Of the Stout Prior Ferran Ruyz, and how he rescued his Cattle from
the Moors.—Further Enterprises of the Prior, and of the Ambuscade
into which he Fell.
It happened one day that a great part of the cavaliers of the army
were absent, some making cavalgadas about the country, others
guarding the foragers, and others gone to receive the Prince Alfonso,
who was on his way to the camp from Murcia. At this time ten Moorish
cavaliers, of the brave lineage of the Azules, finding the Christian
camp but thinly peopled, came prowling about, seeking where they
might make a bold inroad. As they were on the lookout they came to
that part of the camp where were the tents of the stout Friar Ferran
Ruyz, prior of the hospital. The stout prior, and his fighting
brethren, were as good at foraging as fighting. Around their quarters
there were several sleek cows grazing, which they had carried off
from the Moors. When the Azules saw these, they thought to make a
good prize, and to bear off the prior’s cattle as a trophy. Careering
lightly round, therefore, between the cattle and the camp, they began
to drive them towards the city. The alarm was given in the camp,
and six sturdy friars sallied forth, on foot, with two cavaliers,
in pursuit of the marauders. The prior himself was roused by the
noise; when he heard that the beeves of the Church were in danger
his ire was kindled; and buckling on his armor, he mounted his steed
and galloped furiously to the aid of his valiant friars, and the
rescue of his cattle. The Moors attempted to urge on the lagging
and full-fed kine, but finding the enemy close upon them, they were
obliged to abandon their spoil among the olive-trees, and to retreat.
The prior then gave the cattle in charge to a squire, to drive them
back to the camp. He would have returned himself, but his friars had
continued on for some distance. The stout prior, therefore, gave
spurs to his horse and galloped beyond them, to turn them back.
Suddenly great shouts and cries arose before and behind him, and
an ambuscade of Moors, both horse and foot, came rushing out of a
ravine. The stout Prior of San Juan saw that there was no retreat;
and he disdained to render himself a prisoner. Commending himself to
his patron saint, and bracing his shield, he charged bravely among
the Moors, and began to lay about him with a holy zeal of spirit
and a vigorous arm of flesh. Every blow that he gave was in the
name of San Juan, and every blow laid an infidel in the dust. His
friars, seeing the peril of their leader, came running to his aid,
accompanied by a number of cavaliers. They rushed into the fight,
shouting, “San Juan! San Juan!” and began to deal such sturdy blows
as savored more of the camp than of the cloister. Great and fierce
was this struggle between cowl and turban. The ground was strewn
with bodies of the infidels; but the Christians were a mere handful
among a multitude. A burly friar, commander of Sietefilla, was struck
to the earth, and his shaven head cleft by a blow of a scimetar;
several squires and cavaliers, to the number of twenty, fell covered
with wounds; yet still the stout prior and his brethren continued
fighting with desperate fury, shouting incessantly, “San Juan! San
Juan!” and dealing their blows with as good heart as they had ever
dealt benedictions on their followers.
The noise of this skirmish, and the holy shouts of the fighting
friars, resounded through the camp. The alarm was given, “The Prior
of San Juan is surrounded by the enemy! To the rescue! to the
rescue!” The whole Christian host was in agitation, but none were so
alert as those holy warriors of the Church, Don Garcia, Bishop of
Cordova, and Don Sancho, Bishop of Coria. Hastily summoning their
vassals, horse and foot, they bestrode their steeds, with cuirass
over cassock, and lance instead of crosier, and set off at full
gallop to the rescue of their brother saints. When the Moors saw the
warrior bishops and their retainers scouring to the field, they gave
over the contest, and leaving the prior and his companions, they drew
off towards the city. Their retreat was soon changed to a headlong
flight; for the bishops, not content with rescuing the prior,
continued in pursuit of his assailants. The Moorish foot-soldiers
were soon overtaken and either slaughtered or made prisoners: nor
did the horsemen make good their retreat into the city, until
the powerful arm of the Church had visited their rear with pious
vengeance.[91] Nor did the chastisement of Heaven end here. The stout
prior of the hospital, being once aroused, was full of ardor and
enterprise. Concerting with the Prince Don Enrique, and the Masters
of Calatrava and Alcantara, and the valiant Lorenzo Xuarez, they made
a sudden assault by night on the suburb of Seville called Benaljofar,
and broke their way into it with fire and sword. The Moors were
roused from their sleep by the flames of their dwellings and the
shouts of the Christians. There was hard and bloody fighting. The
prior of the hospital, with his valiant friars, was in the fiercest
of the action, and their war-cry of “San Juan! San Juan!” was heard
in all parts of the suburb. Many houses were burnt, many sacked, many
Moors slain or taken prisoners, and the Christian knights and warrior
friars, having gathered together a great cavalgada of the flocks and
herds which were in the suburb, drove it off in triumph to the camp,
by the light of the blazing dwellings.
[91] _Cronica General_, pt. 4, p. 338.
A like inroad was made by the prior and the same cavaliers, a few
nights afterwards, into the suburb called Macarena, which they laid
waste in like manner, bearing off wealthy spoils. Such was the pious
vengeance which the Moors brought upon themselves by meddling with
the kine of the stout prior of the hospital.
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