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.