their foothold among
the loose stones or receiving some sudden wound, tumbled down the steep
declivity, steed, rider, and soldier rolling from crag to crag until
they were dashed to pieces in the valley. In this desperate struggle the
alferez or standard-bearer of the master, with his standard, was lost,
as were many of his relations and his dearest friends. At length he
succeeded in attaining the crest of the mountain, but it was only to be
plunged in new difficulties. A wilderness of rocks and rugged dells lay
before him beset by cruel foes. Having neither banner nor trumpet by
which to rally his troops, they wandered apart, each intent upon saving
himself from the precipices of the mountains and the darts of the enemy.
When the pious master of Santiago beheld the scattered fragments of his
late gallant force, he could not restrain his grief. “O God!” exclaimed
he, “great is thine anger this day against thy servants. Thou hast
converted the cowardice of these infidels into desperate valor, and hast
made peasants and boors victorious over armed men of battle.”

He would fain have kept with his foot-soldiers, and, gathering them
together, have made head against the enemy, but those around him
entreated him to think only of his personal safety. To remain was to
perish without striking a blow; to escape was to preserve a life that
might be devoted to vengeance on the Moors. The master reluctantly
yielded to the advice. “O Lord of hosts!” exclaimed he again, “from thy
wrath do I fly, not from these infidels: they are but instruments in thy
hands to chastise us for our sins.” So saying, he sent the guides in the
advance, and, putting spurs to his horse, dashed through a defile of the
mountains before the Moors could intercept him. The moment the master
put his horse to speed, his troops scattered in all directions.
Some endeavored to follow his traces, but were confounded among
the intricacies of the mountain. They fled hither and thither, many
perishing among the precipices, others being slain by the Moors, and
others taken prisoners.

The gallant marques of Cadiz, guided by his trusty adalid, Luis Amar,
had ascended a different part of the mountain. He was followed by
his friend, Don Alonso de Aguilar, the adelantado, and the count
of Cifuentes, but in the darkness and confusion the bands of these
commanders became separated from each other. When the marques attained
the summit, he looked around for his companions-in-arms, but they were
no longer following him, and there was no trumpet to summon them. It was
a consolation to the marques, however, that his brothers and several of
his relations, with a number of his retainers, were still with him:
he called his brothers by name, and their replies gave comfort to his
heart.

His guide now led the way into another valley, where he would be less
exposed to danger: when he had reached the bottom of it the marques
paused to collect his scattered followers and to give time for his
fellow-commanders to rejoin him. Here he was suddenly assailed by the
troops of El Zagal, aided by the mountaineers from the cliffs. The
Christians, exhausted and terrified, lost all presence of mind: most of
them fled, and were either slain or taken captive. The marques and his
valiant brothers, with a few tried friends, made a stout resistance. His
horse was killed under him; his brothers, Don Diego and Don Lope, with
his two nephews, Don Lorenzo and Don Manuel, were one by one swept from
his side, either transfixed with darts and lances by the soldiers of El
Zagal or crushed by stones from the heights. The marques was a veteran
warrior, and had been in many a bloody battle, but never before had
death fallen so thick and close around him. When he saw his remaining
brother, Don Beltran, struck out of his saddle by a fragment of a rock
and his horse running wildly about without his rider, he gave a cry
of anguish and stood bewildered and aghast. A few faithful followers
surrounded him and entreated him to fly for his life. He would still
have remained, to have shared the fortunes of his friend Don Alonso de
Aguilar and his other companions-in-arms, but the forces of El Zagal
were between him and them, and death was whistling by on every wind.
Reluctantly, therefore, he consented to fly. Another horse was brought
him: his faithful adalid guided him by one of the steepest paths, which
lasted for four leagues, the enemy still hanging on his traces and
thinning the scanty ranks of his followers. At length the marques
reached the extremity of the mountain-defiles, and with a haggard
remnant of his men escaped by dint of hoof to Antiquera.

The count of Cifuentes, with a few of his retainers, in attempting to
follow the marques of Cadiz wandered into a narrow pass, where they were
completely surrounded by the band of El Zagal. The count himself was
assailed by six of the enemy, against whom he was defending himself with
desperation, when their leader, struck with the inequality of the fight,
ordered the others to desist, and continued the combat alone. The count,
already exhausted, was soon compelled to surrender; his brother, Don
Pedro de Silva, and the few of his retainers who survived, were
likewise taken prisoners. The Moorish cavalier who had manifested such a
chivalrous spirit in encountering the count singly was (3) Reduan Vanegas,
brother of the former vizier of Muley Abul Hassan, and one of the
leaders of the faction of the sultana Zoraya.

The dawn of day found Don Alonso de Aguilar with a handful of his
followers still among the mountains. They had attempted to follow the
marques of Cadiz, but had been obliged to pause and defend themselves
against the thickening forces of the enemy. They at length traversed
the mountain, and reached the same valley where the marques had made his
last disastrous stand. Wearied and perplexed, they sheltered themselves
in a natural grotto under an overhanging rock, which kept off the darts
of the enemy, while a bubbling fountain gave them the means of slaking
their raging thirst and refreshing their exhausted steeds. As day
broke the scene of slaughter unfolded its horrors. There lay the noble
brothers and nephews of the gallant marques, transfixed with darts
or gashed and bruised with unseemly wounds, while many other gallant
cavaliers lay stretched out dead and dying around, some of them partly
stripped and plundered by the Moors. De Aguilar was a pious knight, but
his piety was not humble and resigned, like that of the worthy master
of Santiago. He imprecated holy curses upon the infidels for having thus
laid low the flower of Christian chivalry, and he vowed in his heart
bitter vengeance upon the surrounding country.

By degrees the little force of De Aguilar was augmented by numbers of
fugitives who issued from caves and chasms where they had taken refuge
in the night. A little band of mounted knights was gradually formed,
and, the Moors having abandoned the heights to collect the spoils of
the slain, this gallant but forlorn squadron was enabled to retreat to
Antiquera.

This disastrous affair lasted from Thursday evening, throughout Friday,
the twenty-first of March, the festival of St. Benedict. It is still
recorded in Spanish calendars as the defeat of the mountains of Malaga,
and the spot where the greatest slaughter took place is called “la
Cuesta de la Matanza,” or the Hill of the Massacre. The principal
leaders who survived returned to Antiquera. Many of the knights took
refuge in Alhama and other towns: many wandered about the mountains for
eight days, living on roots and herbs, hiding themselves during the day
and sallying forth at night. So enfeebled and disheartened were they
that they offered no resistance if attacked. Three or four soldiers
would surrender to a Moorish peasant, and even the women of Malaga
sallied forth and made prisoners. Some were thrown into the dungeons of
frontier towns, others led captive to Granada, but by far the greater
number were conducted to Malaga, the city they had threatened to attack.
Two hundred and fifty principal cavaliers, alcaydes, commanders, and
hidalgos of generous blood were confined in the alcazaba, or citadel, of
Malaga to await their ransom, and five hundred and seventy of the common
soldiery were crowded in an enclosure or courtyard of the alcazaba to be
sold as slaves.*


     * Cura de los Palacios.


Great spoils were collected of splendid armor and weapons taken from the
slain or thrown away by the cavaliers in their flight, and many horses,
magnificently caparisoned, together with numerous standards,--all which
were paraded in triumph in the Moorish towns.

The merchants also who had come with the army, intending to traffic
in the spoils of the Moors, were themselves made objects of traffic.
Several of them were driven like cattle before the Moorish viragoes to
the market of Malaga, and, in spite of all their adroitness in trade and
their attempts to buy themselves off at a cheap ransom, they were unable
to purchase their freedom without such draughts upon their money-bags at
home as drained them to the very bottom.



CHAPTER XIII.

EFFECTS OF THE DISASTERS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS OF MALAGA.


The people of Antiquera had scarcely recovered from the tumult of
excitement and admiration caused by the departure of the gallant band of
cavaliers upon their foray when they beheld the scattered wrecks flying
for refuge to their walls. Day after day and hour after hour brought
some wretched fugitive, in whose battered plight and haggard woebegone
demeanor it was almost impossible to recognize the warrior who had
lately issued so gayly and gloriously from their gates.

The arrival of the marques of Cadiz almost alone, covered with dust and
blood, his armor shattered and defaced, his countenance the picture of
despair, filled every heart with sorrow, for he was greatly beloved by
the people. The multitude asked of his companions where was the band of
brothers which had rallied round him as he went forth to the field, and
when told that one by one they had been slaughtered at his side, they
hushed their voices or spake to each other only in whispers as he
passed, gazing at him in silent sympathy. No one attempted to console
him in so great an affliction, nor did the good marques speak ever
a word, but, shutting himself up, brooded in lonely anguish over his
misfortune. It was only the arrival of Don Alonso de Aguilar that gave
him a gleam of consolation, rejoicing to find that amidst the shafts of
death which had fallen so thickly among his family his chosen friend and
brother-in-arms had escaped uninjured.

For several days every eye was turned in fearful suspense toward the
Moorish border, anxiously looking in every fugitive from the mountains
for the lineaments of some friend or relative whose fate was yet a
mystery. At length every hope and doubt subsided into certainty; the
whole extent of this great calamity was known, spreading grief and
consternation throughout the land and laying desolate the pride and
hopes of palaces. It was a sorrow that visited the marble hall and
silken pillow. Stately dames mourned over the loss of their sons, the
joy and glory of their age, and many a fair cheek was blanched with woe
which had lately mantled with secret admiration. “All Andalusia,” says a
historian of the time, “was overwhelmed by a great affliction; there was
no drying of the eyes which wept in her.” *


     * Cura de los Palacios.


Fear and trembling reigned for a time along the frontier. Their spear
seemed broken, their buckler cleft in twain: every border town dreaded
an attack, and the mother caught her infant to her bosom when the
watch-dog howled in the night, fancying it the war-cry of the Moor. All
for a time seemed lost, and despondency even found its way to the royal
breasts of Ferdinand and Isabella amidst the splendors of their court.

Great, on the other hand, was the joy of the Moors when they saw whole
legions of Christian warriors brought captive into their towns by rude
mountain-peasantry. They thought it the work of Allah in favor of the
faithful. But when they recognized among the captives thus dejected and
broken down some of the proudest of Christian chivalry; when they saw
several of the banners and devices of the noblest houses of Spain, which
they had been accustomed to behold in the foremost of the battle,
now trailed ignominiously through their streets; when, in short,
they witnessed the arrival of the count of Cifuentes, the royal
standard-bearer of Spain, with his gallant brother, Don Pedro de Silva,
brought prisoners into the gates of Granada,--there were no bounds to
their exultation. They thought that the days of their ancient glory were
about to return, and that they were to renew their career of triumph
over the unbelievers.

The Christian historians of the time are sorely perplexed to account
for this misfortune, and why so many Christian knights, fighting in the
cause of the holy faith, should thus miraculously, as it were, be given
captive to a handful of infidel boors, for we are assured that all this
rout and destruction was effected by five hundred foot and fifty horse,
and those mere mountaineers without science or discipline.* “It
was intended,” observes one historiographer, “as a lesson to their
confidence and vainglory, overrating their own prowess and thinking that
so chosen a band of chivalry had but to appear in the land of the enemy
and conquer. It was to teach them that the race is not to the swift nor
the battle to the strong, but that God alone giveth the victory.”


     * Cura de los Palacios.


The worthy father Fray Antonio Agapida, however, asserts it to be a
punishment for the avarice of the Spanish warriors. They did not enter
the kingdom of the infidels with the pure spirit of Christian knights,
zealous only for the glory of the faith, but rather as greedy men of
traffic, to enrich themselves by vending the spoils of the infidels.
Instead of preparing themselves by confession and communion, and
executing their testaments, and making donations and bequests to
churches and convents, they thought only of arranging bargains and sales
of their anticipated booty. Instead of taking with them holy monks
to aid them with their prayers, they were followed by a train of
trading-men to keep alive their worldly and sordid ideas, and to turn
what ought to be holy triumphs into scenes of brawling traffic. Such is
the opinion of the excellent Agapida, in which he is joined by that most
worthy and upright of chroniclers, the curate of Los Palacios. Agapida
comforts himself, however, with the reflection that this visitation
was meant in mercy to try the Castilian heart, and to extract from its
present humiliation the elements of future success, as gold is extracted
from amidst the impurities of earth; and in this reflection he is
supported by the venerable historian Pedro Abarca of the Society of
Jesuits.*


     * Abarca, Anales de Aragon, Rey 30, cap. 2, \0xA4 7.



CHAPTER XIV.

HOW KING BOABDIL EL CHICO MARCHED OVER THE BORDER.


The defeat of the Christian cavaliers among the mountains of Malaga,
and the successful inroad of Muley Abul Hassan into the lands of Medina
Sidonia, had produced a favorable effect on the fortunes of the old
monarch. The inconstant populace began to shout forth his name in the
streets, and to sneer at the inactivity of his son Boabdil el Chico. The
latter, though in the flower of his age and distinguished for vigor and
dexterity in jousts and tournaments, had never yet fleshed his weapon
in the field of battle; and it was murmured that he preferred the silken
repose of the cool halls of the Alhambra to the fatigue and danger of
the foray and the hard encampments of the mountains.

The popularity of these rival kings depended upon their success against
the Christians, and Boabdil el Chico found it necessary to strike some
signal blow to counterbalance the late triumph of his father. He was
further incited by his father-in-law, Ali Atar, alcayde of Loxa, with
whom the coals of wrath against the Christians still burned among the
ashes of age, and had lately been blown into a flame by the attack made
by Ferdinand on the city under his command.


Ali Atar informed Boabdil that the late discomfiture of the Christian
knights had stripped Andalusia of the prime of her chivalry and broken
the spirit of the country. All the frontier of Cordova and Ecija now lay
open to inroad; but he especially pointed out the city of Lucena as an
object of attack, being feebly garrisoned and lying in a country rich in
pasturage, abounding in cattle and grain, in oil and wine. The fiery old
Moor spoke from thorough information, for he had made many an incursion
into these parts, and his very name was a terror throughout the country.
It had become a by-word in the garrison of Loxa to call Lucena the
garden of Ali Atar, for he was accustomed to forage its fertile
territories for all his supplies.

Boabdil el Chico listened to the persuasions of this veteran of the
borders. He assembled a force of nine thousand foot and seven hundred
horse, most of them his own adherents, but many the partisans of his
father; for both factions, however they might fight among themselves,
were ready to unite in any expedition 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
deter him from his enterprise: arriving at the rambla, or dry ravine, of
Beyro, which is scarcely a bowshot from the city, a fox ran through the
whole army and close by the person of the king, and, though a thousand
bolts were discharged at it, escaped uninjured to the mountains.
The principal courtiers now reiterated their remonstrances against
proceeding; the king, however, was not to be dismayed by these portents,
but continued to march forward.*


     * Marmol, Rebel. de los Moros, lib. 1, c. xii., fol. 14.


At Loxa the army was reinforced by old Ali Atar with the chosen horsemen
of his garrison and many of the bravest warriors of the border towns.
The people of Loxa shouted with exultation when they beheld Ali Atar
armed at all points and mounted on his Barbary steed, which had often
borne him over the borders. The veteran warrior, with nearly a century
of years upon his head, had all the fire and animation of youth at the
prospect of a foray, and careered from rank to rank with the velocity of
an Arab of the desert. The populace watched the army as it paraded over
the bridge and wound into the passes of the mountains, and still their
eyes were fixed upon the pennon of Ali Atar as if it bore with it an
assurance of victory.

The Moorish army entered the Christian frontier by forced marches,
hastily ravaging the country, driving off the flocks and herds, and
making captives of the inhabitants. They pressed on furiously, and made
the latter part of their march in the night, to elude observation and
come upon Lucena by surprise. Boabdil was inexperienced in warfare, but
had a veteran counsellor in his old father-in-law; for Ali Atar knew
every secret of the country, and as he prowled through it his eye
ranged over the land, uniting in its glare the craft of the fox with
the sanguinary ferocity of the wolf. He had flattered himself that their
march had been so rapid as to outstrip intelligence, and that Lucena
would be an easy capture, when suddenly he beheld alarm-fires blazing
upon the mountains. “We are discovered,” said he to Boabdil; “the
country will be up in arms; we have nothing left but to strike boldly
for Lucena: it is but slightly garrisoned, and we may carry it by
assault before it can receive assistance.” The king approved of his
counsel, and they marched rapidly for the gate of Lucena.



CHAPTER XV.

HOW THE COUNT DE CABRA SALLIED FORTH FROM HIS CASTLE IN QUEST OF KING
BOABDIL.


Don Diego de Cordova, count of Cabra, was in the castle of Vaena, which,
with the town of the same name, is situated on a lofty sun-burnt hill
on the frontier of the kingdom of Cordova and but a few leagues from
Lucena. The range of mountains of Horquera lies between them. The castle
of Vaena was strong and well furnished with arms, and the count had a
numerous band of vassals and retainers; for it behooved the noblemen
of the frontiers in those times to be well prepared with man and horse,
with lance and buckler, to resist the sudden incursions of the Moors.
The count of Cabra was a hardy and experienced warrior, shrewd in
council, prompt in action, rapid and fearless in the field. He was one
of the bravest of cavaliers for an inroad, and had been quickened and
sharpened in thought and action by living on the borders.

On the night of the 20th of April, 1483, the count was about to retire
to rest when the watchman from the turret brought him word that there
were alarm-fires on the mountains of Horquera, and that they were made
on the signal-tower overhanging the defile through which the road passes
to Cabra and Lucena.

The count ascended the battlement and beheld five lights blazing on the
tower--a sign that there was a Moorish army attacking some place on the
frontier. The count instantly ordered the alarm-bells to be sounded, and
despatched couriers to rouse the commanders of the neighboring towns.
He called upon his retainers to prepare for action, and sent a trumpet
through the town summoning the men to assemble at the castle-gate at
daybreak armed and equipped for the field.

Throughout the remainder of the night the castle resounded with the
din of preparation. Every house in the town was in equal bustle, for
in these frontier towns every house had its warrior, and the lance and
buckler were ever hanging against the wall ready to be snatched down for
instant service. Nothing was heard but the din of armorers, the
shoeing of steeds, and furbishing up of weapons, and all night long the
alarm-fires kept blazing on the mountains.

When the morning dawned the count of Cabra sallied forth at the head of
two hundred and fifty cavaliers of the best families of Vaena, all well
appointed, exercised in arms, and experienced in the warfare of the
borders. There were besides twelve hundred foot-soldiers, brave and
well-seasoned men of the same town. The count ordered them to hasten
forward, whoever could make most speed, taking the road to Cabra, which
was three leagues distant. That they might not loiter on the road he
allowed none of them to break their fast until they arrived at that
place. The provident count despatched couriers in advance, and the
little army on reaching Cabra found tables spread with food and
refreshments at the gates of the town. Here they were joined by Don
Alonso de Cordova, senior of Zuheros.

Having made a hearty repast, they were on the point of resuming their
march when the count discovered that in the hurry of his departure from
home he had forgotten to bring the standard of Vaena, which for upward
of eighty years had always been borne to battle by his family. It was
now noon, and there was no time to return: he took, therefore, the
standard of Cabra, the device of which is a goat, and which had not
been seen in the wars for the last half century. When about to depart
a courier came galloping at full speed, bringing missives to the count
from his nephew, Don Diego Fernandez de Cordova, senior of Lucena and
alcayde de los Donceles,* entreating him to hasten to his aid, as his
town was beset by the Moorish king, Boabdil el Chico, with a powerful
army, who were actually setting fire to the gates.


     * The “Donceles” were young cavaliers who had been pages in
the royal household, but now formed an elite corps in the army.


The count put his little army instantly in movement for Lucena, which
is only one league from Cabra; he was fired with the idea of having the
Moorish king in person to contend with. By the time he reached Lucena
the Moors had desisted from the attack and were ravaging the surrounding
country. He entered the town with a few of his cavaliers, and was
received with joy by his nephew, whose whole force consisted but of
eighty horse and three hundred foot. Don Diego Fernandez de Cordova was
a young man, yet he was a prudent, careful, and capable officer. Having
learnt, the evening before, that the Moors had passed the frontiers,
he had gathered within his walls all the women and children from the
environs, had armed the men, sent couriers in all directions for succor,
and had lighted alarm-fires on the mountains.

Boabdil had arrived with his army at daybreak, and had sent in a message
threatening to put the garrison to the sword if the place were not
instantly surrendered. The messenger was a Moor of Granada, named
Hamet, whom Don Diego had formerly known: he contrived to amuse him with
negotiation to gain time for succor to arrive. The fierce old Ali Atar,
losing all patience, had made an assault upon the town and stormed like
a fury at the gate, but had been repulsed. Another and more serious
attack was expected in the course of the night.

When the count de Cabra had heard this account of the situation of
affairs, he turned to his nephew with his usual alacrity of manner, and
proposed that they should immediately sally forth in quest of the enemy.
The prudent Don Diego remonstrated at the rashness of attacking so great
a force with a mere handful of men. “Nephew,” said the count, “I came
from Vaena with a determination to fight this Moorish king, and I will
not be disappointed.”

“At any rate,” replied Don Diego, “let us wait but two hours, and we
shall have reinforcements which have been promised me from Rambla,
Santaella, Montilla, and other places in the neighborhood.” “If we
await these,” said the hardy count, “the Moors will be off, and all our
trouble will have been in vain. You may await them if you please; I am
resolved on fighting.”

The count paused for no reply, but in his prompt and rapid manner
sallied forth to his men. The young alcayde de los Donceles, though more
prudent than his ardent uncle, was equally brave; he determined to stand
by him in his rash enterprise, and, summoning his little force,
marched forth to join the count, who was already on the move. They then
proceeded together in quest of the enemy.

The Moorish army had ceased ravaging the country, and was not to be
seen, the neighborhood being hilly and broken with deep ravines. The
count despatched six scouts on horseback to reconnoitre, ordering them
to return with all speed on discovering the enemy, and by no means to
engage in skirmishing with stragglers. The scouts, ascending a high
hill, beheld the Moorish army in a valley behind it, the cavalry ranged
in five battalions keeping guard, while the foot-soldiers were seated
on the grass making a repast. They returned immediately with the
intelligence.

The count now ordered the troops to march in the direction of the enemy.
He and his nephew ascended the hill, and saw that the five battalions
of Moorish cavalry had been formed into two, one of about nine hundred
lances, the other of about six hundred. The whole force seemed prepared
to march for the frontier. The foot-soldiers were already under way with
many prisoners and a great train of mules and beasts of burden
laden with booty. At a distance was Boabdil el Chico: they could not
distinguish his person, but they knew him by his superb black and white
charger, magnificently caparisoned, and by his being surrounded by a
numerous guard sumptuously armed and attired. Old Ali Atar was careering
about the valley with his usual impatience, hurrying the march of the
loitering troops.

The eyes of the count de Cabra glistened with eager joy as he beheld
the royal prize within his reach. The immense disparity of their forces
never entered into his mind. “By Santiago!” said he to his nephew as
they hastened down the hill, “had we waited for more forces the Moorish
king and his army would have escaped us.”

The count now harangued his men to inspirit them to this hazardous
encounter. He told them not to be dismayed at the number of the Moors,
for God often permitted the few to conquer the many, and he had great
confidence that through the divine aid they were that day to achieve
a signal victory which should win them both riches and renown. He
commanded that no man should hurl his lance at the enemy, but should
keep it in his hands and strike as many blows with it as he could. He
warned them also never to shout except when the Moors did, for when
both armies shouted together there was no perceiving which made the most
noise and was the strongest. He desired his uncle Lope de Mendoza, and
Diego de Cabrera, alcayde of Dona Mencia, to alight and enter on foot
in the battalion of infantry to animate them to the combat. He appointed
also the alcayde of Vaena and Diego de Clavijo, a cavalier of his
household, to remain in the rear, and not to permit any one to lag
behind, either to despoil the dead or for any other purpose.

Such were the orders given by this most adroit, active, and intrepid
cavalier to his little army, supplying by admirable sagacity and subtle
management the want of a more numerous force. His orders being given
and all arrangements made, he threw aside his lance, drew his sword, and
commanded his standard to be advanced against the enemy.



CHAPTER XVI.

THE BATTLE OF LUCENA.


The Moorish king had descried the Spanish forces at a distance, although
a slight fog prevented his seeing them distinctly and ascertaining their
numbers. His old father-in-law, Ali Atar, was by his side, who, being
a veteran marauder, was well acquainted with all the standards and
armorial bearings of the frontiers. When the king beheld the ancient and
long-disused banner of Cabra emerging from the mist, he turned to Ali
Atar and demanded whose ensign it was. The old borderer was for once at
a loss, for the banner had not been displayed in battle in his time.
“In truth,” replied he, after a pause, “I have been considering that
standard for some time, but I confess I do not know it. It cannot be
the ensign of any single commander or community, for none would venture
single-handed to attack you. It appears to be a dog, which device is
borne by the towns of Baeza and Ubeda. If it be so, all Andalusia is in
movement against you, and I would advise you to retire.”

The count de Cabra, in winding down the hill toward the Moors, found
himself on much lower ground than the enemy: he ordered in all haste
that his standard should be taken back, so as to gain the
vantage-ground. The Moors, mistaking this for a retreat, rushed
impetuously toward the Christians. The latter, having gained the height
proposed, charged upon them at the same moment with the battle-cry of
“Santiago!” and, dealing the first blows, laid many of the Moorish
cavaliers in the dust.

The Moors, thus checked in their tumultuous assault, were thrown into
confusion, and began to give way, the Christians following hard upon
them. Boabdil el Chico endeavored to rally them. “Hold! hold! for
shame!” cried he; “let us not fly, at least until we know our enemy.”
 The Moorish chivalry were stung by this reproof, and turned to make
front with the valor of men who feel that they are fighting under their
monarch’s eye.

At this moment, Lorenzo de Porres, alcayde of Luque, arrived with fifty
horse and one hundred foot, sounding an Italian trumpet from among a
copse of oak trees which concealed his force. The quick ear of old Ali
Atar caught the note. “That is an Italian trumpet,” said he to the king;
“the whole world seems in arms against Your Highness!”

The trumpet of Lorenzo de Porres was answered by that of the count de
Cabra in another direction, and it seemed to the Moors as if they were
between two armies. Don Lorenzo, sallying from among the oaks, now
charged upon the enemy: the latter did not wait to ascertain the force
of this new foe; the confusion, the variety of alarums, the attacks from
opposite quarters, the obscurity of the fog, all conspired to deceive
them as to the number of their adversaries. Broken and dismayed, they
retreated fighting, and nothing but the presence and remonstrances of
the king prevented their retreat from becoming a headlong flight. If
Boabdil had displayed little of the talents of a general in the outset
of his enterprise, he manifested courage and presence of mind amid
the disasters of its close. Seconded by a small body of cavalry, the
choicest and most loyal of his guards, he made repeated stand against
the press of the foe in a skirmishing retreat of about three leagues,
and the way was strewn with the flower of his chivalry. At length they
came to the brook of Martin Gonzales (or Mingozales, as it is called by
the Moorish chroniclers), which, swollen by recent rain, was now a deep
and turbid torrent. Here a scene of confusion ensued. Horse and foot
precipitated themselves into the stream. Some of the horses stuck
fast in the mire and blocked up the ford; others trampled down the
foot-soldiers; many were drowned and more carried down the stream. Such
of the foot-soldiers as gained the opposite side immediately took to
flight; the horsemen, too, who had struggled through the stream, gave
reins to their steeds and scoured for the frontier.

The little band of devoted cavaliers about the king serried their forces
to keep the enemy in check, fighting with them hand to hand until he
should have time to cross. In the tumult his horse was shot down, and
he became environed in the throng of foot-soldiers struggling forward to
the ford and in peril from the lances of their pursuers. Conscious that
his rich array made him a conspicuous object, he retreated along the
bank of the river, and endeavored to conceal himself in a thicket of
willows and tamarisks. Thence, looking back, he beheld his loyal band at
length give way, supposing, no doubt, he had effected his escape. They
crossed the ford, followed pell-mell by the enemy, and several of them
were struck down in the stream.

While Boabdil was meditating to throw himself into the water and
endeavor to swim across, he was discovered by Martin Hurtado, regidor of
Lucena, a brave cavalier who had been captive in the prisons of Granada
and exchanged for a Christian knight. Hurtado attacked the king with
a pike, but was kept at bay until, seeing other soldiers approaching,
Boabdil cried for quarter, proclaiming himself a person of high rank who
would pay a noble ransom. At this moment came up several men of Vaena,
of the troop of the count de Cabra. Hearing the talk of ransom and
noticing the splendid attire of the Moor, they endeavored to secure for
themselves so rich a prize. One of them seized hold of Boabdil, but the
latter resented the indignity by striking him to the earth with a blow
of his poniard. Others of Hurtado’s townsmen coming up, a contest
arose between the men of Lucena and Vaena as to who had a right to the
prisoner. The noise brought Don Diego Fernandez de Cordova to the spot,
who by his authority put an end to the altercation. Boabdil, finding
himself unknown by all present, concealed his quality, giving himself
out as the son of Aben Alnayer, a cavalier of the royal household.* Don
Diego treated him with great courtesy, put a red band round his neck in
sign of his being a captive, and sent him under an escort to the castle
of Lucena where his quality would be ascertained, his ransom arranged,
and the question settled as to who had made him prisoner.


     * Garibay, lib. 40, cap 31.


This done, the count put spurs to his horse and hastened to rejoin the
count de Cabra, who was in hot pursuit of the enemy. He overtook him
at a stream called Reanaul, and they continued together to press on the
skirts of the flying army during the remainder of the day. The pursuit
was almost as hazardous as the battle, for had the enemy at any time
recovered from their panic, they might, by a sudden reaction, have
overwhelmed the small force of their pursuers. To guard against this
peril, the wary count kept his battalion always in close order, and had
a body of a hundred chosen lancers in the advance. The Moors kept up a
Parthian retreat; several times they turned to make battle, but, seeing
this solid body of steeled warriors pressing upon them, they again took
to flight.

The main retreat of the army was along the valley watered by the Xenil
and opening through the mountains of Algaringo to the city of Loxa. The
alarm-fires of the preceding night had aroused the country; every man
snatched sword and buckler from the wall, and the towns and villages
poured forth their warriors to harass the retreating foe. Ali Atar kept
the main force of the army together, and turned fiercely from time to
time upon his pursuers: he was like a wolf hunted through the country he
had often made desolate by his maraudings.

The alarm of this invasion had reached the city of Antiquera, where
were several of the cavaliers who had escaped from the carnage in the
mountains of Malaga. Their proud minds were festering with their late
disgrace, and their only prayer was for vengeance on the infidels. No
sooner did they hear of the Moor being over the border than they were
armed and mounted for action. Don Alonso de Aguilar led them forth--a
small body of but forty horsemen, but all cavaliers of prowess and
thirsting for revenge. They came upon the foe on the banks of the Xenil
where it winds through the valleys of Cordova. The river, swelled by the
late rains, was deep and turbulent and only fordable at certain places.
The main body of the army was gathered in confusion on the banks,
endeavoring to ford the stream, protected by the cavalry of Ali Atar.

No sooner did the little band of Alonso de Aguilar come in sight of
the Moors than fury flashed from their eyes. “Remember the mountains of
Malaga!” cried they to each other as they rushed to combat. Their charge
was desperate, but was gallantly resisted. A scrambling and bloody fight
ensued, hand to hand and sword to sword, sometimes on land, sometimes
in the water. Many were lanced on the banks; others, throwing themselves
into the river, sank with the weight of their armor and were drowned;
some, grappling together, fell from their horses, but continued their
struggle in the waves, and helm and turban rolled together down the
stream. The Moors were far greater in number, and among them were
many warriors of rank; but they were disheartened by defeat, while the
Christians were excited even to desperation.

Ali Atar alone preserved all his fire and energy amid his reverses. He
had been enraged at the defeat of the army and the ignominious flight he
had been obliged to make through a country which had so often been the
scene of his exploits; but to be thus impeded in his flight and harassed
and insulted by a mere handful of warriors roused the violent passions
of the old Moor to perfect frenzy. He had marked Don Alonso de Aguilar
dealing his blows (says Agapida) with the pious vehemence of a righteous
knight, who knows that in every wound inflicted upon the infidels he
is doing God service. Ali Atar spurred his steed along the bank of the
river to come upon Don Alonso by surprise. The back of the warrior was
toward him, and, collecting all his force, the Moor hurled his lance
to transfix him on the spot. The lance was not thrown with the usual
accuracy of Ali Atar: it tore away a part of the cuirass of Don Alonso,
but failed to inflict a wound. The Moor rushed upon Don Alonso with his
scimetar, but the latter was on the alert and parried his blow. They
fought desperately upon the borders of the river, alternately pressing
each other into the stream and fighting their way again up the bank.
Ali Atar was repeatedly wounded, and Don Alonso, having pity on his age,
would have spared his life: he called upon him to surrender. “Never,”
 cried Ali Atar, “to a Christian dog!” The words were scarce out of his
mouth when the sword of Don Alonso clove his turbaned head and sank deep
into the brain. He fell dead without a groan; his body rolled into the
Xenil, nor was it ever found or recognized.* Thus fell Ali Atar, who had
long been the terror of Andalusia. As he had hated and warred upon the
Christians all his life, so he died in the very act of bitter hostility.


     * Cura de los Palacios.


The fall of Ali Atar put an end to the transient stand of the cavalry.
Horse and foot mingled together in the desperate struggle across the
Xenil, and many were trampled down and perished beneath the waves. Don
Alonso and his band continued to harass them until they crossed the
frontier, and every blow struck home to the Moors seemed to lighten the
load of humiliation and sorrow which had weighed heavy on their hearts.

In this disastrous rout the Moors lost upward of five thousand killed
and made prisoners, many of whom were of the most noble lineages
of Granada; numbers fled to rocks and mountains, where they were
subsequently taken.

Boabdil remained a prisoner in the state tower of the citadel of Lucena
under the vigilance of Alonso de Rueda, esquire of the alcayde of the
Donceles; his quality was still unknown until the 24th of April, three
days after the battle. On that day some prisoners, natives of Granada,
just brought in, caught a sight of the unfortunate Boabdil despoiled of
his royal robes. Throwing themselves at his feet, they broke forth in
loud lamentations, apostrophizing him as their lord and king.

Great was the astonishment and triumph of the count de Cabra and
Don Diego Fernandez de Cordova on learning the rank of the supposed
cavalier. They both ascended to the castle to see that he was lodged
in a style befitting his quality. When the good count beheld in the
dejected captive before him the monarch who had so recently appeared in
royal splendor surrounded by an army, his generous heart was touched by
sympathy. He said everything to comfort him that became a courteous and
Christian knight, observing that the same mutability of things which
had suddenly brought him low might as rapidly restore him to prosperity,
since in this world nothing is stable, and sorrow, like joy, has its
allotted term.

The action here recorded was called by some the battle of Lucena,
by others the battle of the Moorish king, because of the capture of
Boabdil. Twenty-two banners, taken on the occasion, were borne in
triumph into Vaena on the 23d of April, St. George’s Day, and hung up in
the church. There they remain (says a historian of after times) to this
day. Once a year, on the festival of St. George, they are borne about in
procession by the inhabitants, who at the same time give thanks to God
for this signal victory granted to their forefathers.*


     * Several circumstances relative to the capture of Boabdil vary in
this from the first edition, in consequence of later light thrown on the
subject by Don Miguel Lafuente Alcantara in his History of Granada. He
has availed himself much of various ancient documents relative to the
battle, especially the History of the House of Cordova by the abbot of
Rute, a descendant of that family--a rare manuscript of which few copies
exist.


The question as to the person entitled to the honor and reward for
having captured the king long continued a matter of dispute between
the people of Lucena and Vaena. On the 20th of October, 1520, about
thirty-seven years after the event, an examination of several witnesses
to the fact took place before the chief justice of the fortress of
Lucena, at the instance of Bartolomy Hurtado, the son of Martin, when
the claim of his father was established by Dona Leonora Hernandez, lady
in attendant on the mother of the alcayde of los Donceles, who testified
being present when Boabdil signalized Martin Hurtado as his captor.

The chief honor of the day, and of course of the defeat and capture of
the Moorish monarch, was given by the sovereign to the count de Cabra;
the second to his nephew, Don Diego Fernandez de Cordova.

Among the curious papers cited by Alcantara is one existing in the
archives of the House of Medina Celi, giving the account of the
treasurer of Don Diego Fernandez as to the sums expended by his lord
in the capture of the king, the reward given to some soldiers for a
standard of the king’s which they had taken, to others for the wounds
they had received, etc.

Another paper speaks of an auction at Lucena on the 28th of April
of horses and mules taken in the battle. Another paper states the
gratuities of the alcayde of los Donceles to the soldiery--four fanegas,
or about four hundredweight, of wheat and a lance to each horseman, two
fanegas of wheat and a lance to each foot-soldier.



CHAPTER XVII.

LAMENTATIONS OF THE MOORS FOR THE BATTLE OF LUCENA.


The sentinels looked out from the watch-towers of Loxa along the valley
of the Xenil, which passes through the mountains of Algaringo. They
looked to behold the king returning in triumph at the head of his
shining host, laden with the spoil of t

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/3293