CHAPTER LXXVIII.
Of the disaster which befel the camp.
While the Christian camp, thus gay
and gorgeous, spread itself out like a
holiday pageant before the walls of Baza;
while a long line of beasts of burden,
laden with provisions and luxuries, were
seen descending the valley from morning
till night, and pouring into the camp a
continued stream of abundance, the unfortunate
garrison found their resources
rapidly wasting away, and famine already
began to pinch the peaceful part of the
community.
Cidi Yahye had acted with great spirit
and valour, as long as there was any
prospect of success; but he began to lose
his usual fire and animation, and was
observed to pace the walls of Baza with
a pensive air, casting many a wistful
look towards the Christian camp, and
sinking into profound reveries and cogitations.
The veteran alcayde, Mohammed
ben Hassan, noticed these desponding
moods, and endeavoured to rally the
spirits of the prince. "The rainy season
is at hand," would he cry: "the floods
will soon pour down from the mountains;
the rivers will overflow their banks, and
inundate the valleys. The Christian king
already begins to waver; he dares not
linger and encounter such a season, in a
plain cut up by canals and rivulets. A
single wintry storm from our mountains
would wash away his canvass city, and
sweep off those gay pavilions, like
wreaths of snow before the blast."
The Prince Cidi Yahye took heart at
these words, and counted the days as
they passed, until the stormy season
should commence. As he watched the
Christian camp, he beheld it one morning
in universal commotion. There was
an unusual sound of hammers in every
part, as if some new engines of war
were constructing. At length, to his
astonishment, the walls and roofs of
houses began to appear above the bulwarks.
In a little while there were
above a thousand edifices of wood and
plaster erected, covered with tiles, taken
from the demolished towers of the orchards,
and bearing pennons of various
commanders and cavaliers; while the
common soldiery constructed huts of
clay and branches of trees, and thatched
them with straw. Thus, to the dismay
of the Moors, within four days the light
tents and gay pavilions, which had
whitened the hills and plains, passed
away like summer clouds; and the unsubstantial
camp assumed the solid appearance
of a city laid out into streets
and squares. In the centre rose a large
edifice, which overlooked the whole, and
the royal standard of Aragon and Castile,
proudly floating above it, showed it to be
the palace of the king.
[105]
Ferdinand had taken the sudden resolution
thus to turn his camp into a city,
partly to provide against the approaching
season, and partly to convince the Moors
of his fixed determination to continue the
siege. In their haste to erect their
dwellings, however, the Spanish cavaliers
had not properly considered the nature
of the climate. For the greater part of
the year there scarcely falls a drop of
rain on the thirsty soil of Andalusia: the
ramblas, or dry channels of the torrents,
remain deep and arid gashes and clefts
in the sides of the mountains. The
perennial streams shrink up to mere
threads of water, which tinkling down
the bottoms of the deep barrancas or
ravines, scarcely feed and keep alive the
rivers of the valleys. The rivers, almost
lost in their wide and naked beds, seem
like thirsty rills, winding in serpentine
mazes through deserts of sand and
stones; and so shallow and tranquil in
their course, as to be forded in safety in
almost every part. One autumnal tempest
of rain, however, changes the whole
face of nature. The clouds break in
deluges among the vast congregation of
mountains. The ramblas are suddenly
filled with raging floods, the tinkling
rivulets swell to thundering torrents, that
come roaring down from the mountains,
precipitating great masses of rocks in
their career. The late meandering river
spreads over its once naked bed, lashes
its surges against the banks, and rushes,
like a wide and foaming inundation,
through the valley.
Scarcely had the Christians finished
their slightly built edifices, when an
autumnal tempest of this kind came scouring
from the mountains. The camp was
immediately overflowed. Many of the
houses, undermined by the floods or
beaten by the rain, crumbled away, and
fell to the earth, burying man and beast
beneath their ruins. Several valuable
lives were lost, and great numbers of
horses and other animals perished. To
add to the distress and confusion of the
camp, the daily supply of provisions suddenly
ceased; for the rain had broken up
the roads, and rendered the rivers impassable.
A panic seized upon the army,
for the cessation of a single day's supply
produced a scarcity of bread and provender.
Fortunately the rain was but
transient. The torrents rushed by, and
ceased; the rivers shrunk back again to
their narrow channels; and the convoys,
that had been detained upon their banks,
arrived safely in the camp.
No sooner did Queen Isabella hear of
this interruption of her supplies, than,
with her usual vigilance and activity,
she provided against its recurrence. She
despatched six thousand foot-soldiers,
under the command of experienced officers,
to repair the roads, and to make
causeways and bridges, for the distance
of seven Spanish leagues. The troops,
also, who had been stationed in the
mountains by the king, to guard the
defiles, made two paths, one for the convoys
going to the camp, and the other
for those returning, that they might not
meet and impede each other. The
edifices which had been demolished by
the late floods, were rebuilt in a firmer
manner, and precautions were taken to
protect the camp from future inundations.
