HOW FERDINAND TURNED HIS HOSTILITIES AGAINST THE CITY OF GRANADA.
When King Ferdinand received the defiance of the Moors, he made
preparations for bitter hostilities. The winter season did not admit of
an immediate campaign; he contented himself, therefore, with throwing
strong garrisons into all his towns and fortresses in the neighborhood
of Granada, and gave the command of all the frontier of Jaen to Inigo
Lopez de Mendoza, count of Tendilla, who had shown such consummate
vigilance and address in maintaining the dangerous post of Alhama. This
renowned veteran established his head-quarters in the mountain-city
of Alcala la Real, within eight leagues of the city of Granada and
commanding the most important passes of that rugged frontier.
In the mean time, Granada resounded with the stir of war. The chivalry
of the nation had again control of its councils, and the populace,
having once more resumed their weapons, were anxious to wipe out the
disgrace of their late passive submission by signal and daring exploits.
Muza Abul Gazan was the soul of action. He commanded the cavalry, which
he had disciplined with uncommon skill; he was surrounded by the noblest
youths of Granada, who had caught his own generous and martial fire and
panted for the field, while the common soldiers, devoted to his person,
were ready to follow him in the most desperate enterprises. He did not
allow their courage to cool for want of action. The gates of Granada
once more poured forth legions of light scouring cavalry, which skirred
the country up to the very gates of the Christian fortresses, sweeping
off flocks and herds. The name of Muza became formidable throughout the
frontier; he had many encounters with the enemy in the rough passes
of the mountains, in which the superior lightness and dexterity of
his cavalry gave him the advantage. The sight of his glistening legion
returning across the Vega with long cavalgadas of booty was hailed by
the Moors as a revival of their ancient triumphs; but when they beheld
Christian banners borne into their gates as trophies, the exultation of
the light-minded populace was beyond all bounds.
The winter passed away, the spring advanced, yet Ferdinand delayed
to take the field. He knew the city of Granada to be too strong and
populous to be taken by assault, and too full of provisions to be
speedily reduced by siege. “We must have patience and perseverance,”
said the politic monarch; “by ravaging the country this year we shall
produce a scarcity the next, and then the city may be invested with
effect.”
An interval of peace, aided by the quick vegetation of a prolific soil
and happy climate, had restored the Vega to all its luxuriance and
beauty; the green pastures on the borders of the Xenil were covered with
flocks and herds; the blooming orchards gave promise of abundant fruit,
and the open plain was waving with ripening corn. The time was at
hand to put in the sickle and reap the golden harvest, when suddenly
a torrent of war came sweeping down from the mountains, and Ferdinand,
with an army of five thousand horse and twenty thousand foot, appeared
before the walls of Granada. He had left the queen and princess at the
fortress of Moclin, and came attended by the duke of Medina Sidonia, the
marques of Cadiz, the marques de Villena, the counts of Urena and Cabra,
Don Alonso de Aguilar, and other renowned cavaliers. On this occasion
he for the first time led his son, Prince Juan, into the field, and
bestowed upon him the dignity of knighthood. As if to stimulate him to
grand achievements, the ceremony took place on the banks of the grand
canal almost beneath the embattled walls of that warlike city, the
object of such daring enterprises, and in the midst of that famous Vega,
the field of so many chivalrous exploits. Above them shone resplendent
the red towers of the Alhambra, rising from amidst delicious groves,
with the standard of Mahomet waving defiance to the Christian arms.
The duke of Medina Sidonia and Roderigo Ponce de Leon, marques of Cadiz,
were sponsors, and all the chivalry of the camp was assembled on the
occasion. The prince, after he was knighted, bestowed the same honor on
several youthful cavaliers of high rank, just entering, like himself, on
the career of arms.
Ferdinand did not loiter in carrying his desolating plans into
execution. He detached parties in every direction to lay waste the
country: villages were sacked, burnt, and destroyed, and the lovely Vega
was once more laid waste with fire and sword. The ravage was carried so
close to Granada that the city was wrapped in the smoke of its gardens
and hamlets. The dismal cloud rolled up the hill and hung about the
towers of the Alhambra, where the unfortunate Boabdil still remained
shut up from the indignation of his subjects. The hapless monarch smote
his breast as he looked down from his mountain-palace on the desolation
effected by his late ally. He dared not even show himself in arms among
the populace, for they cursed him as the cause of the miseries once more
brought to their doors.
The Moors, however, did not suffer the Christians to carry on their
ravages unmolested, as in former years. Muza incited them to incessant
sallies. He divided his cavalry into small squadrons, each led by a
daring commander. They were taught to hover round the Christian camp;
to harass it from various and opposite quarters, cutting off convoys and
straggling detachments; to waylay the army in its ravaging expeditions,
lurking among rocks and passes of the mountains or in hollows and
thickets of the plain, and practising a thousand stratagems and
surprises.
The Christian army had one day spread itself out rather unguardedly in
its foraging about the Vega. As the troops commanded by the marques of
Villena approached the skirts of the mountains, they beheld a number of
Moorish peasants hastily driving a herd of cattle into a narrow glen.
The soldiers, eager for booty, pressed in pursuit of them. Scarcely had
they entered the glen when shouts arose from every side, and they
were furiously attacked by an ambuscade of horse and foot. Some of
the Christians took to flight; others stood their ground and fought
valiantly. The Moors had the vantage-ground; some showered darts and
arrows from the cliffs of the rocks, others fought hand to hand on the
plain, while their cavalry carried havoc and confusion into the midst of
the Christian forces.
The marques de Villena, with his brother, Don Alonso de Pacheco, at the
first onset of the Moors spurred into the hottest of the fight. They had
scarce entered when Don Alonso was struck lifeless from his horse before
the eyes of his brother. Estevan Luzon, a gallant captain, fell fighting
bravely by the side of the marques, who remained, with his chamberlain
Soler and a handful of knights, surrounded by the enemy. Several
cavaliers from other parts of the army hastened to their assistance,
when King Ferdinand, seeing that the Moors had the vantage-ground and
that the Christians were suffering severely, gave signal for retreat.
The marques obeyed slowly and reluctantly, for his heart was full of
grief and rage at the death of his brother. As he was retiring he beheld
his faithful chamberlain Soler defending himself valiantly against six
Moors. The marques turned and rushed to his rescue; he killed two of the
enemy with his own hand and put the rest to flight. One of the Moors,
however, in retreating, rose in his stirrups, and, hurling his lance at
the marques, wounded him in the right arm and crippled him for life.*
* In consequence of this wound the marques was ever after obliged
to write his signature with his left hand, though capable of managing
his lance with his right. The queen one day demanded of him why he
had adventured his life for that of a domestic? “Does not Your Majesty
think,” replied he, “that I ought to risk one life for him who would
have adventured three for me had he possessed them?” The queen was
charmed with the magnanimity of the reply, and often quoted the marques
as setting an heroic example to the chivalry of the age.--Mariana, lib.
25, c. 15.
Such was one of the many ambuscadoes concerted by Muza; nor did he
hesitate at times to present a bold front to the Christian forces and
defy them in the open field. Ferdinand soon perceived, however, that
the Moors seldom provoked a battle without having the advantage of the
ground, and that, though the Christians generally appeared to have the
victory, they suffered the greatest loss; for retreating was a part
of the Moorish system by which they would draw their pursuers into
confusion, and then turn upon them with a more violent and fatal attack.
He commanded his captains, therefore, to decline all challenges to
skirmish, and pursue a secure system of destruction, ravaging the
country and doing all possible injury to the enemy with slight risk to
themselves.