CONTINUATION OF THE SIEGE OF BAZA.
The Moorish king, El Zagal, mounted a tower and looked out eagerly to
enjoy the sight of the Christian marauders brought captive into the
gates of Guadix, but his spirits fell when he beheld his own troops
stealing back in the dusk of the evening in broken and dejected parties.
The fortune of war bore hard against the old monarch; his mind was
harassed by disastrous tidings brought each day from Baza, of the
sufferings of the inhabitants, and the numbers of the garrison slain in
the frequent skirmishes. He dared not go in person to the relief of the
place, for his presence was necessary in Guadix to keep a check upon his
nephew in Granada. He sent reinforcements and supplies, but they were
intercepted and either captured or driven back. Still, his situation
was in some respects preferable to that of his nephew Boabdil. He
was battling like a warrior on the last step of his throne; El Chico
remained a kind of pensioned vassal in the luxurious abode of the
Alhambra. The chivalrous part of the inhabitants of Granada could not
but compare the generous stand made by the warriors of Baza for their
country and their faith with their own time-serving submission to the
yoke of an unbeliever. Every account they received of the woes of Baza
wrung their hearts with agony; every account of the exploits of its
devoted defenders brought blushes to their cheeks. Many stole forth
secretly with their weapons and hastened to join the besieged, and the
partisans of El Zagal wrought upon the patriotism and passions of the
remainder until another of those conspiracies was formed that were
continually menacing the unsteady throne of Granada. It was concerted
by the conspirators to assail the Alhambra on a sudden, slay Boabdil,
assemble the troops, and march to Guadix, where, being reinforced by the
garrison of that place and led on by the old warrior monarch, they might
fall with overwhelming power upon the Christian army before Baza.
Fortunately for Boabdil, he discovered the conspiracy in time, and the
heads of the leaders were struck off and placed upon the walls of
the Alhambra--an act of severity unusual with this mild and wavering
monarch, which struck terror into the disaffected, and produced a kind
of mute tranquillity throughout the city.
Ferdinand had full information of all the movements and measures for the
relief of Baza, and took precautions to prevent them. Bodies of horsemen
held watch in the mountain-passes to prevent supplies and intercept
any generous volunteers from Granada, and watch-towers were erected or
scouts placed on every commanding height to give the alarm at the least
sign of a hostile turban.
The prince Cid Hiaya and his brave companions-in-arms were thus
gradually walled up, as it were, from the rest of the world. A line
of towers, the battlements of which bristled with troops, girded their
city, and behind the intervening bulwarks and palisadoes passed and
repassed continual squadrons of troops. Week after week and month after
month passed away, but Ferdinand waited in vain for the garrison to be
either terrified or starved into surrender. Every day they sallied
forth with the spirit and alacrity of troops high fed and flushed with
confidence. “The Christian monarch,” said the veteran Mohammed Ibn
Hassan, “builds his hopes upon our growing faint and desponding--we must
manifest unusual cheerfulness and vigor. What would be rashness in other
service becomes prudence with us.” The prince Cid Hiaya agreed with
him in opinion, and sallied forth with his troops upon all kinds of
hare-brained exploits. They laid ambushes, concerted surprises, and made
the most desperate assaults. The great extent of the Christian works
rendered them weak in many parts: against these the Moors directed their
attacks, suddenly breaking into them, making a hasty ravage, and bearing
off their booty in triumph to the city. Sometimes they would sally forth
by passes and clefts of the mountain in the rear of the city which it
was difficult to guard, and, hurrying down into the plain, sweep off all
cattle and sheep that were grazing near the suburbs and all stragglers
from the camp.
These partisan sallies brought on many sharp and bloody encounters,
in some of which Don Alonso de Aguilar and the alcayde de los Donceles
distinguished themselves greatly. During one of these hot skirmishes,
which happened on the skirts of the mountain about twilight, a cavalier
named Martin Galindo beheld a powerful Moor dealing deadly blows about
him and making great havoc among the Christians. Galindo pressed forward
and challenged him to single combat. The Moor was not slow in answering
the call.
Couching their lances, they rushed furiously upon each other. At the
first shock the Moor was wounded in the face and borne out of his
saddle. Before Galindo could check his steed and turn from his career
the Moor sprang upon his feet, recovered his lance, and, rushing
upon him, wounded him in the head and the arm. Though Galindo was on
horseback and the Moor on foot, yet such was the prowess and address of
the latter that the Christian knight, being disabled in the arm, was in
the utmost peril when his comrades hastened to his assistance. At their
approach the valiant pagan retreated slowly up the rocks, keeping them
at bay until he found himself among his companions.
Several of the young Spanish cavaliers, stung by the triumph of this
Moslem knight, would have challenged others of the Moors to single
combat, but King Ferdinand prohibited all vaunting encounters of the
kind. He forbade his troops also to provoke skirmishes, well knowing
that the Moors were more dextrous than most people in this irregular
mode of fighting, and were better acquainted with the ground.