University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XLIII.

"The catholic sovereigns," says Fray
Antonio Agapida, "had by this time
closely clipped the right wing of the
Moorish vulture." In other words, most
of the strong fortresses along the western
frontier of Granada had fallen beneath
the Christian artillery. The army now
lay encamped before the town of Moclin,
on the frontier of Jaen, one of the most
stubborn fortresses of the border. It
stood on a high rocky hill, the base of
which was nearly girdled by a river. A
thick forest protected the back part of
the town towards the mountain. Thus
strongly situate, it domineered, with its
frowning battlements and massive towers,
over all the mountain passes into that
part of the country, and was called the
Shield of Granada. It had a double
arrear of blood to settle with the Christians.
Two hundred years before, a
Master of Santiago and all his cavaliers
had been lanced by the Moors before its
gates. It had recently made terrible
slaughter among the troops of the good
Count de Cabra, in his precipitate attempt
to entrap the old Moorish monarch. The
pride of Ferdinand had been piqued, by
being obliged, on that occasion, to recede
from his plan, and abandon the concerted
attack on the place. He was now prepared
to take a full revenge.

El Zagal, the old warrior, king of
Granada, anticipating a second attempt,
had provided the place with ample munitions
and provision; had ordered trenches
to be dug, and additional bulwarks thrown
up, and caused all the old men, the
women, and the children, to be removed
to the capital.

Such was the strength of the fortress,
and the difficulties of its position, that
Ferdinand anticipated much trouble in
reducing it, and made every preparation
for a regular siege. In the centre of his
camp were two great mounds, one of
sacks of flour, the other of grain, which
were called the royal granary. Three
batteries of heavy ordnance were opened
against the citadel and principal towers,
while smaller artillery, engines for the
discharge of missiles, arquebuses, and

crossbows, were distributed in various
places, to keep up a fire into any breach
that might be made, and upon those of
the garrison who should appear on the
battlements.

The lombards soon made an impression
on the works, demolishing a part of
the wall, and tumbling down several of
those haughty towers, which, from their
height, had been impregnable before the
invention of gunpowder. The Moors
repaired their walls as well as they were
able, and, still confiding in the strength
of their situation, kept up a resolute defence,
firing down from their lofty battlements
and towers upon the Christian
camp. For two nights and a day an
incessant fire was kept up, so that there
was not a moment in which the roaring
of ordnance was not heard, or some
damage sustained by the Christians or
the Moors. It was a conflict, however,
more of engineers and artillerists than of
gallant cavaliers; there was no sally of
troops, or shock of armed men, or rush
and charge of cavalry. The knights
stood looking on with idle weapons,
waiting until they should have an opportunity
of signalizing their prowess,
by scaling the walls or storming the
breaches. As the place, however, was
assailable only in one part, there was
every prospect of a long and obstinate
resistance.

The engines, as usual, discharged not
only balls of stone and iron to demolish
the walls, but flaming balls of inextinguishable
combustibles, designed to set
fire to the houses. One of these, which
passed high through the air, like a meteor,
sending out sparks, and crackling as it
went, entered the window of a tower,
which was used as a magazine of gunpowder.
The tower blew up, with a tremendous
explosion; the Moors who were
upon its battlements, were hurled into the
air, and fell mangled in various parts of
the town; and the houses in its vicinity
were rent and overthrown, as with an
earthquake.

The Moors, who had never witnessed
an explosion of this kind, ascribed the
destruction of the tower to a miracle.
Some, who had seen the descent of the
flaming ball, imagined that the fire had
fallen from heaven, to punish them for
their pertinacity. The pious Agapida
himself believes that this fiery missive
was conducted by divine agency, to confound
the infidels—an opinion in which
he is supported by other catholic historians.[62]

Seeing heaven and earth, as it were,
combined against them, the Moors lost
all heart, and capitulated; and were permitted
to depart with their effects, leaving
behind all arms and munitions of war.

"The catholic army," says Antonio
Agapida, "entered Moclin in solemn
state, not as a licentious host, intent upon
plunder and desolation, but as a band of
Christian warriors, coming to purify and
regenerate the land. The standard of
the cross, that ensign of this holy crusade,
was borne in the advance, followed
by the other banners of the army. Then
came the king and queen, at the head
of a vast number of armed cavaliers.
They were accompanied by a band of
priests and friars, with the choir of the
royal chapel, chanting the canticle Te
Deum laudamus. As they were moving
through the streets in this solemn manner,
every sound hushed, excepting the
anthem of the choir, they suddenly heard
issuing, as it were from under ground, a
chorus of voices chanting the solemn
response, Benedictum qui venit in nomine
Domini.[63] The procession paused
in wonder. The sounds arose from
Christian captives, and among them
several priests, who were confined in
subterraneous dungeons."

The heart of Isabella was greatly
touched: she ordered the captives to be
drawn forth from their cells; and was
still more moved at beholding, by their
wan, discoloured, and emaciated appearance,
how much they had suffered.
Their hair and beards were overgrown
and shagged; they were wasted by
hunger, and were half naked, and in
chains. She ordered that they should
be clothed and cherished, and money
furnished them to bear them to their
homes.[64]

Several of the captives were brave
cavaliers, who had been wounded and

made prisoners in the defeat of the Count
de Cabra, by El Zagal, in the preceding
year. There were also found other
melancholy traces of that disastrous
affair. On visiting the narrow pass,
where the defeat had taken place, the
remains of several Christian warriors
were found in thickets, or hidden behind
rocks, or in the clefts of the mountains.
There were some who had been struck
from their horses, and wounded too
severely to fly. They had crawled
away from the scene of action, and concealed
themselves to avoid falling into
the hands of the enemy, and had thus
perished miserably and alone. The remains
of those of note were known by
their armour and devices, and were
mourned over by their companions, who
had shared the disasters of that day.[65]

The queen had these remains piously
collected, as the relies of so many martyrs
who had fallen in the cause of the
faith. They were interred, with great
solemnity, in the mosques of Moclin,
which had been purified, and consecrated
to Christian worship. "There," says
Antonio Agapida, "rest the hones of
those truly catholic knights, in the holy
ground, which, in a manner, had been
sanctified by their blood; and all pilgrims,
passing through those mountains,
offer up prayers and masses for the repose
of their souls."

The queen remained for some time at
Moclin, administering comfort to the
wounded and the prisoners, bringing the
newly acquired territory into order, and
founding churches and monasteries, and
other pious institutions. "While the
king marched in front, laying waste the
land of the Philistines," says the figurative
Antonio Agapida, "Queen Isabella
followed his traces, as the binder follows
the reaper, gathering the rich harvest
that has fallen beneath his sickle. In
this she was greatly assisted by the counsels
of that cloud of bishops, friars, and
clergymen, besides other saintly personages,
which continually surrounded her,
garnering the first fruits of this infidel
land into the granaries of the church."
Leaving her thus piously employed, the
king pursued his career of conquest, determined
to lay waste the vega, and carry
fire and sword to the very gates of Granada.