THE BATTLE OF THE GARDENS BEFORE BAZA.
When the reply of the Moorish commanders was brought to King Ferdinand,
he prepared to press the siege with the utmost vigor. Finding the
camp too far from the city, and that the intervening orchards afforded
shelter for the sallies of the Moors, he determined to advance it
beyond the gardens, in the space between them and the suburbs, where
his batteries would have full play upon the city walls. A detachment was
sent in advance to take possession of the gardens and keep a check upon
the suburbs, opposing any sally while the encampment should be formed
and fortified. The various commanders entered the orchards at different
points. The young cavaliers marched fearlessly forward, but the
experienced veterans foresaw infinite peril in the mazes of this verdant
labyrinth. The master of St. Jago, as he led his troops into the centre
of the gardens, exhorted them to keep by one another, and to press
forward in defiance of all difficulty or danger, assuring them that
God would give them the victory if they attacked hardily and persisted
resolutely.
Scarce had they entered the verge of the orchards when a din of drums
and trumpets, mingled with war-cries, was heard from the suburbs, and a
legion of Moorish warriors on foot poured forth. They were led on by
the prince Cid Hiaya. He saw the imminent danger of the city should the
Christians gain possession of the orchards. “Soldiers,” he cried,
“we fight for life and liberty, for our families, our country, our
religion;* nothing is left for us to depend upon but the strength of our
hands, the courage of our hearts, and the almighty protection of Allah.”
The Moors answered him with shouts of war and rushed to the encounter.
The two hosts met in the midst of the gardens. A chance-medley combat
ensued with lances, arquebuses, crossbows, and scimetars; the perplexed
nature of the ground, cut up and intersected by canals and streams, the
closeness of the trees, the multiplicity of towers and petty edifices,
gave greater advantages to the Moors, who were on foot, than to the
Christians, who were on horseback. The Moors, too, knew the ground,
with all its alleys and passes, and were thus enabled to lurk, to sally
forth, attack, and retreat almost without injury.
* “Illi (Mauri) pro fortunis, pro libertate, pro laribus patriis, pro
vita denique certabant.”--Pietro Martyr, “Epist. 70.”
The Christian commanders, seeing this, ordered many of the horsemen to
dismount and fight on foot. The battle then became fierce and deadly,
each disregarding his own life, provided he could slay his enemy. It was
not so much a general battle as a multitude of petty actions, for every
orchard and garden had its distinct contest. No one could see farther
than the little scene of fury and bloodshed around him, nor know how the
general battle fared. In vain the captains exerted their voices, in vain
the trumpets brayed forth signals and commands: all was confounded and
unheard in the universal din and uproar. No one kept to his standard,
but fought as his own fury or fear dictated. In some places the
Christians had the advantage, in others the Moors; often a victorious
party, pursuing the vanquished, came upon a superior and triumphant
force of the enemy, and the fugitives turned back upon them in an
overwhelming wave. Some broken remnants, in their terror and confusion,
fled from their own countrymen and sought refuge among their enemies,
not knowing friend from foe in the obscurity of the groves. The Moors
were more adroit in these wild skirmishings from their flexibility,
lightness, and agility, and the rapidity with which they would disperse,
rally, and return again to the charge.*
* Mariana, lib. 25, cap. 13.
The hardest fighting was about the small garden-towers and pavilions,
which served as so many petty fortresses. Each party by turns gained
them, defended them fiercely, and were driven out; many of the towers
were set on fire, and increased the horrors of the fight by the wreaths
of smoke and flame in which they wrapped the groves and by the shrieks
of those who were burning.
Several of the Christian cavaliers, bewildered by the uproar and
confusion and shocked at the carnage which prevailed, would have led
their men out of the action, but they were entangled in a labyrinth and
knew not which way to retreat. While in this perplexity Juan Perea, the
standard-bearer of one of the squadrons of the grand cardinal, had his
arm carried off by a cannon-ball; the standard was wellnigh falling
into the hands of the enemy, when Rodrigo de Mendoza, an intrepid youth,
natural son of the grand cardinal, rushed to its rescue through a shower
of balls, lances, and arrows, and, bearing it aloft, dashed forward with
it into the hottest of the combat, followed by his shouting soldiery.
King Ferdinand, who remained in the skirts of the orchard, was in
extreme anxiety. It was impossible to see much of the action for the
multiplicity of trees and towers and the wreaths of smoke, and those
who were driven out defeated or came out wounded and exhausted gave
different accounts, according to the fate of the partial conflicts in
which they had been engaged. Ferdinand exerted himself to the utmost
to animate and encourage his troops to this blind encounter, sending
reinforcements of horse and foot to those points where the battle was
most sanguinary and doubtful.
Among those who were brought forth mortally wounded was Don Juan de
Luna, a youth of uncommon merit, greatly prized by the king, beloved by
the army, and recently married to Dona Catalina de Urrea, a young lady
of distinguished beauty.* They laid him at the foot of a tree, and
endeavored to stanch and bind up his wounds with a scarf which his bride
had wrought for him; but his life-blood flowed too profusely, and while
a holy friar was yet administering to him the last sacred offices of the
Church, he expired, almost at the feet of his sovereign.
* Mariana, P. Martyr, Zurita.
On the other hand, the veteran alcayde Mohammed Ibn Hassan, surrounded
by a little band of chieftains, kept an anxious eye upon the scene of
combat from the walls of the city. For nearly twelve hours the battle
raged without intermission. The thickness of the foliage hid all the
particulars from their sight, but they could see the flash of swords
and glance of helmets among the trees. Columns of smoke rose in every
direction, while the clash of arms, the thundering of ribadoquines and
arquebuses, the shouts and cries of the combatants, and the groans and
supplications of the wounded bespoke the deadly conflict waging in
the bosom of the groves. They were harassed, too, by the shrieks
and lamentations of the Moorish women and children as their wounded
relatives were brought bleeding from the scene of action, and were
stunned by a general outcry of woe on the part of the inhabitants as the
body of Reduan Zafarjal, a renegado Christian and one of the bravest of
their generals, was borne breathless into the city.
At length the din of battle approached nearer to the skirts of the
orchards. They beheld their warriors driven out from among the groves
by fresh squadrons of the enemy, and, after disputing the ground inch by
inch, obliged to retire to a place between the orchards and the suburbs
which was fortified with palisadoes.
The Christians immediately planted opposing palisadoes, and established
strong outposts near to the retreat of the Moors, while at the same time
King Ferdinand ordered that his encampment should be pitched within the
hard-won orchards.
Mohammed Ibn Hassan sallied forth to the aid of the prince Cid Hiaya,
and made a desperate attempt to dislodge the enemy from this formidable
position, but the night had closed, and the darkness rendered it
impossible to make any impression. The Moors, however, kept up constant
assaults and alarms throughout the night, and the weary Christians,
exhausted by the toils and sufferings of the day, were not allowed a
moment of repose.*
* Pulgar, part 3, cap. 106, 107; Cura de los Palacios, cap. 92;
Zurita, lib. 20, cap 31.