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.