ADVANCE OF KING FERDINAND AGAINST MALAGA.
The army of Ferdinand advanced in lengthened line, glittering along the
foot of the mountains which border the Mediterranean, while a fleet of
vessels, freighted with heavy artillery and warlike munitions, kept
pace with it at a short distance from the land, covering the sea with a
thousand gleaming sails. When Hamet el Zegri saw this force approaching,
he set fire to the houses of the suburbs which adjoined the walls and
sent forth three battalions to encounter the advance guard of the enemy.
The Christian army drew near to the city at that end where the castle
and rocky height of Gibralfaro defended the seaboard. Immediately
opposite, at about two bow-shots’ distance, stood the castle, and
between it and the high chain of mountains was a steep and rocky hill,
at present called the hill of St. Christobal, commanding a pass through
which the Christians must march to penetrate to the vega and surround
the city. Hamet ordered the three battalions to take their stations--one
on this hill, another in the pass near the castle, and a third on the
side of the mountain near the sea.
A body of Spanish foot-soldiers of the advance guard, sturdy
mountaineers of Galicia, sprang forward to climb the side of the height
next the sea, at the same time a number of cavaliers and hidalgos of the
royal household attacked the Moors who guarded the pass below. The Moors
defended their posts with obstinate valor. The Galicians were repeatedly
overpowered and driven down the hill, but as often rallied, and, being
reinforced by the hidalgos and cavaliers, returned to the assault. This
obstinate struggle lasted for six hours: the strife was of a deadly
kind, not merely with crossbows and arquebuses, but hand to hand with
swords and daggers; no quarter was claimed or given on either side--they
fought not to make captives, but to slay. It was but the advance of the
Christian army that was engaged; so narrow was the pass along the coast
that the army could proceed only in file: horse and foot and beasts of
burden were crowded one upon another, impeding each other and blocking
up the narrow and rugged defile. The soldiers heard the uproar of the
battle, the sound of trumpets, and the war-cries of the Moors, but tried
in vain to press forward to the assistance of their companions.
At length a body of foot-soldiers of the Holy Brotherhood climbed with
great difficulty the steep side of the mountain which overhung the pass,
and advanced with seven banners displayed. The Moors, seeing this force
above them, abandoned the pass in despair. The battle was still raging
on the height; the Galicians, though supported by Castilian troops under
Don Hurtado de Mendoza and Garcilasso de la Vega, were severely pressed
and roughly handled by the Moors: at length a brave standard-bearer,
Luys Mazeda by name, threw himself into the midst of the enemy and
planted his banner on the summit. The Galicians and Castilians,
stimulated by this noble self-devotion, followed him, fighting
desperately, and the Moors were at length driven to their castle of
Gibralfaro.*
* Pulgar, Cronica.
This important height being taken, the pass lay open to the army, but
by this time evening was advancing, and the host was too weary and
exhausted to seek proper situations for the encampment. The king,
attended by several grandees and cavaliers, went the rounds at night,
stationing outposts toward the city and guards and patrols to give the
alarm on the least movement of the enemy. All night the Christians lay
upon their arms, lest there should be some attempt to sally forth and
attack them.
When the morning dawned the king gazed with admiration at this city
which he hoped soon to add to his dominions. It was surrounded on one
side by vineyards, gardens, and orchards, which covered the hills with
verdure; on the other side its walls were bathed by the smooth and
tranquil sea. Its vast and lofty towers and prodigious castles, hoary
with age, yet unimpaired in strength, showed the labors of magnanimous
men in former times to protect their favorite abode. Hanging gardens,
groves of oranges, citrons, and pomegranates, with tall cedars and
stately palms, were mingled with the stern battlements and towers,
bespeaking the opulence and luxury that reigned within.
In the mean time, the Christian army poured through the pass, and,
throwing out its columns and extending its lines, took possession of
every vantage-ground around the city. King Ferdinand surveyed the ground
and appointed the stations of the different commanders.
The important mount of St. Christobal, which had cost so violent a
struggle and faced the powerful fortress of Gibralfaro, was given in
charge to Roderigo Ponce de Leon, marques of Cadiz, who in all sieges
claimed the post of danger. He had several noble cavaliers with their
retainers in his encampment, which consisted of fifteen hundred horse
and fourteen thousand foot, and extended from the summit of the mount to
the margin of the sea, completely blocking up the approach to the city
on that side. From this post a line of encampments extended quite round
the city to the seaboard, fortified by bulwarks and deep ditches, while
a fleet of armed ships and galleys stretched before the harbor, so that
the place was completely invested by sea and land. The various parts
of the valley now resounded with the din of preparation, and was filled
with artificers preparing warlike engines and munitions; armorers
and smiths with glowing forges and deafening hammers; carpenters
and engineers constructing machines wherewith to assail the walls;
stone-cutters shaping stone balls for the ordnance; and burners of
charcoal preparing fuel for the furnaces and forges.
When the encampment was formed the heavy ordnance was landed from the
ships and mounted in various parts of the camp. Five huge lombards were
placed on the mount commanded by the marques of Cadiz, so as to bear
upon the castle of Gibralfaro.
The Moors made strenuous efforts to impede these preparations. They kept
up a heavy fire from their ordnance upon the men employed in digging
trenches or constructing batteries, so that the latter had to
work principally in the night. The royal tents had been stationed
conspicuously and within reach of the Moorish batteries, but were so
warmly assailed that they had to be removed behind a hill.
When the works were completed the Christian batteries opened in return,
and kept up a tremendous cannonade, while the fleet, approaching the
land, assailed the city vigorously on the opposite side.
“It was a glorious and delectable sight,” observes Fray Antonio Agapida,
“to behold this infidel city thus surrounded by sea and land by a mighty
Christian force. Every mound in its circuit was, as it were, a little
city of tents bearing the standard of some renowned Catholic warrior.
Besides the warlike ships and galleys which lay before the place, the
sea was covered with innumerable sails, passing and repassing, appearing
and disappearing, being engaged in bringing supplies for the subsistence
of the army. It seemed a vast spectacle contrived to recreate the eye,
did not the volleying bursts of flame and smoke from the ships, which
seemed to lie asleep on the quiet sea, and the thunder of ordnance from
camp and city, from tower and battlement, tell the deadly warfare that
was waging.
“At night the scene was far more direful than in the day. The cheerful
light of the sun was gone; there was nothing but the flashes of
artillery or the baleful gleams of combustibles thrown into the city,
and the conflagration of the houses. The fire kept up from the Christian
batteries was incessant: there were seven great lombards in particular,
called the Seven Sisters of Ximenes, which did tremendous execution.
The Moorish ordnance replied in thunder from the walls; Gibralfaro was
wrapped in volumes of smoke rolling about its base; and Hamet and his
Gomeres looked out with triumph upon the tempest of war they had awaked.
Truly they were so many demons incarnate,” concludes the pious Fray
Antonio Agapida, “who were permitted by Heaven to enter into and possess
this infidel city for its perdition.”