University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.
How the people of Granada were affected, on hearing of
the capture of Alhama; and how the Moorish King
sallied forth to regain it.

A Moorish horseman had spurred across the vega,
nor reined his panting steed until he alighted at the
gate of the Alhambra. He brought tidings to Muley
Aben Hassan, of the attack upon Alhama. “The
christians,” said he, “are in the land. They came
upon us, we know not whence or how, and scaled
the walls of the castle in the night. There has been
dreadful fighting and carnage in its towers and courts;
and when I spurred my steed from the gate of Alhama,
the castle was in possession of the unbelievers.”

Muley Aben Hassan felt for a moment as if swift
retribution had come upon him for the woes he had
inflicted upon Zahara. Still he flattered himself that
this had only been some transient inroad of a party
of marauders, intent upon plunder; and that a little
succor, thrown into the town, would be sufficient to
expel them from the castle, and drive them from the
land. He ordered out, therefore, a thousand of his
chosen cavalry, and sent them in all speed to the
assistance of Alhama. They arrived before its walls,
the morning after its capture: the christian standards
floated upon its towers, and a body of cavalry poured
forth from its gates and came wheeling down into
the plain to receive them.

The Moorish horsemen turned the reins of their
steeds, and galloped back for Granada. They entered
its gates in tumultuous confusion, spreading
terror and lamentation by their tidings. “Alhama
is fallen! Alhama is fallen!” exclaimed they; “the
christians garrison its walls; the key of Granada is
in the hands of the enemy!”

When the people heard these words, they remembered
the denunciation of the santon. His prediction
seemed still to resound in every ear, and its fulfilment
to be at hand. Nothing was heard throughout
the city, but sighs and wailings. “Wo is me,
Alhama!” was in every mouth; and this ejaculation
of deep sorrow and doleful foreboding, came to be
the burthen of a plaintive ballad, which remains until
the present day.[1]

Many aged men, who had taken refuge in Granada
from other Moorish dominions which had fallen into
the power of the Christians, now groaned in despair
at the thoughts that war was to follow them into this
last retreat, to lay waste this pleasant land, and to
bring trouble and sorrow upon their declining years.
The women were more loud and vehement in their
grief; for they beheld the evils impending over their
children, and what can restrain the agony of a
mother's heart? Many of them made their way
through the halls of the Alhambra into the presence
of the king, weeping, and wailing, and tearing their

hair. “Accursed be the day,” cried they, “that thou
hast lit the flame of war in our land! May the holy
Prophet bear witness before Allah, that we and our
children are innocent of this act! Upon thy head,
and upon the heads of thy posterity, until the end of
the world, rest the sin of the desolation of Zahara!”[2]

Muley Aben Hassan remained unmoved, amidst all
this storm; his heart was hardened (observes Fray
Antonio Agapida) like that of Pharaoh, to the end
that, through his blind violence and rage, he might
produce the deliverance of the land from its heathen
bondage. In fact, he was a bold and fearless warrior,
and trusted soon to make this blow recoil upon
the head of the enemy. He had ascertained that the
captors of Alhama were but a handful: they were
in the centre of his dominions, within a short distance
of his capital. They were deficient in munitions of
war, and provisions for sustaining a siege. By a
rapid movement, he might surround them with a
powerful army, cut off all aid from their countrymen,
and entrap them in the fortress they had taken.

To think was to act, with Muley Aben Hassan;
but he was prone to act with too much precipitation.
He immediately set forth in person, with three thousand
horse and fifty thousand foot, and in his eagerness
to arrive at the scene of action, would not wait
to provide artillery and the various engines required
in a siege. “The multitude of my forces,” said he,
confidently, “will be sufficient to overwhelm the
enemy.”

The marques of Cadiz, who thus held possession
of Alhama, had a chosen friend and faithful companion
in arms, among the most distinguished of the
christian chivalry. This was Don Alonzo de Cordova,
senior and lord of the house of Aguilar, and
brother of Gonsalvo of Cordova, afterwards renowned
as grand captain of Spain. As yet, Alonzo de Aguilar
was the glory of his name and race—for his brother
was but young in arms. He was one of the most
hardy, valiant, and enterprising of the Spanish knights,
and foremost in all service of a perilous and adventurous
nature. He had not been at hand, to accompany
his friend Ponce de Leon, marques of Cadiz, in
his inroad into the Moorish territory; but he hastily
assembled a number of retainers, horse and foot, and
pressed forward to join the enterprise. Arriving at
the river Yeguas, he found the baggage of the army
still upon its banks, and took charge of it to carry it
to Alhama. The marques of Cadiz heard of the approach
of his friend, whose march was slow in consequence
of being encumbered by the baggage. He
was within but a few leagues of Alhama, when scouts
came hurrying into the place, with intelligence that
the Moorish king was at hand with a powerful army.
The marques of Cadiz was filled with alarm lest De
Aguilar should fall into the hands of the enemy.
Forgetting his own danger, and thinking only of that
of his friend, he dispatched a well-mounted messenger,
to ride full speed, and warn him not to approach.

The first determination of Alonzo de Aguilar, when
he heard that the Moorish king was at hand, was to

take a strong position in the mountains, and await
his coming. The madness of an attempt with his
handful of men to oppose an immense army, was
represented to him with such force as to induce him
to abandon the idea; he then thought of throwing
himself into Alhama, to share the fortunes of his
friend: but it was now too late. The Moor would
infallibly intercept him, and he should only give the
marques the additional distress of beholding him captured
beneath his walls. It was even urged upon
him that he had no time for delay, if he would consult
his own safety, which could only be insured by
an immediate retreat into the Christian territory.
This last opinion was confirmed by the return of
scouts, who brought information that Muley Aben
Hassan had received notice of his movements, and
was rapidly advancing in quest of him. It was with
infinite reluctance that Don Alonzo de Aguilar yielded
to these united and powerful reasons. Proudly and
sullenly he drew off his forces, laden with the baggage
of the army, and made an unwilling retreat towards
Antiquera. Muley Aben Hassan pursued him for
some distance through the mountains, but soon gave
up the chase and turned with his forces upon Alhama.

As the army approached the town, they beheld the
fields strewn with the dead bodies of their countrymen,
who had fallen in defence of the place, and had
been cast forth and left unburied by the christians.
There they lay, mangled, and exposed to every indignity;
while droves of half-famished dogs were
preying upon them, and fighting and howling, over

their hideous repast.[3] Furious at the sight, the
Moors, in the first transports of their rage, attacked
those ravenous animals: their next measure was to
vent their fury upon the christians. They rushed
like madmen to the walls, applied scaling-ladders in
all parts, without waiting for the necessary mantelets
and other protections,—thinking, by attacking suddenly
and at various points, to distract the enemy,
and overcome them by the force of numbers.

The marques of Cadiz, with his confederate commanders,
distributed themselves along the walls, to
direct and animate their men in the defence. The
Moors, in their blind fury, often assailed the most
difficult and dangerous places. Darts, stones, and
all kinds of missiles, were hurled down upon their
defenceless heads. As fast as they mounted, they
were cut down, or dashed from the battlements, their
ladders overturned, and all who were on them precipitated
headlong below.

Muley Aben Hassan stormed with passion, at the
sight; he sent detachment after detachment to scale
the walls—but in vain; they were like waves rushing
upon a rock, only to dash themselves to pieces. The
Moors lay in heaps beneath the wall, and among
them many of the bravest cavaliers of Granada. The
christians, also, sallied frequently from the gates, and
made great havoc in the irregular multitude of assailants.

On one of these occasions, the party was commanded

by Don Juan de Vera, the same pious and
high-handed knight who had borne the embassy to
Muley Aben Hassan, demanding tribute. As this
doughty cavalier, after a career of carnage, was
slowly retreating to the gate, he heard a voice loudly
calling after him, in furious accents. “Turn back!
turn back!” cried the voice; “thou who canst insult
in hall, prove that thou canst combat in the field.”
Don Juan de Vera turned, and beheld the same
Abencerrage whom he had struck with his sword in
the Alhambra, for scoffing at the immaculate conception
of the blessed virgin. All his holy zeal and
pious indignation rekindled at the sight; he put lance
in rest, and spurred his steed to finish this doctrinal
dispute. Don Juan de Vera was a potent and irresistible
arguer with his weapon; and he was aided,
(says Fray Antonio Agapida,) by the peculiar virtue
of his cause. At the very first encounter, his lance
entered the mouth of the Moor, and hurled him to
the earth, never more to utter word or breath. Thus
(continues the worthy friar) did this scoffing infidel
receive a well-merited punishment, through the very
organ with which he had offended; and thus was the
immaculate conception miraculously vindicated from
his foul aspersions.

The vigorous and successful defence of the christians,
now made Muley Aben Hassan sensible of his
error in hurrying from Granada without the proper
engines for a siege. Destitute of all means to batter
the fortifications, the town remained uninjured, defying
the mighty army which raged and roamed before

it. Incensed at being thus foiled, Muley Aben Hassan
gave orders to undermine the walls. The Moors
advanced with shouts to the attempt. They were
received with a deadly fire from the ramparts, which
drove them from their works. Repeatedly were
they repulsed, and repeatedly did they return to the
charge. The christians not merely galled them from
the battlements, but issued forth and cut them down
in the excavations they were attempting to form.
The contest lasted throughout a whole day, and by
evening two thousand Moors were either killed or
wounded.

Muley Aben Hassan now abandoned all hope of
carrying the place by assault, and attempted to distress
it into terms by turning the channel of the river
which runs by its walls. On this stream the inhabitants
depended for their supply of water; the place
being destitute of fountains and cisterns, from which
circumstance it is called Alhama la seca, or “the dry.”

A desperate conflict ensued on the banks of the
river, the Moors endeavoring to plant palisades in
its bed to divert the stream, and the christians striving
to prevent them. The Spanish commanders
exposed themselves to the utmost danger to animate
their men, who were repeatedly driven back into
the town. The marques of Cadiz was often up to
his knees in the stream, fighting hand to hand with
the Moors. The water ran red with blood, and was
encumbered with dead bodies. At length, the overwhelming
numbers of the Moors gave them the advantage,
and they succeeded in diverting the greater

part of the water. The christians had to struggle
severely, to supply themselves from the feeble rill
which remained. They sallied to the river by a
subterraneous passage; but the Moorish cross-bowmen
stationed themselves on the opposite bank,
keeping up a heavy fire upon the christians, whenever
they attempted to fill their vessels from the
scanty and turbid stream. One party of the christians
had, therefore, to fight, while another drew
water. At all hours of the day and night, this deadly
strife was maintained, until it seemed as if every drop
of water were purchased with a drop of blood.

In the mean time, the sufferings in the town became
intense. None but the soldiery and their horses
were allowed the precious beverage so dearly earned,
and even that in quantities that only tantalized their
wants. The wounded, who could not sally to procure
it, were almost destitute; while the unhappy
prisoners, shut up in the mosques, were reduced to
frightful extremities. Many perished raving mad,
fancying themselves swimming in boundless seas, yet
unable to assuage their thirst. Many of the soldiers
lay parched and panting along the battlements, no
longer able to draw a bowstring or hurl a stone;
while above five thousand Moors, stationed upon a
rocky height which overlooked part of the town,
kept up a galling fire into it with slings and cross-bows;
so that the marques of Cadiz was obliged to
heighten the battlements, by using the doors from the
private dwellings.

The christian cavaliers, exposed to this extreme
peril, and in imminent danger of falling into the hands
of the enemy, dispatched fleet messengers to Seville
and Cordova, entreating the chivalry of Andalusia to
hasten to their aid. They sent likewise, imploring
assistance from the king and queen, who at that time
held their court in Medina del Campo. In the
midst of their distress, a tank, or cistern, of water,
was fortunately discovered in the city, which gave
temporary relief to their sufferings.