SIEGE OF RONDA.
The bold Hamet el Zegri, the alcayde of Ronda, had returned sullenly to
his stronghold after the surrender of Coin. He had fleshed his sword
in battle with the Christians, but his thirst for vengeance was still
unsatisfied. Hamet gloried in the strength of his fortress and the valor
of his people. A fierce and warlike populace was at his command; his
signal-fires could summon all the warriors of the Serrania; his Gomeres
almost subsisted on the spoils of Andalusia; and in the rock on which
his fortress was built were hopeless dungeons filled with Christian
captives carried off by these war-hawks of the mountains.
Ronda was considered as impregnable. It was situated in the heart of
wild and rugged mountains, and perched upon an isolated rock crested by
a strong citadel, with triple walls and towers. A deep ravine, or rather
a perpendicular chasm of the rocks, of frightful depth, surrounded three
parts of the city; through this flowed the Rio Verde, or Green River.
There were two suburbs to the city, fortified by walls and towers, and
almost inaccessible from the natural asperity of the rocks. Around
this rugged city were deep rich valleys, sheltered by the mountains,
refreshed by constant streams, abounding with grain and the most
delicious fruits, and yielding verdant meadows, in which was reared a
renowned breed of horses, the best in the whole kingdom for a foray.
Hamet el Zegri had scarcely returned to Ronda when he received
intelligence that the Christian army was marching to the siege of
Malaga, and orders from El Zagal to send troops to his assistance.
Hamet sent a part of his garrison for that purpose; in the mean time he
meditated an expedition to which he was stimulated by pride and revenge.
All Andalusia was now drained of its troops; there was an opportunity,
therefore, for an inroad by which he might wipe out the disgrace of
his defeat at the battle of Lopera. Apprehending no danger to his
mountain-city, now that the storm of war had passed down into the vega
of Malaga, he left but a remnant of his garrison to man its walls, and,
putting himself at the head of his band of Gomeres, swept down suddenly
into the plains of Andalusia. He careered, almost without resistance,
over those vast campinas or pasture-lands which formed a part of the
domains of the duke of Medina Sidonia. In vain the bells were rung and
the alarm-fires kindled: the band of Hamet had passed by before any
force could be assembled, and was only to be traced, like a hurricane,
by the devastation it had made.
Hamet regained in safety the Serrania de Ronda, exulting in his
successful inroad. The mountain-glens were filled with long droves of
cattle and flocks of sheep from the campinas of Medina Sidonia. There
were mules, too, laden with the plunder of the villages, and every
warrior had some costly spoil of jewels for his favorite mistress.
As the Zegri drew near to Ronda he was roused from his dream of triumph
by the sound of heavy ordnance bellowing through the mountain-defiles.
His heart misgave him: he put spurs to his horse and galloped in advance
of his lagging cavalgada. As he proceeded the noise of the ordnance
increased, echoing from cliff to cliff. Spurring his horse up a
craggy height which commanded an extensive view, he beheld, to his
consternation, the country about Ronda white with the tents of a
besieging army. The royal standard, displayed before a proud encampment,
showed that Ferdinand himself was present, while the incessant blaze and
thunder of artillery and the volumes of overhanging smoke told the work
of destruction that was going on.
The royal army had succeeded in coming upon Ronda by surprise during
the absence of its alcayde and most of its garrison; but its inhabitants
were warlike and defended themselves bravely, trusting that Hamet and
his Gomeres would soon return to their assistance.
The fancied strength of their bulwarks had been of little avail against
the batteries of the besiegers. In the space of four days three towers
and great masses of the walls which defended the suburbs were battered
down and the suburbs taken and plundered. Lombards and other heavy
ordnance were now levelled at the walls of the city, and stones and
missiles of all kinds hurled into the streets. The very rock on
which the city stood shook with the thunder of the artillery, and the
Christian captives, deep within its dungeons, hailed the sound as a
promise of deliverance.
When Hamet el (8) Zegri beheld his city thus surrounded and assailed,
he called upon his men to follow him and cut their way through to its
relief. They proceeded stealthily through the mountains until they came
to the nearest heights above the Christian camp. When night fell and
part of the army was sunk in sleep, they descended the rocks, and,
rushing suddenly upon the weakest part of the camp, endeavored to break
their way through and gain the city. The camp was too strong to be
forced; they were driven back to the crags of the mountains, whence
they defended themselves by showering down darts and stones upon their
pursuers.
Hamet now lit alarm-fires about the heights: his standard was joined by
the neighboring mountaineers and by troops from Malaga. Thus reinforced,
he made repeated assaults upon the Christians, cutting off all
stragglers from the camp. All his attempts to force his way into the
city, however, were fruitless; many of his bravest men were slain, and
he was obliged to retreat into the fastnesses of the mountains.
In the mean while the distress of Ronda increased hourly. The marques of
Cadiz, having possession of the suburbs, was enabled to approach to the
very foot of the perpendicular precipice rising from the river on the
summit of which the city is built. At the foot of this rock is a living
fountain of limpid water gushing into a great natural basin. A secret
mine led down from within the city to this fountain by several hundred
steps cut in the solid rock. Hence the city obtained its chief supply of
water, and these steps were deeply worn by the weary feet of Christian
captives employed in this painful labor. The marques of Cadiz discovered
this subterraneous passage, and directed his pioneers to countermine in
the side of the rock; they pierced to the shaft, and, stopping it up,
deprived the city of the benefit of this precious fountain.
While the marques was thus pressing the siege with the generous thought
of soon delivering his companions-in-arms from the Moorish dungeons,
far other were the feelings of the alcayde, Hamet el Zegri. He smote
his breast and gnashed his teeth in impotent fury as he beheld from
the mountain-cliffs the destruction of the city. Every thunder of the
Christian ordnance seemed to batter against his heart. He saw tower
after tower tumbling by day, and various parts of the city in a blaze
at night. “They fired not merely stones from their ordnance,” says
a chronicler of the times, “but likewise great balls of iron cast in
moulds, which demolished everything they struck. They threw also balls
of tow steeped in pitch and oil and gunpowder, which, when once on fire,
were not to be extinguished, and which set the houses in flames. Great
was the horror of the inhabitants: they knew not where to fly for
refuge: their houses were in a blaze or shattered by the ordnance; the
streets were perilous from the falling ruins and the bounding balls,
which dashed to pieces everything they encountered. At night the city
looked like a fiery furnace; the cries and wailings of the women between
the thunders of the ordnance reached even to the Moors on the opposite
mountains, who answered them by yells of fury and despair.”
All hope of external succor being at an end, the inhabitants of Ronda
were compelled to capitulate. Ferdinand was easily prevailed upon to
grant them favorable terms. The place was capable of longer resistance,
and he feared for the safety of his camp, as the forces were daily
augmenting on the mountains and making frequent assaults. The
inhabitants were permitted to depart with their effects, either to
Barbary, Granada, or elsewhere, and those who chose to reside in Spain
had lands assigned them and were indulged in the practice of their
religion.
No sooner did the place surrender than detachments were sent to attack
the Moors who hovered about the neighboring mountains. Hamet el Zegri,
however, did not remain to make a fruitless battle. He gave up the game
as lost, and retreated with his Gomeres, filled with grief and rage, but
trusting to fortune to give him future vengeance.
The first care of the good marques of Cadiz on entering Ronda was to
deliver his unfortunate companion-in-arms from the dungeons of the
fortress. What a difference in their looks from the time when, flushed
with health and hope and arrayed in military pomp, they had sallied
forth upon the mountain-foray! Many of them were almost naked, with
irons at their ankles and beards reaching to their waists. Their meeting
with the marques was joyful, yet it had the look of grief, for their joy
was mingled with many bitter recollections. There was an immense number
of other captives, among whom were several young men of noble families
who with filial piety had surrendered themselves prisoners in place of
their fathers.
The captives were all provided with mules and sent to the queen at
Cordova. The humane heart of Isabella melted at the sight of the piteous
cavalcade. They were all supplied by her with food and raiment, and
money to pay their expenses to their homes. Their chains were hung as
pious trophies against the exterior of the church of St. Juan de los
Reyes in Toledo, where the Christian traveller may regale his eyes with
the sight of them at this very day.*
* Seen by the author in 1826.
Among the Moorish captives was a young infidel maiden, of great beauty,
who desired to become a Christian and to remain in Spain. She had been
inspired with the light of the true faith through the ministry of a
young man who had been a captive in Ronda. He was anxious to complete
his good work by marrying her. The queen consented to their pious
wishes, having first taken care that the young maiden should be properly
purified by the holy sacrament of baptism.
“Thus this pestilent nest of warfare and infidelity, the city of Ronda,”
says the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida, “was converted to the true faith
by the thunder of our artillery--an example which was soon followed by
Cazarabonela, Marbella, and other towns in these parts, insomuch that
in the course of this expedition no less than seventy-two places were
rescued from the vile sect of Mahomet and placed under the benignant
domination of the Cross.”