University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XLVII.

Hitherto the events of this renowned
war have been little else than a succession
of brilliant but brief exploits, such
as sudden forays and wild skirmishes
among the mountains, or the surprisal of
castles, fortresses, and frontier towns.
We approach now to more important
and prolonged operations, in which ancient
and mighty cities, the bulwarks of
Granada, were invested by powerful
armies, subdued by slow and regular
sieges, and thus the capital left naked
and alone.

The glorious triumphs of the catholic
sovereigns, says Fray Antonio Agapida,
had resounded throughout the East, and
filled all heathenesse with alarm. The

Grand Turk, Bajazet II. and his deadly
foe the Grand Soldan of Egypt, suspending
for a time their bloody feuds,
entered into a league to protect the religion
of Mahomet and the kingdom of
Granada from the hostilities of the Christians.
It was concerted between them, that
Bajazet should send a powerful armada
against the island of Sicily, then appeartaining
to the Spanish crown, for the
purpose of distracting the attention of
the Castilian sovereigns, while at the
same time, great bodies of troops should
be poured into Granada from the opposite
coast of Africa.

Ferdinand and Isabella received timely
intelligence of these designs. They resolved
at once to carry the war into the
seaboard of Granada, to possess themselves
of its ports, and thus, as it were,
to bar the gates of the kingdom against
all external aid. Malaga was to be the
main object of attack: it was the principal
seaport of the kingdom, and almost
necessary to its existence. It had long
been the seat of opulent commerce,
sending many ships to the coasts of
Syria and Egypt. It was also the great
channel of communication with Africa,
through which were introduced supplies
of money, troops, arms, and steeds, from
Tunis, Tripoli, Fez, Tremezan, and
other Barbary powers. It was emphatically
called, therefore, the Hand and
Mouth of Granada.

Before laying siege to this redoubtable
city, however, it was deemed necessary
to secure the neighbouring city of Velez
Malaga, and its dependent places, which
might otherwise harass the besieging
army.

For this important campaign, the nobles
of the kingdom were again summoned to
take the field with their forces, in the
spring of 1487. The menaced invasion
of the infidel powers of the East had
awakened new ardour in the bosoms of
all true Christian knights, and so zealously
did they respond to the summons
of the sovereigns, that an army of
twenty thousand cavalry, and fifty thousand
foot, the flower of Spanish warriors,
led by the bravest of Spanish
cavaliers, thronged the renowned city
of Cordova at the appointed time.

On the night before this mighty host
set forth upon its march, an earthquake
shook the city. The inhabitants, awakened
by the shaking of the walls and
rocking of the towers, fled to the courts
and squares, fearing to be overwhelmed
by the ruins of their dwellings. The
earthquake was most violent in the
quarter of the royal residence, the site
of the ancient palace of the Moorish
kings. Many looked upon this as an
omen of some impending evil, but Fray
Antonio Agapida, in that infallible spirit
of divination which succeeds an event,
plainly reads in it a presage, that the
empire of the Moors was about to be
shaken to its centre.

It was on Saturday, the eve of the
Sunday of Palms, says a worthy and
loyal chronicler of the times, that the
most catholic monarch departed with his
army to render service to heaven, and
make war upon the Moors.[70] Heavy
rains had swelled all the streams, and
rendered the roads deep and difficult.
The king therefore divided his host into
two bodies. In one he put all the artillery,
guarded by a strong body of
horse, and commanded by the master of
Alcantara, and Martin Alonso, senior of
Montemayor. This division was to proceed
by the road through the valleys,
where pasturage abounded for the oxen
which drew the ordnance.

The main body of the army was led
by the king in person. It was divided
into numerous battalions, each commanded
by some distinguished cavalier.
The king took the rough and perilous
road of the mountains; and few mountains
are more rugged and difficult than
those of Andalusia. The roads are mere
mule-paths, straggling amidst rocks and
along the verge of precipices, clambering
vast craggy heights, or descending
into frightful chasms and ravines,
with scanty and uncertain foothold for
either man or steed. Four thousand
pioneers were sent in advance, under
the alcayde de los Donzeles, to conquer,
in some degree, the asperities of the
road. Some had pickaxes and crows,
to break the rocks; some implements to
construct bridges over the mountain torrents;
while it was the duty of others to

lay stepping-stones in the smaller streams.
As the country was inhabited by fierce
Moorish mountaineers, Don Diego de
Castrillo was despatched, with a body of
horse and foot, to take possesion of the
heights and passes. Notwithstanding
every precaution, the royal army suffered
excessively on its march. At one
time, there was no place to encamp for
five leagues of the most toilsome and
mountainous country, and many of the
beasts of burden sank down and perished
on the road.

It was with the greatest joy, therefore,
that the royal army emerged from these
stern and frightful defiles, and came to
where they looked down upon the vega
of Velez Malaga. The region before
them was one of the most delectable to
the eye that ever was ravaged by an
army. Sheltered from every rude blast
by a screen of mountains, and sloping
and expanding to the south, this lovely
valley was quickened by the most generous
sunshine, watered by the silver
meanderings of the Velez, and refreshed
by cooling breezes from the Mediterranean.
The sloping hills were covered
with vineyards and olive-trees, the distant
fields waved with grain, or were
verdant with pasturage, while around
the city were delightful gardens, the
favourite retreat of the Moors, where
their white pavilions gleamed among
groves of oranges, citrons, and pomegranates,
and were surmounted by stately
palms, those plants of southern growth,
bespeaking a generous climate and a
cloudless sky.

In the upper part of this delightful
valley the city of Velez Malaga reared
its warrior battlements, in stern contrast
to the landscape. It was built on the declivity
of a steep and insulated hill, and
strongly fortified by walls and towers.
The crest of the hill rose high above
the town into a mere crag, inaccessible
on every other side, and crowned by a
powerful castle, which domineered over
the surrounding country. Two suburbs
swept down into the valley, from the
skirts of the town, and were defended
by bulwarks and deep ditches. The
vast ranges of gray mountains, often
capped with clouds, which rose to the
North, were inhabited by a hardy and
warlike race, whose strong fortresses of
Comares, Camillas, Competa, and Benemarhorga
frowned down from cragged
heights.

At the time that the Christian host
arrived in sight of this valley, a squadron
was hovering on the smooth sea
before it, displaying the banner of Castile.
This was commanded by the Count
of Trevento, and consisted of four armed
galleys, convoying a number of caravels,
laden with supplies for the army.

After surveying the ground, King Ferdinand
encamped on the side of a mountain,
which advanced close to the city,
and was the last of a rugged sierra, or
chain of heights, that extended quite to
Granada. On the summit of this mountain,
and overlooking the camp, was a
Moorish town, powerfully fortified, called
Bentomiz, and which, from its vicinity,
had been considered capable of yielding
great assistance to Velez Malaga. Several
of the generals remonstrated with
the king for choosing a post so exposed
to assaults from the mountaineers. Ferdinand
replied, that he should thus cut
off all communication between the town
and the city; and that, as to the danger,
his soldiers must keep the more vigilant
guard against surprise.

King Ferdinand rode forth, attended
by several cavaliers, and a small number
of cuirassiers, appointing the various
stations of the camp. While a body of
foot-soldiers were taking possession, as
an advanced guard, of an important
height which overlooked the city, the
king retired to a tent to take refreshment.
While at table, he was startled
by a sudden uproar, and, looking forth,
beheld his soldiers flying before a superior
force of the enemy. The king
had on no other armour but a cuirass.
Seizing a lance, however, he sprang upon
his horse, and galloped to protect the
fugitives, followed by his handful of
knights and cuirassiers. When the
Spaniards saw the king hastening to
their aid, they turned upon their pursuers.
Ferdinand, in his eagerness,
threw himself into the midst of the foe.
One of his grooms was killed beside
him; but before the Moor who slew him
could escape, the king transfixed him
with his lance. He then sought to draw

his sword, which hung at his saddle-bow,
but in vain. Never had he been exposed
to such peril: he was surrounded by the
enemy, without a weapon wherewith to
defend himself.

In this moment of awful jeopardy,
the Marquis of Cadiz, the Count de
Cabra, the adelantado of Murcia, with
two other cavaliers, named Garcilasso
de la Vega and Diego de Atayde, came
galloping to the scene of action, and,
surrounding the king, made a loyal
rampart of their bodies against the
assaults of the Moors. The horse of
the marquis was pierced by an arrow,
and that worthy cavalier exposed to
imminent danger: but, with the aid of
his valorous companions, he quickly put
the enemy to flight, and pursued them
with slaughter to the very gates of the
city.

When these loyal warriors returned
from the pursuit, they remonstrated
with the king for exposing his life in
personal conflict, seeing that he had so
many valiant captains, whose business
it was to fight. They reminded him,
that the life of a prince was the life of his
people, and that many a brave army was
lost by the loss of its commander. They
entreated him, therefore, in future to protect
them with the force of his mind in
the cabinet, rather than his arm in the
field.

Ferdinand acknowledged the wisdom
of their advice, but declared, that he
could not see his people in peril without
venturing his person to assist them: a
reply, say the old chroniclers, which
delighted the whole army, inasmuch as
they saw, that he not only governed
them as a good king, but protected them
as a valiant captain. Ferdinand, however,
was conscious of the extreme peril
to which he had been exposed, and made
a vow never again to venture into battle
without having his sword girt to his
side.[71]

When this achievement of the king
was related to Isabella, she trembled
amidst her joy at his safety; and afterwards,
in memorial of the event, she
granted to Velez Malaga, as the arms of
the city, the figure of the king on horseback,
with a groom lying dead at his
feet, and the Moors flying.[72]

The camp was formed, but the artillery
was yet on the road, advancing with infinite
labour at the rate of merely a
league a day; for heavy rains had converted
the streams of the valleys into
raging torrents, and completely broken
up the roads. In the mean time King
Ferdinand ordered an assault on the
suburbs of the city. They were carried,
after a sanguinary conflict of six hours,
in which many Christian cavaliers were
killed and wounded, and among the latter
Don Alvaro of Portugal, son of the Duke
of Braganza. The suburbs were then
fortified towards the city with trenches
and palisades, and garrisoned by a chosen
force under Don Fadrique de Toledo.
Other trenches were digged round the
city, and from the suburbs to the royal
camp, so as to cut off all communication
with the surrounding country.

Bodies of troops were also sent to take
possession of the mountain passes, by
which the supplies for the army had to
be brought. The mountains, however,
were so steep and rugged, and so full of
defiles and lurking-places, that the Moors
could sally forth and retreat in perfect
security, frequently sweeping down upon
Christian convoys, and bearing off both
booty and prisoners to their strongholds.
Sometimes the Moors would light fires
at night on the sides of the mountains,
which would be answered by fires from
the watchtowers and fortresses. By these
signals they would concert assaults upon
the Christian camp, which, in consequence,
was obliged to be continually on
the alert, and ready to fly to arms.

King Ferdinand flattered himself, that
the manifestation of his force had struck
sufficient terror into the city, and that,
by offers of clemency, it might be induced
to capitulate. He wrote a letter,
therefore, to the commanders, promising,
in case of immediate surrender, that all
the inhabitants should be permitted to
depart with their effects; but threatening
them with fire and sword if they persisted
in defence. This letter was despatched
by a cavalier named Carvajal,

who, putting it on the end of a lance,
gave it to the Moors who were on the
walls of the city. The commanders replied,
that the king was too noble and
magnanimous to put such a threat in
execution, and that they should not surrender,
as they knew the artillery could
not be brought to the camp, and they
were promised succour by the king of
Granada.

At the same time that he received this
reply, the king learned, that at the strong
town of Comares, upon a height about
two leagues distant from the camp, a
large number of warriors had assembled
from the Axarquia, the same mountains
in which the Christian cavaliers had been
massacred in the beginning of the war;
and that others were daily expected, for
this rugged sierra was capable of furnishing
fifteen thousand fighting men.

King Ferdinand felt that his army,
thus disjointed and enclosed in an enemy's
country, was in a perilous situation,
and that the utmost discipline and vigilance
were necessary. He put the camp
under the strictest regulations, forbidding
all gaming, blasphemy, or brawl, and
expelling all loose women, and their attendant
bully-ruffians, the usual fomenters
of riot and contention among soldiery.
He ordered that none should sally forth
to skirmish without permission from their
commanders; that none should set fire
to the woods of the neighbouring mountains,
and that all word of security given
to Moorish places or individuals should
be inviolably observed. These regulations
were enforced by severe penalties,
and had such salutary effect, that, though
a vast host of various people was collected
together, not an opprobrious epithet
was heard, nor a weapon drawn in
quarrel.

In the mean time the cloud of war
went on gathering about the summits of
the mountains: multitudes of the fierce
warriors of the sierra descended to the
lower heights of Bentomiz, which overhung
the camp, intending to force their
way into the city. A detachment was
sent against them, which, after sharp
fighting, drove them to the higher cliffs
of the mountain, where it was impossible
to pursue them.

Ten days had elapsed since the encampment
of the army, yet still the
artillery had not arrived. The lombards
and other heavy ordnance were left, in
despair, at Antequera; the rest came
groaning slowly through the narrow valleys,
which were filled with long trains
of artillery and cars laden with munitions.
At length part of the smaller
ordnance arrived within half a league of
the camp, and the Christians were animated
with the hopes of soon being able
to make a regular attack upon the fortifications
of the city.