OF THE FORTRESS OF ALHAMA, AND HOW WISELY IT WAS GOVERNED BY THE COUNT
DE TENDILLA.
In this part of his chronicle the worthy father Fray Antonio Agapida
indulges in triumphant exultation over the downfall of Zahara. Heaven
sometimes speaks (says he) through the mouths of false prophets for the
confusion of the wicked. By the fall of this fortress was the prediction
of the santon of Granada in some measure fulfilled, that “the ruins of
Zahara should fall upon the heads of the infidels.”
Our zealous chronicler scoffs at the Moorish alcayde who lost his
fortress by surprise in broad daylight, and contrasts the vigilance of
the Christian governor of Alhama, the town taken in retaliation for the
storming of Zahara.
The important post of Alhama was at this time confided by King Ferdinand
to Don Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, count of Tendilla, a cavalier of noble
blood, brother to the grand cardinal of Spain. He had been instructed by
the king not merely to maintain his post, but also to make sallies and
lay waste the surrounding country. His fortress was critically situated.
It was within seven leagues of Granada, and at no great distance from
the warlike city of Loxa. It was nestled in the lap of the mountains
commanding the high-road to Malaga and a view over the extensive Vega.
Thus situated, in the heart of the enemy’s country, surrounded by foes
ready to assail him and a rich country for him to ravage, it behooved
this cavalier to be for ever on the alert. He was in fact an experienced
veteran, a shrewd and wary officer, and a commander amazingly prompt and
fertile in expedients.
On assuming the command he found that the garrison consisted but of one
thousand men, horse and foot. They were hardy troops, seasoned in rough
mountain-campaigning, but reckless and dissolute, as soldiers are apt
to be when accustomed to predatory warfare. They would fight hard for
booty, and then gamble it heedlessly away or squander it in licentious
revelling. Alhama abounded with hawking, sharping, idle hangers-on,
eager to profit by the vices and follies of the garrison. The soldiers
were oftener gambling and dancing beneath the walls than keeping watch
upon the battlements, and nothing was heard from morning till night
but the noisy contests of cards and dice, mingled with the sound of the
bolero or fandango, the drowsy strumming of the guitar, and the rattling
of the castanets, while often the whole was interrupted by the loud
brawl and fierce and bloody contest.
The count of Tendilla set himself vigorously to reform these excesses:
he knew that laxity of morals is generally attended by neglect of duty,
and that the least breach of discipline in the exposed situation of his
fortress might be fatal. “Here is but a handful of men,” said he; “it is
necessary that each man should be a hero.”
He endeavored to awaken a proper ambition in the minds of his soldiers
and to instil into them the high principles of chivalry. “A just war,”
he observed, “is often rendered wicked and disastrous by the manner
in which it is conducted; for the righteousness of the cause is not
sufficient to sanction the profligacy of the means, and the want of
order and subordination among the troops may bring ruin and disgrace
upon the best-concerted plans.” But we cannot describe the character and
conduct of this renowned commander in more forcible language than that
of Fray Antonio Agapida, excepting that the pious father places in
the foreground of his virtues his hatred of the Moors. “The count de
Tendilla,” says he, “was a mirror of Christian knighthood--watchful,
abstemious, chaste, devout, and thoroughly filled with the spirit of the
cause. He labored incessantly and strenuously for the glory of the faith
and the prosperity of their most Catholic majesties; and, above all,
he hated the infidels with a pure and holy hatred. This worthy cavalier
discountenanced all idleness, rioting, chambering, and wantonness among
his soldiery. He kept them constantly to the exercise of arms, making
them adroit in the use of their weapons and management of their steeds,
and prompt for the field at a moment’s notice. He permitted no sound
of lute or harp or song or other loose minstrelsy to be heard in his
fortress, debauching the ear and softening the valor of the soldier;
no other music was allowed but the wholesome rolling of the drum and
braying of the trumpet, and such like spirit-stirring instruments
as fill the mind with thoughts of iron war. All wandering minstrels,
sharping peddlers, sturdy trulls, and other camp trumpery were ordered
to pack up their baggage, and were drummed out of the gates of Alhama.
In place of such lewd rabble he introduced a train of holy friars to
inspirit his people by exhortation and prayer and choral chanting, and
to spur them on to fight the good fight of faith. All games of chance
were prohibited except the game of war, and this he labored, by
vigilance and vigor, to reduce to a game of certainty. Heaven smiled
upon the efforts of this righteous cavalier. His men became soldiers at
all points and terrors to the Moors. The good count never set forth on
a ravage without observing the rites of confession, absolution, and
communion, and obliging his followers to do the same. Their banners were
blessed by the holy friars whom he maintained in Alhama; and in
this way success was secured to his arms and he was enabled to lay waste
the land of the heathen.”
The fortress of Alhama (continues Fray Antonio Agapida) overlooked from
its lofty site a great part of the fertile Vega, watered by the Cazin
and the Xenil; from this he made frequent sallies, sweeping away the
flocks and herds from the pasture, the laborer from the field, and the
convoy from the road; so that it was said by the Moors that a beetle
could not crawl across the Vega without being seen by Count Tendilla.
The peasantry, therefore, were fain to betake themselves to watch-towers
and fortified hamlets, where they shut up their cattle, garnered their
corn, and sheltered their wives and children. Even there they were not
safe: the count would storm these rustic fortresses with fire and sword,
make captives of their inhabitants, carry off the corn, the oil, the
silks, and cattle, and leave the ruins blazing and smoking within the
very sight of Granada.
“It was a pleasing and refreshing sight,” continues the good father, “to
behold this pious knight and his followers returning from one of these
crusades, leaving the rich land of the infidel in smoking desolation
behind them; to behold the long line of mules and asses laden with the
plunder of the Gentiles--the hosts of captive Moors, men, women, and
children--droves of sturdy beeves, lowing kine, and bleating sheep,--all
winding up the steep acclivity to the gates of Alhama, pricked on by the
Catholic soldiery. His garrison thus thrived on the fat of the land
and the spoil of the infidel; nor was he unmindful of the pious fathers
whose blessings crowned his enterprises with success. A large portion of
the spoil was always dedicated to the Church, and the good friars were
ever ready at the gate to hail him on his return and receive the share
allotted them. Besides these allotments, he made many votive offerings,
either in time of peril or on the eve of a foray, and the chapels of
Alhama were resplendent with chalices, crosses, and other precious gifts
made by this Catholic cavalier.”
Thus eloquently does the venerable Fray Antonio Agapida dilate in praise
of the good count de Tendilla; and other historians of equal veracity,
but less unction, agree in pronouncing him one of the ablest of Spanish
generals. So terrible, in fact, did he become in the land that the
Moorish peasantry could not venture a league from Granada or Loxa to
labor in the fields without peril of being carried into captivity. The
people of Granada clamored against Muley Abul Hassan for suffering his
lands to be thus outraged and insulted, and demanded to have this bold
marauder shut up in his fortress. The old monarch was roused by their
remonstrances. He sent forth powerful troops of horse to protect the
country during the season that the husbandmen were abroad in the fields.
These troops patrolled in formidable squadrons in the neighborhood of
Alhama, keeping strict watch upon its gates, so that it was impossible
for the Christians to make a sally without being seen and intercepted.
While Alhama was thus blockaded by a roving force of Moorish cavalry,
the inhabitants were awakened one night by a tremendous crash that shook
the fortress to its foundations. The garrison flew to arms, supposing it
some assault of the enemy. The alarm proved to have been caused by the
rupture of a portion of the wall, which, undermined by heavy rains, had
suddenly given way, leaving a large chasm yawning toward the plain.
The count de Tendilla was for a time in great anxiety. Should this
breach be discovered by the blockading horsemen, they would arouse the
country, Granada and Loxa would pour out an overwhelming force, and
they would find his walls ready sapped for an assault. In this fearful
emergency the count displayed his noted talent for expedients. He
ordered a quantity of linen cloth to be stretched in front of the
breach, painted in imitation of stone and indented with battlements, so
as at a distance to resemble the other parts of the walls: behind this
screen he employed workmen day and night in repairing the fracture.
No one was permitted to leave the fortress, lest information of its
defenceless plight should be carried to the Moor. Light squadrons of
the enemy were seen hovering about the plain, but never approached near
enough to discover the deception; and thus in the course of a few days
the wall was rebuilt stronger than before.
There was another expedient of this shrewd veteran which greatly excites
the marvel of Agapida. “It happened,” he observes, “that this Catholic
cavalier at one time was destitute of gold and silver wherewith to pay
the wages of his troops; and the soldiers murmured greatly, seeing that
they had not the means of purchasing necessaries from the people of the
town. In this dilemma what does this most sagacious commander? He
takes me a number of little morsels of paper, on the which he inscribes
various sums, large and small, according to the nature of the case,
and signs me them with his own hand and name. These did he give to the
soldiery in earnest of their pay. ‘How!’ you will say, ‘are soldiers to
be paid with scraps of paper?’ Even so, I answer, and well paid too, as
I will presently make manifest, for the good count issued a proclamation
ordering the inhabitants of Alhama to take these morsels of paper for
the full amount thereon inscribed, promising to redeem them at a future
time with silver and gold, and threatening severe punishment to all
who should refuse. The people, having full confidence in his word, and
trusting that he would be as willing to perform the one promise as he
certainly was able to perform the other, took those curious morsels of
paper without hesitation or demur. Thus by a subtle and most miraculous
kind of alchymy did this Catholic cavalier turn worthless paper into
precious gold, and make his late impoverished garrison abound in money!”
It is but just to add that the count de Tendilla redeemed his promises
like a loyal knight; and this miracle, as it appeared in the eyes of
Fray Antonio Agapida, is the first instance on record of paper money,
which has since inundated the civilized world with unbounded opulence.