REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES.
Panic in Granada--Muster of Troops--Mondejar takes the Field--Bold
Passage at Tablate--Retreat of the Moriscoes--Combat at
Alfajarali--Perilous March--Massacre at Jubiles--The Liberated
Christians.
1568, 1569.
As day after day brought tidings to the people of Granada of the
barbarities perpetrated in the Alpujarras, the whole city was filled
with grief and consternation. The men might be seen gathered together in
knots in the public squares; the women ran about from house to house,
telling the tale of horrors which could hardly be exaggerated in the
recital. They thronged to the churches, where the archbishop and the
clergy were all day long offering up prayers to avert the wrath of
heaven from Granada. The places of business were abandoned. The shops
and booths were closed.[55] As men called to mind the late irruption of
Aben-Farax, they were filled with apprehensions that the same thing
would be attempted again; and rumours went abroad that the mountaineers
were plotting another descent on the city, and, with the aid of their
countrymen in the Albaicin, would soon deluge the streets with the blood
of the Christians. Under the influence of these fears, some took refuge
in the fortress of the Alhambra; others fled into the country. Many kept
watch during the long night, while those who withdrew to rest started
from their slumbers at the least noise, supposing it to be the war-cry
of the Moslem, and that the enemy was at the gates.
Nor was the alarm less that was felt by the Moriscoes in the city, as it
was certainly better founded,--for the Moriscoes were the weaker party
of the two. They knew the apprehensions entertained of them by the
Christians, and that, when men have the power to relieve themselves of
their fears, they are not apt to be very scrupulous as to the means of
doing so. They were afraid to venture into the streets by day, and at
night they barricaded their houses as in a time of siege.[56] They well
knew that a single act of imprudence on their part, or even the merest
accident, might bring the Spaniards upon them, and lead to a general
massacre. They were like the traveller who sees the avalanche trembling
above him, which the least jar of elements, or his own unwary movements,
may dislodge from its slippery basis, and bring down in ruin on his
head. Thus the two races, inhabitants of the same city, were like two
hostile camps, looking on each other with watchful and malignant eyes,
and ready at any moment to come into deadly conflict.
In this stage of things the Moriscoes, anxious to allay the
apprehensions of the Spaniards, were profuse in their professions of
loyalty, and in their assurances that there was neither concert nor
sympathy between them and their countrymen in the Alpujarras. The
government, to give still greater confidence to the Christians, freely
distributed arms among them, thus enabling them, as far as possible, to
provide for their own security. The inhabitants enrolled themselves in
companies. The citizen was speedily converted into the soldier, and
every man, of whatever trade or profession,--the mechanic, the
merchant, the lawyer,--took his turn of military service. Even the
advocates, when attending the courts of justice, appeared with their
weapons by their side.[57]
[Sidenote: MUSTER OF TROOPS.]
But what contributed above all to revive the public confidence was the
care of the government to strengthen the garrison in the Alhambra by the
addition of five hundred regular troops. When, by these various means,
the marquis of Mondejar saw that tranquillity was restored to the
capital, he bestowed all his thoughts on an expedition into the
Alpujarras, desirous to crush the insurrection in its bud, and to rescue
the unfortunate captives, whose fate there excited the most dismal
apprehensions amongst their friends and relatives in Granada. He sent
forth his summons accordingly to the great lords and the cities of
Andalusia, to furnish him at once with their contingents for carrying on
the war. The feudal principle still obtained in this quarter, requiring
the several towns to do military service for their possessions, by
maintaining, when called upon, a certain number of troops in the field,
at their own expense for three months, and at the joint expense of
themselves and the government for six months longer.[58] The system
worked well enough in those ancient times, when a season rarely passed
without a foray against the Moslems. But since the fall of Granada, a
long period of inactivity had followed, and the citizen, rarely summoned
to the field, had lost all the essential attributes of the soldier. The
usual term of service was too short to supply the experience and the
discipline which he needed; and far from entering on a campaign with the
patriotic or the chivalrous feeling that gives dignity to the profession
of arms, he brought with him the mercenary spirit of a trader, intent
only on his personal gains, and eager, as soon as he had enriched
himself by a lucky foray, or the sack of some ill-fated city, to return
home, and give place to others, as inexperienced and possessed of as
little subordination as himself.[59]
But, however deficient this civic militia might be in tactics, the men
were well provided with arms and military accoutrements; and, as the
motley array of troops passed over the _vega_, they made a gallant show,
with their gay uniforms and bright weapons glancing in the sun, while
they proudly displayed the ancient banners of their cities, which had
waved over many a field of battle against the infidel.[60]
But no part of the warlike spectacle was so brilliant as that afforded
by the chivalry of the country; the nobles and cavaliers who, with their
retainers and household troops, had taken the field with as much
alacrity on the present occasion as their fathers had ever shown when
roused by the cry that the enemy was over the borders.[61] They were
much inferior in numbers to the militia of the towns. But inferiority
of numbers was more than compensated by excellence of discipline, by
their perfect appointments, and by that chivalrous feeling which made
them discard every mercenary consideration in the pursuit of glory. Such
was the feeling of Luis Paer de Castillego, the ancient regidor of
Cordova. When offered an independent command, with the emoluments
annexed to it, he proudly replied: "I want neither rank nor pay. I, my
sons, my kindred, my whole house, will always be found ready to serve
our God and our king. It is the title by which we hold our inheritance
and our patent of nobility."[62]
With such loyal and high-mettled cavaliers to support him, Mondejar
could not feel doubtful of the success of his arms. They had, however,
already met with one reverse; and he received tidings that his
advance-guard, sent to occupy a strong pass that led into the mountains,
had been driven from its position, and had sustained something like a
defeat. This would have been still more decisive, had it not been for
the courage of certain ecclesiastics, eight in number--four of them
Franciscans, and four of the Society of Jesus--who, as the troops gave
way, threw themselves into the thick of the fight, and by their example
shamed the soldiers into making a more determined resistance. The
present war took the form of a religious war; and many a valiant
churchman, armed with sword and crucifix, bore his part in it as in a
crusade.
Hastening his preparations, the captain-general, without waiting for
further reinforcements, marched out of Granada on the second of January,
1569, at the head of a small body, which did not exceed in all two
thousand foot and four hundred horse. He was speedily joined by levies
from the neighbouring towns--from Jaen, Loja, Alhama, Antequera, and
other places--which in a few days swelled his little army to double its
original size. The capital he left in the hands of his son, the count of
Tendilla; a man of less discretion than his father, of a sterner and
more impatient temper, and one who had little sympathy for the Morisco.
By his directions, the peasantry of the _vega_ were required to supply
the army with twenty thousand pounds of bread daily.[63] The additional
troops stationed in the city, as well as those who met there, as in a
place of rendezvous, on their way to the sierra, were all quartered on
the inhabitants of the Albaicin, where they freely indulged in the usual
habits of military licence. The Moriscoes still retained much of that
jealous sensibility which leads the natives of the East to seclude their
wives and daughters from the eye of the stranger. It was in vain,
however, that they urged their complaints in the most respectful and
deprecatory terms before the governor. The haughty Spaniard only
answered them with a stern rebuke, which made the Moriscoes too late
repent that they had not profited by the opportunity offered them by
Aben-Farax of regaining their independence.[64]
Leaving Granada, the captain-general took the most direct route, leading
along the western slant of the Sierra Nevada, that mountain-range which,
with its frosty peaks glistening in the sun like palisades of silver,
fences round the city on the south, and screens it in the summer from
the scorching winds of Africa. Thence he rapidly descended into the
beautiful vale of Lecrin, which spreads out, like a gay carpet
embroidered with many a wild flower, to the verge of the Alpujarras. It
was now, however, the dead of winter, when the bright colouring of the
landscape, even in this favoured region, watered as it was by numerous
fountains and running streams, had faded into the sombre tints more in
harmony with the rude scenes on which the Spaniards were about to enter.
[Sidenote: BOLD PASSAGE AT TABLATE.]
Halting a night at Padul to refresh his troops, Mondejar pressed forward
to Durcal, which he reached barely in time to save his advance-guard
from a more shameful discomfiture than it had before experienced; for
the enemy, pressing it on all sides, was in possession of the principal
avenues to the town. On the approach of the main body of the Spaniards,
however, he made a hasty retreat, and established himself in a strong
position at the pass of Tablate. The place was defended by a _barranca_,
or ravine, not formidable from its width, but its rocky side swept sheer
down to a depth that made the brain of the traveller giddy as he looked
into the frightful abyss. The chasm extended at least eight leagues in
length, thus serving, like a gigantic ditch scooped out by the hand of
Nature, to afford protection to the beautiful valley against the inroads
of the fierce tribes of the mountains.
Across this gulf a frail wooden bridge had been constructed, forming the
only means of access from this quarter to the country of the Alpujarras.
But this structure was now nearly demolished by the Moriscoes, who had
taken up the floor, and removed most of the supports, till the passage
of the tottering fabric could not safely be attempted by a single
individual, much less by an army.[65] That they did not destroy the
bridge altogether, probably arose from their desire to re-establish as
soon as possible their communications with their countrymen in the
valley.
Meanwhile the Moslems had taken up a position which commanded the
farther end of the bridge, where they calmly awaited the approach of the
Spaniards. Their army, which greatly fluctuated in its numbers at
different periods of the campaign, was a miscellaneous body, ill
disciplined and worse armed. Some of the men carried fire-arms, some
crossbows; others had only slings or javelins, or even sharp-pointed
stakes; any weapon, in short, however rude, which they had contrived to
secrete from the Spanish officials charged with enforcing the laws for
disarming the Moriscoes. But they were a bold and independent race,
inured to a life of peril and privation; and, however inferior to the
Christians in other respects, they had one obvious advantage, in their
familiarity with the mountain wilds in which they had been nurtured from
infancy.
As the Spaniards approached the ravine, they were saluted by the enemy,
from the other side, with a shower of balls, stones, and arrows, which,
falling at random, did little mischief. But as soon as the columns of
the Christians reached the brow of the _barranca_, and formed into line,
they opened a much more effective fire on their adversaries; and when
the heavy guns with which Mendoza was provided were got into position,
they did such execution on the enemy that he thought it prudent to
abandon the bridge, and take post behind a rising ground, which screened
him from the fire.
All thoughts were now turned on the mode of crossing the ravine; and
many a look of blank dismay was turned on the dilapidated bridge, which,
like a spider's web, trembling in every breeze, was stretched across the
formidable chasm. No one was bold enough to venture on this pass of
peril. At length a Franciscan monk, named Christoval de Molina, offered
himself for the emprise. It was again an ecclesiastic who was to lead
the way in the path of danger. Slinging his shield across his back, with
his robe tucked closely around him, grasping a crucifix in his left
hand, and with his right brandishing his sword, the valiant friar set
his foot upon the bridge.[66] All eyes were fastened upon him, as,
invoking the name of Jesus, he went courageously but cautiously forward,
picking his way along the skeleton fabric, which trembled under his
weight, as if about to fall in pieces and precipitate him into the gulf
below. But he was not so to perish; and his safe arrival on the farther
side was greeted with the shouts of the soldiery, who, ashamed of their
hesitation, now pressed forward to follow in his footsteps.
The first who ventured had the same good fortune as his predecessor. The
second, missing his step or becoming dizzy, lost his foothold, and,
tumbling headlong, was dashed to pieces on the bottom of the ravine. One
after another, the soldiers followed, and with fewer casualties than
might have been expected from the perilous nature of the passage. During
all this time they experienced no molestation from the enemy,
intimidated, perhaps, by the unexpected audacity of the Spaniards, and
not caring to come within the range of the deadly fire of their
artillery. No sooner had the arquebusiers crossed in sufficient
strength, than Mondejar, putting himself at their head, led them against
the Moslems. He was received with a spirited volley, which had well-nigh
proved fatal to him; and had it not been for his good cuirass, that
turned the ball of an arquebuse, his campaign would have been brought to
a close at its commencement. The skirmish lasted but a short time, as
the Moriscoes, already disheartened by the success of the assailants, or
in obedience to the plan of operations marked out by their leader,
abandoned their position, and drew off rapidly towards the mountains. It
was the intention of Aben-Humeya, as already noticed, to entangle his
enemies in the defiles of the sierra, where, independently of the
advantage he possessed from a knowledge of the country, the rugged
character of the ground, he conceived, would make it impracticable for
both cavalry and artillery, with neither of which he was provided.[67]
The Spanish commander, resuming his former station, employed the night
in restoring the bridge, on which his men laboured to such purpose, that
by morning it was in a condition for both his horse and his heavy guns
to cross in safety. Meanwhile he received tidings that a body of a
hundred and eighty Spaniards, in the neighbouring town of Orgiba, who
had thrown themselves into the tower of the church on the breaking out
of the insurrection, were still holding their position, and anxiously
looking for succour from their countrymen. Pushing forward, therefore,
without loss of time, he resumed his march across the valley, which was
here defended on either side by rugged hills, that, growing bolder as he
advanced, announced his entrance into the gorges of the Alpujarras. The
weather was tempestuous. The roads were rendered worse than usual by the
heavy rains, and by the torrents that descended from the hills. The
Spaniards, moreover, suffered much from straggling parties of the enemy,
who had possession of the heights, whence they rolled down huge rocks,
and hurled missiles of every kind on the heads of the invaders. To rid
himself of this annoyance, Mondejar ordered detachments of horse--one of
them under the command of his son, Don Antonio de Mendoza--to scour the
crests of the hills and dislodge the skirmishers. Pioneers were sent in
advance, to level the ground and render it practicable for cavalry. The
service was admirably performed; and the mountaineers, little acquainted
with the horse, which they seemed to have held in as much terror as did
the ancient Mexicans, were so astounded by seeing the light-footed
Andalusian steed scaling the rough sides of the sierra, along paths
where the sportsman would hardly venture, that, without waiting for the
charge, they speedily quitted the ground and fell back on the main body
of their army.
[Sidenote: RETREAT OF THE MORISCOES.]
This was posted at Lanjaron, a place but a few miles off, where the
Moriscoes had profited by a gentle eminence that commanded a narrow
defile, to throw up a breastwork of stone and earth, behind which they
were entrenched, prepared, as it would seem, to give battle to the
Spaniards.
The daylight had begun to fade, as the latter drew near the enemy's
encampment; and, as he was unacquainted with the ground, Mondejar
resolved to postpone his attack till the following morning. The night
set in dark and threatening. But a hundred watchfires blazing on the
hill-tops illumined the sky, and sent a feeble radiance into the gloom
of the valley. All night long the wild notes of the musical instruments
peculiar to the Moors, mingling with their shrill war-cries, sounded in
the ears of the Christians, keeping them under arms, and apprehensive
every moment of an attack.[68] But a night attack was contrary to the
usual tactics of the Moors. Nor, as it appeared, did they intend to join
battle with the Spaniards at all in this place. At least, if such had
been their design, they changed it. For at break of day, to the surprise
of the Spaniards, no vestige was to be seen of the Moriscoes, who,
abandoning their position, had taken flight, like their own birds of
prey, into the depths of the mountains.
Mondejar, not sorry to be spared the delay which an encounter must have
caused him at a time when every moment was so precious, now rapidly
pushed forward to Orgiba, where he happily arrived in season to relieve
the garrison, reduced almost to the last extremity, and to put to flight
the rabble who besieged it.
In the fulness of their hearts, and with the tears streaming from their
eyes, the poor prisoners came forth from their fortress to embrace the
deliverers who had rescued them from the most terrible of deaths. Their
apprehensions of such a fate had alone nerved their souls to so long and
heroic a resistance. Yet they must have sunk ere this from famine, had
it not been for their politic precaution of taking with them into the
tower several of the Morisco children whose parents secretly supplied
them with food, which served as the means of subsistence--scanty though
it was--for the garrison. But as the latter came forth into view, their
wasted forms and famine-stricken visages told a tale of woe that would
have softened a heart of flint.[69]
The situation of Orgiba pointed it out as suitable for a fortified post,
to cover the retreat of the army, if necessary, and to protect the
convoys of supplies to be regularly forwarded from Granada. Leaving a
small garrison there, the captain-general, without longer delay, resumed
his pursuit of the enemy.
Aben-Humeya had retreated into Poqueira, a rugged district of the
Alpujarras. Here he had posted himself, with an army amounting to more
than double its former numbers, at the extremity of a dangerous defile,
called the Pass of Alfajarali. Behind lay the town of Bubion, the
capital of the district, in which, considering it as a place of safety,
many of the wealthier Moriscoes had deposited their women and their
treasures.
Mondejar's line of march now took him into the heart of the wildest
regions of the Alpujarras, where the scenery assumed a character of
sublimity very different from what he had met with in the lower levels
of the country. Here mountain rose beyond mountain, till their hoary
heads, soaring above the clouds, entered far into the region of eternal
snow. The scene was as gloomy as it was grand. Instead of the
wide-spreading woods that usually hang round the skirts of lofty
mountains, covering up their nakedness from the eye, nothing here was to
be seen but masses of shattered rock, black as if scathed by volcanic
fires, and heaped one upon another in a sort of wild confusion, as if
some tremendous convulsion of nature had torn the hills from their
foundations, and thrown them into primitive chaos. Yet the industry of
the Moriscoes had contrived to relieve the savage features of the
landscape, by scooping out terraces wherever the rocky soil allowed it,
and raising there the vine and other plants, in bright patches of
variegated culture, that hung like a garland round the gaunt and swarthy
sierra.
The temperature was now greatly changed from what the army had
experienced in the valley. The wind, sweeping down the icy sides of the
mountains, found its way through the harness of the cavaliers and the
light covering of the soldiers, benumbing their limbs, and piercing them
to the very bone. Great difficulty was experienced in dragging the
cannon up the steep heights, and along roads and passes, which, however
easily traversed by the light-footed mountaineer, were but ill suited to
the movements of an army clad in the heavy panoply of war.
The march was conducted in perfect order, the arquebusiers occupying the
van, and the cavalry riding on either flank, while detachments of
infantry, the main body of which occupied the centre, were thrown out to
the right and left, on the higher grounds along the route of the army,
to save it from annoyance from the mountaineers.
On the thirteenth of January, Mondejar entered the narrow defile of
Alfajarali, at the farther end of which the motley multitude that had
gathered round the standard of Aben-Humeya were already drawn up in
battle-array. His right wing rested on the bold side of the sierra; the
left was defended by a deep ravine, and his position was strengthened by
more than one ambuscade, for which the nature of the ground was
eminently favourable.[70] Indeed, ambushes and surprises formed part of
the regular strategy of the Moorish warrior, who lost heart if he failed
in these,--like the lion, who, if balked in the first spring upon his
prey, is said rarely to attempt another.
[Sidenote: COMBAT AT ALFAJARALI.]
Putting these wily tactics into practice, the Morisco chief, as soon as
the Spaniards were fairly entangled in the defile, without waiting for
them to come into order of battle, gave the signal; and his men,
starting up from glen, thicket, and ravine, or bursting down the
hill-sides like their own winter-torrents, fell at once on the
Christians,--front, flank, and rear,--assailing them on every
quarter.[71] Astounded by the fiery suddenness of the assault, the
rear-guard retreated on the centre, while the arquebusiers in the van
were thrown into still greater disorder. For a few moments it seemed as
if the panic would become general. But the voice of the leader was heard
above the tumult, and by his prompt and sagacious measures he
fortunately succeeded in restoring order, and reviving the confidence of
his men. He detached one body of cavalry, under his son-in-law, to the
support of the rear, and another to the front under the command of his
son, Antonio de Mendoza. Both executed their commissions with spirit;
and Mendoza, outstripping his companions in the haste with which he
galloped to the front, threw himself into the thickest of the fight,
where he was struck from his horse by a heavy stone, and was speedily
surrounded by the enemy, from whose grasp he was with difficulty, and
not till after much hard fighting, rescued by his companions. His
friend, Don Alonso Portocarrero, the scion of a noble house in
Andalusia, whose sons had always claimed the front of battle against the
infidel, was twice wounded by poisoned arrows; for the Moors of the
Alpujarras tipped their weapons with a deadly poison distilled from a
weed that grew wild among the mountains.[72]
A fierce struggle now ensued; for the Morisco was spurred on by hate and
the recollection of a thousand wrongs. Ill provided with weapons for
attack, and destitute of defensive armour, he exposed himself to the
hottest of his enemy's fire, and endeavoured to drag the horsemen from
their saddles, while stones and arrows, with which some musket-balls
were intermingled, fell like rain on the well-tempered harness of the
Andalusian knights. The latter, now fully roused, plunged boldly into
the thickest of the Moorish multitude, trampling them under foot, and
hewing them down, right and left, with their sharp blades. The
arquebusiers, at the same time, delivered a well-directed fire on the
flank of the Moriscoes, who, after a brave struggle of an hour's
duration, in which they were baffled on every quarter, quitted the
field, covered with their slain, as precipitately as they had entered
it, and, vanishing among the mountains, were soon far beyond
pursuit.[73]
From the field of battle Mondejar marched at once upon Bubion, the
capital of the district, and now left wholly unprotected by the Moslems.
Yet many of their wives and daughters remained in it; and what rejoiced
the heart of Mondejar more than all, was the liberation of a hundred and
eighty Christian women, who came forth, frantic with joy and gratitude,
to embrace the knees of their deliverers. They had many a tale of horror
to tell their countrymen, who had now rescued them from a fate worse
than that of death itself; for arrangements had been made, it was said,
to send away those whose persons offered the greatest attractions, to
swell the harems of the fierce Barbary princes in alliance with the
Moriscoes. The town afforded a rich booty to the victorious troops, in
gold, silver, and jewels, together with the finest stuffs, especially of
silk, for the manufacture of which the people of the country were
celebrated. As the Spanish commander, unwilling to be encumbered with
unnecessary baggage, had made no provision for transporting the more
bulky articles, the greater part of them, in the usual exterminating
spirit of war, was consigned to the flames.[74] The soldiers would
willingly have appropriated to themselves the Moorish women whom they
found in the place, regarding them us the spoils of victory; but the
marquis, greatly to the disgust of his followers, humanely interfered
for their protection.
Mondejar now learned that Aben-Humeya, gathering the wreck of his forces
about him, had taken the route to Jubiles,--a place situated in the
wildest part of the country, where there was a fortress of much
strength, in which he proposed to make a final stand against his
enemies. Desirous to follow up the blow before the enemy had time to
recover from its effects, Mondejar resumed his march. He had not
advanced many leagues before he reached Pitres, the principal town in
the district of Ferreiras. It was a place of some importance, and was
rich in the commodities usually found in the great Moorish towns, where
the more wealthy of the inhabitants rivalled their brethren of Granada
in their taste for sumptuous dress and in the costly decorations of
their houses.
The conquerors had here the satisfaction of releasing a hundred and
fifty of their poor countrywomen from the captivity in which they had
been held, after witnessing the massacre of their friends and relatives.
The place was given up to pillage; but the marquis, true to his
principles, notwithstanding the murmurs, and even menaces, of his
soldiers, would allow no injury to be done to the Moorish women who
remained in it. In this he acted in obedience to the dictates of sound
policy, no less than of humanity, which indeed, happily for mankind, can
never be dissevered from each other. He had no desire to push the war to
extremities, or to exterminate a race whose ingenuity and industry were
a fruitful source of revenue to the country. He wished, therefore, to
leave the door of reconciliation still open; and while he carried fire
and sword into the enemy's territory, he held out the prospect of grace
to those who were willing to submit and return to their allegiance.
The route of the army lay through a wild and desolate region, which,
from its great elevation, was cool even in midsummer, and which now, in
the month of January, wore the dreary aspect of a polar winter. The
snow, which never melted on the highest peaks of the mountains, lay
heavily on their broad shoulders, and, sweeping far down their sides,
covered up the path of the Spaniards. It was with no little difficulty
that they could find a practicable passage, especially for the train of
heavy guns, which were dragged along with incredible toil by the united
efforts of men and horses. The soldiers, born and bred in the sunny
plains of Andalusia, were but ill provided against an intensity of cold
of which they had never formed a conception. The hands and feet of many
were frozen. Others, benumbed, and exhausted by excessive toil,
straggled in the rear, and sunk down in the snow-drifts, or disappeared
in the treacherous ravines and crevices, which, under their glittering
mantle, lay concealed from the eye. It fared still worse with the
Moriscoes, especially with the women and children, who, after hanging on
the skirts of the retreating army, had, the better to elude pursuit,
scaled the more inaccessible parts of the mountains, where, taking
refuge in caverns, they perished, in great numbers, of cold and
hunger.[75]
Meanwhile Aben-Humeya, disheartened by his late reverses, felt too
little confidence in the strength of his present position to abide there
the assault of the Spaniards. Quitting the place, therefore, and taking
with him his women and effects, he directed his course by rapid marches
towards Paterna, his principal residence, which had the advantage, by
its neighbourhood to the Sierra Nevada, of affording him, if necessary,
the means of escaping into its wild and mysterious recesses, where none
but a native would care to follow him. He left in the castle of Jubiles
a great number of Morisco women, who had accompanied the army in its
retreat, and three hundred men, who, from age or infirmity, would be
likely to embarrass his movements.
[Sidenote: MASSACRE AT JUBILES.]
On reaching Jubiles, therefore, the Spanish general met with no
resistance from the helpless garrison who occupied the fortress, which,
moreover, contained a rich booty in gold, pearls, and precious stones,
to gratify the cupidity of the soldiers.[76] Yet their discontent was
expressed in more audacious terms than usual at the protection afforded
by their commander to the Morisco women, of whom there were more than
two thousand in the place. Among the women found there was also a good
number of Christian captives, who roused the fierce passions of their
countrymen by their piteous recital of the horrors they had witnessed,
of the butchery of fathers, husbands, and brothers, and of the
persecutions to which they had themselves been subjected in order to
convert them to Islamism. They besought the captain-general to take pity
on their sufferings, and to avenge their wrongs by putting every man and
woman found in the place to the sword.[77] It is evident that, however
prepared they may have been to accept the crown of martyrdom rather than
abjure their faith, they gave little heed to the noblest of its
precepts, which enjoined the forgiveness of their enemies. In this
respect Mondejar proved himself decidedly the better Christian; for
while he listened with commiseration to their tale of woe, and did all
he could to comfort them in their affliction,[78] he would not abandon
the protection of his captives, male or female, nor resign them to the
brutality of his soldiers.
He provided for their safety during the night by allowing them to occupy
the church. But as this would not accommodate more than a thousand
persons, the remainder, including all the men, were quartered in an open
square in the neighbourhood of the building. The Spanish troops encamped
at no great distance from the spot.
In the course of the night one of the soldiers found his way into the
quarters of the captives, and attempted to take some freedoms with a
Morisco maiden. It so happened that her lover, disguised in woman's
attire, was at her side, having remained with her for her protection.
His Moorish blood fired at the insult, and he resented it by striking
his poniard into the body of the Spaniard. The cry of the latter soon
roused his comrades. Rushing to the place, they fell on the young
Morisco, who, now brandishing a sword which he had snatched from the
disabled man, laid about him so valiantly that several others were
wounded. The cry rose that there were armed men, disguised as women,
among the prisoners. More soldiers poured in to the support of their
comrades, and fell with fury on their helpless victims. The uproar was
universal. On the one side might be heard moans and petitions for mercy;
on the other, brutal imprecations, followed by deadly blows, that showed
how little prayers for mercy had availed. The hearts of the soldiers
were harder than the steel with which they struck; for they called to
mind the cruelties inflicted on their own countrymen by the Moriscoes.
Striking to the right and left, they hewed down men and women
indiscriminately,--both equally defenceless. In their blind fury they
even wounded one another; for it was not easy to discern friend from foe
in the obscurity, in which little light was to be had, says the
chronicler, except such as came from the sparks of clashing steel or the
flash of fire-arms.[79] It was in vain that the officers endeavoured to
call off the men from their work of butchery. The hot temper of the
Andalusian was fully roused; and it would have been as easy to stop the
explosion of the mine when the train has been fired, as to stay his
fury. It was not till the morning light showed the pavement swimming in
gore, and the corpses of the helpless victims lying in heaps on one
another, that his appetite for blood was satisfied. Great numbers of the
women, and nearly all the men, perished in this massacre.[80] Those in
the church succeeded in making fast the doors, and thus excluding their
enemies, who made repeated efforts to enter the building. The marquis of
Mondejar, indignant at this inhuman outrage perpetrated by his
followers, and at their flagrant disobedience of orders, caused an
inquiry into the affair to be instantly made; and the execution of three
of the most guilty proved a salutary warning to the Andalusian soldier
that there were limits beyond which it was not safe to try the patience
of his commander.[81]
Before leaving Jubiles, Mondejar sent off to Granada, under a strong
escort, the Christian captives who, since their liberation, had remained
with the army. There were eight hundred of them, women and children,--a
helpless multitude, whose wants were to be provided for, and whose
presence could not fail greatly to embarrass his movements. They were
obliged to perform that long and wearisome journey across the mountains
on foot, as there were no means of transportation. And piteous was the
spectacle which they presented when they reached the capital. As the
wayworn wanderers entered by the gate of Bib-arranbla, the citizens came
forth in crowds to welcome them. A body of cavalry was in the van,--each
of the troopers holding one or two children on the saddle before him,
with sometimes a third on the crupper clinging to his back. The infantry
brought up the rear; while the centre of the procession was occupied by
the women,--a forlorn and melancholy band, with their heads undefended
by any covering from the weather; their hair, bleached by the winter's
tempests, streaming wildly over their shoulders; their clothes scanty,
tattered, and soiled with travel; without stockings, without shoes, to
protect their feet against the cold and flinty roads; while in the lines
traced upon their countenances the dullest eye might read the story of
their unparalleled sufferings. Many of the company were persons who,
unaccustomed to toil, and delicately nurtured, were but poorly prepared
for the trials and privations of every kind to which they had been
subjected.[82]
[Sidenote: SITUATION OF ABEN-HUMEYA.]
As their friends and countrymen gathered round them, to testify their
sympathy and listen to the story of their misfortunes, the voices of the
poor wanderers were choked with sobs and lamentations. The grief was
contagious; and the sorrowing and sympathetic multitude accompanied the
procession like a train of mourners to the monastery of Our Lady of
Victory, in the opposite quarter of the city, where services were
performed with much solemnity, and thanks were offered up for their
deliverance from captivity. From the church they proceeded to the
Alhambra, where they were graciously received by the marchioness of
Mondejar, the wife of the captain-general, who did what she could to
alleviate the miseries of their condition. Those who had friends and
relations in the city, found shelter in their houses; while the rest
were kindly welcomed by the archbishop of Granada, and by the
charitable people of the town, who provided them with raiment and
whatever was necessary for their comfort.[83] The stories which the
fugitives had to tell of the horrid scenes they had witnessed in the
Alpujarras, roused a deeper feeling of hatred in the Spaniards towards
the Moriscoes, that boded ill for the security of the inhabitants of the
Albaicin.