University of Virginia Library

22. CHAPTER XXII.
Foray of the Moorish Alcaydes, and battle of Lopera.

Though Muley Aben Hassan had regained undivided
sway over the city of Granada, and the alfaquis,
by his command, had denounced his son Boabdil as
an apostate, and as one doomed by Heaven to misfortune,
still the latter had many adherents among the
common people. Whenever, therefore, any act of
the old monarch was displeasing to the turbulent
multitude, they were prone to give him a hint of the
slippery nature of his standing, by shouting out the
name of Boabdil el Chico. Long experience had
instructed Muley Aben Hassan in the character of
the inconstant people over whom he ruled. “Alla
Achbar!” exclaimed he, “God is great; but a successful
inroad into the country of the unbelievers,
will make more converts to my cause than a thousand
texts of the Koran, expounded by ten thousand
alfaquis.”

At this time king Ferdinand was absent from Andalusia
on a distant expedition, with many of his
troops. The moment was favorable for a foray, and
Muley Aben Hassan cast about his thoughts for a
leader to conduct it. Ali Atar, the terror of the
border, the scourge of Andalusia, was dead; but there
was another veteran general, scarce inferior to him
for predatory warfare. This was old Bexir, the gray

and crafty alcayde of Malaga; and the people under
his command were ripe for an expedition of the kind.
The signal defeat and slaughter of the Spanish knights
in the neighboring mountains had filled the people
of Malaga with vanity and self-conceit. They had
attributed to their own valor the defeat which had
been caused by the nature of the country. Many of
them wore the armor and paraded in public with the
horses of the unfortunate cavaliers slain on that occasion,
which they vauntingly displayed as the trophies
of their boasted victory. They had talked themselves
into a contempt for the chivalry of Andalusia, and
were impatient for an opportunity to overrun a
country defended by such troops. This, Muley Aben
Hassan considered a favorable state of mind to insure
a daring inroad, and he sent orders to old Bexir to
gather together his people and the choicest warriors
of the borders, and to carry fire and sword into the
very heart of Andalusia. The wary old Bexir immediately
dispatched his emissaries among the alcaydes
of the border towns, calling upon them to assemble
with their troops at the city of Ronda, close upon
the christian frontier.

Ronda was the most virulent nest of Moorish depredators
in the whole border country. It was situated
in the midst of the wild Serrania, or chain of mountains
of the same name, which are uncommonly lofty,
broken, and precipitous. It stood on an almost
isolated rock, nearly encircled by a deep valley, or
rather chasm, through which ran the beautiful river
called Rio Verde. The Moors of this city were the

most active, robust, and warlike of all the mountaineers,
and their very children discharged the cross-bow
with unerring aim. They were incessantly
harassing the rich plains of Andalusia; their city
abounded with christian spoils, and their deep dungeons
were crowded with christian captives, who
might sigh in vain for deliverance from this impregnable
fortress. Such was Ronda in the time of the
Moors; and it has ever retained something of the
same character, even to the present day. Its inhabitants
continue to be among the boldest, fiercest, and
most adventurous of the Andalusian mountaineers;
and the Serrania de Ronda is famous as the most dangerous
resort of the bandit and the contrabandista.

Hamet Zeli, surnamed El Zegri, was the commander
of this belligerent city and its fierce inhabitants.
He was of the tribe of the Zegries, and one
of the most proud and daring of that warlike race.
Beside the inhabitants of Ronda, he had a legion of
African Moors in his immediate service. They were
of the tribe of the Gomeres, mercenary troops, whose
hot African blood had not yet been tempered by the
softer living of Spain, and whose whole business was
to fight. These he kept always well armed and well
appointed. The rich pasturage of the valley of
Ronda produced a breed of horses famous for strength
and speed; no cavalry, therefore, was better mounted
than the band of Gomeres. Rapid on the march,
fierce in the attack, it would sweep down upon the
Andalusian plains like a sudden blast from the mountains,

and pass away as suddenly, before there was
time for pursuit.

There was nothing that stirred up the spirit of the
Moors of the frontiers more thoroughly than the idea
of a foray. The summons of Bexir was gladly obeyed
by the alcaydes of the border towns, and in a little
while there was a force of fifteen hundred horse and
four thousand foot, the very pith and marrow of the
surrounding country, assembled within the walls of
Ronda. The people of the place anticipated with
eagerness the rich spoils of Andalusia, that were soon
to crowd their gates; throughout the day, the city
resounded with the noise of kettle-drum and trumpet;
the high-mettled steeds stamped and neighed in their
stalls, as if they shared the impatience for the foray;
while the christian captives sighed, as the varied din
of preparation reached to their rocky dungeons, denoting
that a fresh ravage was preparing against their
countrymen.

The infidel host sallied forth full of spirits, anticipating
an easy ravage and abundant booty. They
encouraged each other in a contempt for the prowess
of the foe. Many of the warriors of Malaga, and of
some of the mountain towns, had insultingly arrayed
themselves in the splendid armor of the christian
knights slain or taken prisoners in the famous massacre,
and some of them rode the Andalusian steeds
which had been captured on that occasion.

The wary Bexir had concerted his plans so secretly
and expeditiously, that the christian towns of Andalusia
had not the least suspicion of the storm that had

gathered beyond the mountains. The vast and rocky
range of the Serrania de Ronda extended like a screen,
covering all their movements from observation.

The army made its way as rapidly as the rugged
nature of the mountains would permit, guided by
Hamet el Zegri, the bold alcayde of Ronda, who
knew every pass and defile: not a drum, nor the
clash of a cymbal, nor the blast of a trumpet, was
permitted to be heard. The mass of war rolled
quietly on as the gathering cloud to the brow of the
mountains, intending to burst down like the thunderbolt
upon the plain.

Never let the most wary commander fancy himself
secure from discovery; for rocks have eyes, and trees
have ears, and the birds of the air have tongues, to
betray the most secret enterprise. There chanced
at this time to be six christian scouts, prowling about
the savage heights of the Serrania de Ronda. They
were of that kind of lawless ruffians who infest the
borders of belligerent countries, ready at any time to
fight for pay, or prowl for plunder. The wild mountain
passes of Spain have ever abounded with loose
rambling vagabonds of the kind,—soldiers in war,
robbers in peace; guides, guards, smugglers, or cutthroats,
according to the circumstances of the case.

These six marauders (says Fray Antonio Agapida)
were on this occasion chosen instruments, sanctified
by the righteousness of their cause. They were
lurking among the mountains, to entrap Moorish
cattle or Moorish prisoners, both of which were
equally saleable in the christian market. They had

ascended one of the loftiest cliffs, and were looking
out like birds of prey, ready to pounce upon any
thing that might offer in the valley, when they descried
the Moorish army emerging from a mountain
glen. They watched it in silence as it wound below
them, remarking the standards of the various towns
and the pennons of the commanders. They hovered
about it on its march, skulking from cliff to cliff, until
they saw the route by which it intended to enter the
christian country. They then dispersed, each making
his way by the secret passes of the mountains to
some different alcayde, that they might spread the
alarm far and wide, and each get a separate reward.

One hastened to Luis Fernandez Puerto Carrero,
the same valiant alcayde who had repulsed Muley
Aben Hassan from the walls of Alhama, and who
now commanded at Ecija, in the absence of the
Master of Santiago. Others roused the town of
Utrera, and the places of that neighborhood, putting
them all on the alert.

Puerto Carrero was a cavalier of consummate vigor
and activity. He immediately sent couriers to the
alcaydes of the neighboring fortresses; to Herman
Carrello, captain of a body of the Holy Brotherhood,
and to certain knights of the order of Alcantara.
Puerto Carrero was the first to take the field. Knowing
the hard and hungry service of these border
scampers, he made every man take a hearty repast,
and see that his horse was well shod and perfectly
appointed. Then all being refreshed and in valiant
heart, he sallied forth to seek the Moors. He had

but a handful of men, the retainers of his household
and troops of his captaincy; but they were well
armed and mounted, and accustomed to the sudden
rouses of the border; men whom the cry of “Arm
and out! to horse and to the field!” was sufficient
at any time to put in a fever of animation.

While the northern part of Andalusia was thus on
the alert, one of the scouts had hastened southward
to the city of Xeres, and given the alarm to the
valiant marques of Cadiz. When the marques heard
that the Moor was over the border, and that the
standard of Malaga was in the advance, his heart
bounded with a momentary joy; for he remembered
the massacre in the mountains, where his valiant
brothers had been mangled before his eyes. The
very authors of his calamity were now at hand, and
he flattered himself that the day of vengeance had
arrived. He made a hasty levy of his retainers and
of the fighting men of Xeres, and hurried off with
three hundred horse and two hundred foot, all resolute
men and panting for revenge.

In the mean time, the veteran Bexir had accomplished
his march, as he imagined, undiscovered.
From the openings of the craggy defiles, he pointed
out the fertile plains of Andalusia, and regaled the
eyes of his soldiery with the rich country they were
about to ravage. The fierce Gomeres of Ronda
were flushed with joy at the sight; and even their
steeds seemed to prick up their ears and snuff the
breeze, as they beheld the scenes of their frequent
forays.

When they came to where the mountain defile
opened into the low land, Bexir divided his force
into three parts: one, composed of foot-soldiers and
of such as were weakly mounted, he left to guard
the pass, being too experienced a veteran not to know
the importance of securing a retreat: a second body
he placed in ambush, among the groves and thickets
on the banks of the river Lopera: the third, consisting
of light cavalry, he sent forth to ravage the Campiña,
or great plain of Utrera. Most of this latter
force was composed of the fiery Gomeres of Ronda,
mounted on the fleet steeds bred among the mountains.
It was led by the bold alcayde Hamet el
Zegri, who was ever eager to be foremost in the
forage. Little suspecting that the country on both
sides was on the alarm, and rushing from all directions
to close upon them in rear, this fiery troop
dashed forward until they came within two leagues
of Utrera. Here they scattered themselves about
the plain, careering round the great herds of cattle
and flocks of sheep, and sweeping them into droves,
to be hurried to the mountains.

While they were thus dispersed in every direction,
a troop of horse and body of foot from Utrera came
suddenly upon them. The Moors rallied together in
small parties, and endeavored to defend themselves;
but they were without a leader, for Hamet el Zegri
was at a distance, having, like a hawk, made a wide
circuit in pursuit of prey. The marauders soon gave
way and fled towards the ambush on the banks of the
Lopera, being hotly pursued by the men of Utrera.

When they reached the Lopera, the Moors in ambush
rushed forth with furious cries; and the fugitives,
recovering courage from this reinforcement,
rallied and turned upon their pursuers. The christians
stood their ground, though greatly inferior in
number. Their lances were soon broken, and they
came to sharp work with sword and scimitar. The
christians fought valiantly, but were in danger of
being overwhelmed. The bold Hamet had collected
a handful of his scattered Gomeres, and, leaving his
prey, had galloped towards the scene of action. His
little troop of horsemen had reached the crest of a
rising ground at no great distance, when trumpets
were heard in another direction, and Luis Fernandez
Puerto Carrero and his followers came galloping into
the field, and charged upon the infidels in flank.

The Moors were astounded at finding war thus
breaking upon them, from various quarters of what
they had expected to find an unguarded country.
They fought for a short time with desperation, and
resisted a vehement assault from the knights of Alcantara,
and the men-at-arms of the Holy Brotherhood.
At length the veteran Bexir was struck from his
horse by Puerto Carrero, and taken prisoner, and the
whole force gave way and fled. In their flight, they
separated, and took two roads to the mountains,
thinking, by dividing their forces, to distract the
enemy. The christians were too few to separate.
Puerto Carrero kept them together, pursuing one
division of the enemy with great slaughter. This
battle took place at the fountain of the fig-tree, near

to the Lopera. Six hundred Moorish cavaliers were
slain, and many taken prisoners. Much spoil was
collected on the field, with which the christians returned
in triumph to their homes.

The larger body of the enemy had retreated along
a road leading more to the south, by the banks of the
Guadalete. When they reached that river, the sound
of pursuit had died away, and they rallied to breathe
and refresh themselves on the margin of the stream.
Their force was reduced to about a thousand horse,
and a confused multitude of foot. While they were
scattered and partly dismounted on the banks of the
Guadalete, a fresh storm of war burst upon them
from an opposite direction. It was the marques of
Cadiz, leading on his household troops and the fighting
men of Xeres. When the christian warriors
came in sight of the Moors, they were roused to fury
at beholding many of them arrayed in the armor of
the cavaliers who had been slain among the mountains
of Malaga. Nay, some who had been in that
defeat beheld their own armor, which they had cast
away in their flight, to enable themselves to climb
the mountains. Exasperated at the sight, they rushed
upon the foe with the ferocity of tigers, rather
than the temperate courage of cavaliers. Each man
felt as if he were avenging the death of a relative, or
wiping out his own disgrace. The good marques,
himself, beheld a powerful Moor bestriding the horse
of his brother Beltran: giving a cry of rage and anguish
at the sight, he rushed through the thickest of
the enemy, attacked the Moor with resistless fury,

and after a short combat, hurled him breathless to
the earth.

The Moors, already vanquished in spirit, could not
withstand the assault of men thus madly excited.
They soon gave way, and fled for the defile of the
Serrania de Ronda, where the body of troops had
been stationed to secure a retreat. These, seeing
them come galloping wildly up the defile, with christian
banners in pursuit, and the flash of weapons at
their deadly work, thought all Andalusia was upon
them, and fled without awaiting an attack. The
pursuit continued among glens and defiles; for the
christian warriors, eager for revenge, had no compassion
on the foe.

When the pursuit was over, the marques of Cadiz
and his followers reposed themselves upon the banks
of the Guadalete, where they divided the spoil.
Among this were found many rich corselets, helmets,
and weapons,—the Moorish trophies of the defeat in
the mountains of Malaga. Several were claimed by
their owners; others were known to have belonged
to noble cavaliers, who had been slain or taken
prisoners. There were several horses also, richly
caparisoned, which had pranced proudly with the
unfortunate warriors, as they sallied out of Antiquera
upon that fatal expedition. Thus the exultation of
the victors was dashed with melancholy, and many a
knight was seen lamenting over the helmet or corselet
of some loved companion in arms.

The good marques of Cadiz was resting under a
tree on the banks of the Guadalete, when the horse

which had belonged to his slaughtered brother Beltran
was brought to him. He laid his hand upon
the mane, and looked wistfully at the empty saddle.
His bosom heaved with violent agitation, and his lip
quivered and was pale. “Ay de mi! mi hermano!”
(wo is me! my brother!) was all that he said; for the
grief of a warrior has not many words. He looked
round on the field strewn with the bodies of the enemy,
and in the bitterness of his wo he felt consoled
by the idea that his brother had not been unrevenged.

Note.—“En el despojo de la Batalla se ireron muchas ricas
corazas e capacetes, i barberas de las que se habian perdido en el
Axarquia, e otras muchas armas, e algunes fueron conocidas de
sus Dueños que las havian dejado por fuir, e otras fueron conocidas,
que eran mui señaladas de hombres principales que havian
quedado muertos e cautivos, i fueron tornados muchos de los
mismos Cavallos con sus ricas sillas, de los que quedaron en la
Axarquia, e fueron conocidos cuios eran.”

Cura de Palacios, cap. 67.