HOW HAMET EL ZEGRI SALLIED FORTH WITH THE SACRED BANNER TO ATTACK THE
CHRISTIAN CAMP.
“The Moorish nigromancer,” observes the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida,
“remained shut up in a tower of the Gibralfaro devising devilish means
to work mischief and discomfiture upon the Christians. He was daily
consulted by Hamet, who had great faith in those black and magic arts
which he had brought with him from the bosom of heathen Africa.”
From the account given of this dervise and his incantations by the
worthy father it would appear that he was an astrologer, and was
studying the stars and endeavoring to calculate the day and hour when a
successful attack might be made upon the Christian camp.
Famine had now increased to such a degree as to distress even the
garrison of Gibralfaro, although the Gomeres had seized upon all the
provisions they could find in the city. Their passions were sharpened by
hunger, and they became restless and turbulent and impatient for action.
Hamet was one day in council with his captains, perplexed by the
pressure of events, when the dervise entered among them. “The hour of
victory,” exclaimed he, “is at hand. Allah has commanded that to-morrow
morning ye shall sally forth to the fight. I will bear before you
the sacred banner and deliver your enemies into your hands. Remember,
however, that ye are but instruments in the hands of Allah to take
vengeance on the enemies of the faith. Go into battle, therefore, with
pure hearts, forgiving each other all past offences, for those who are
charitable toward each other will be victorious over the foe.” The
words of the dervise were received with rapture; all Gibralfaro and
the Alcazaba resounded immediately with the din of arms, and Hamet sent
throughout the towers and fortifications of the city and selected
the choicest troops and most distinguished captains for this eventful
combat.
In the morning early the rumor went throughout the city that the sacred
banner had disappeared from the tower of Gibralfaro, and all Malaga was
roused to witness the sally that was to destroy the unbelievers. Hamet
descended from his stronghold, accompanied by his principal captain,
Ibrahim Zenete, and followed by his Gomeres. The dervise led the way,
displaying the white banner, the sacred pledge of victory. The multitude
shouted “Allah Akbar!” and prostrated themselves before the banner as
it passed. Even the dreaded Hamet was hailed with praises, for in their
hopes of speedy relief through the prowess of his arm the populace
forgot everything but his bravery. Every bosom in Malaga was agitated
by hope and fear: the old men, the women, and children, and all who went
not forth to battle mounted on tower and battlement and roof to watch a
combat that was to decide their fate.
Before sallying forth from the city the dervise addressed the troops,
reminding them of the holy nature of this enterprise, and warning them
not to forfeit the protection of the sacred banner by any unworthy act.
They were not to pause to make spoil nor to take prisoners: they were to
press forward, fighting valiantly, and granting no quarter. The gate was
then thrown open, and the dervise issued forth, followed by the army.
They directed their assaults upon the encampments of the master of
Santiago and the master of Alcantara, and came upon them so suddenly
that they killed and wounded several of the guards. Ibrahim Zenete
made his way into one of the tents, where he beheld several Christian
striplings just starting from their slumber. The heart of the Moor was
suddenly touched with pity for their youth, or perhaps he scorned the
weakness of the foe.
He smote them with the flat instead of the edge of the sword. “Away,
imps!” cried he, “away to your mothers!” The fanatic dervise reproached
him with his clemency. “I did not kill them,” replied Zenete, “because I
saw no beards!”*
* Cura de los Palacios, c. 84.
The alarm was given in the camp, and the Christians rushed from all
quarters to defend the gates of the bulwarks. Don Pedro Puerto
Carrero, senior of Moguer, and his brother, Don Alonzo Pacheco, planted
themselves with their followers in the gateway of the encampment of the
master of Santiago, and bore the whole brunt of battle until they were
reinforced. The gate of the encampment of the master of Calatrava was in
like manner defended by Lorenzo Saurez de Mendoza. Hamet was furious at
being thus checked where he had expected a miraculous victory. He led
his troops repeatedly to the attack, hoping to force the gates before
succor should arrive: they fought with vehement ardor, but were as often
repulsed, and every time they returned to the assault they found their
enemies doubled in number. The Christians opened a cross-fire of all
kinds of missiles from their bulwarks; the Moors could effect but
little damage upon a foe thus protected behind their works, while they
themselves were exposed from head to foot. The Christians singled out
the most conspicuous cavaliers, the greater part of whom were either
slain or wounded. Still, the Moors, infatuated by the predictions of
the prophet, fought desperately and devotedly, and they were furious to
revenge the slaughter of their leaders. They rushed upon certain death,
endeavoring madly to scale the bulwarks or force the gates, and fell
amidst showers of darts and lances, filling the ditches with their
mangled bodies.
Hamet el Zegri raged along the front of the bulwarks seeking an opening
for attack. He gnashed his teeth with fury as he saw so many of his
chosen warriors slain around him. He seemed to have a charmed life,
for, though constantly in the hottest of the fight amidst showers of
missiles, he still escaped uninjured. Blindly confiding in the prophecy
of victory, he continued to urge on his devoted troops. The dervise
too ran like a maniac through the ranks, waving his white banner and
inciting the Moors by howlings rather than by shouts. “Fear not! the
victory is ours, for so it is written!” cried he. In the midst of his
frenzy a stone from a catapult struck him in the head and dashed out his
bewildered brains.*
* Garibay, lib. 18, c. 33.
When the Moors beheld their prophet slain and his banner in the dust,
they were seized with despair and fled in confusion to the city. Hamet
el Zegri made some effort to rally them, but was himself confounded by
the fall of the dervise. He covered the flight of his broken forces,
turning repeatedly upon their pursuers and slowly making his retreat
into the city.
The inhabitants of Malaga witnessed from their walls with trembling
anxiety the whole of this disastrous conflict. At the first onset, when
they beheld the guards of the camp put to flight, they exclaimed, “Allah
has given us the victory!” and they sent up shouts of triumph. Their
exultation, however, was soon turned into doubt when they beheld their
troops repulsed in repeated attacks. They could see from time to time
some distinguished warrior laid low and others brought back bleeding to
the city. When at length the sacred banner fell and the routed troops
came flying to the gates, pursued and cut down by the foe, horror and
despair seized upon the populace.
As Hamet entered the gates he heard nothing but loud lamentations:
mothers whose sons had been slain shrieked curses after him as he
passed; some in the anguish of their hearts threw down their famishing
babes before him, exclaiming, “Trample on them with thy horse’s feet,
for we have no food to give them, and we cannot endure their cries.” All
heaped execrations on his head as the cause of the woes of Malaga.
The warlike part of the citizens also, and many warriors who with
their wives and children had taken refuge in Malaga from the
mountain-fortresses, now joined in the popular clamor, for their hearts
were overcome by the sufferings of their families.
Hamet el Zegri found it impossible to withstand this torrent of
lamentations, curses, and reproaches. His military ascendancy was at an
end, for most of his officers and the prime warriors of his African band
had fallen in this disastrous sally. Turning his back, therefore, upon
the city and abandoning it to its own counsels, he retired with the
remnant of his Gomeres to his stronghold in the Gibralfaro.