University of Virginia Library

26. CHAPTER XXVI.
Of the fortress of Alhama, and how wisely it was governed
by the Count de Tendilla.

In this part of his chronicle, the worthy father
Fray Antonio Agapida indulges in triumphant exultation
over the downfall of Zahara: Heaven sometimes
speaks (says he) through the mouths of false prophets,
for the confusion of the wicked. By the fall of this
fortress was the prediction of the santon of Granada
in some measure fulfilled, that “the ruins of Zahara
should fall upon the heads of the infidels.”

Our zealous chronicler scoffs at the Moorish alcayde,
who lost his fortress by surprise in broad daylight;
and contrasts the vigilance of the christian
governor of Alhama, the town taken in retaliation
for the storming of Zahara.

The important post of Alhama was at this time
confided by king Ferdinand to Don Inigo Lopez de
Mendoza, count of Tendilla, a cavalier of noble
blood, brother to the grand cardinal of Spain. He
had been instructed by the king, not merely to maintain
his post, but also to make sallies and lay waste
the surrounding country. His fortress was critically
situated. It was within seven leagues of Granada,
and at no great distance from the warlike city of
Loxa. It was nestled in the lap of the mountains,

commanding the high-road to Malaga and a view
over the extensive vega. Thus situated, in the heart
of the enemy's country, surrounded by foes ready to
assail him, and a rich country for him to ravage, it
behoved this cavalier to be for ever on the alert.
He was in fact an experienced veteran, a shrewd
and wary officer, and a commander amazingly prompt
and fertile in expedients.

On assuming the command, he found that the garrison
consisted but of one thousand men, horse and
foot. They were hardy troops, seasoned in rough
mountain campaigning, but reckless and dissolute, as
soldiers are apt to be when accustomed to predatory
warfare. They would fight hard for booty, and then
gamble it heedlessly away, or squander it in licentious
revelling. Alhama abounded with hawking, sharping,
idle hangers-on, eager to profit by the vices and follies
of the garrison. The soldiers were oftener gambling
and dancing beneath the walls, than keeping watch
upon the battlements; and nothing was heard, from
morning till night, but the noisy contest of cards and
dice, mingled with the sound of the bolero or fandango,
the drowsy strumming of the guitar, and the
rattling of the castanets; while often the whole was
interrupted by the loud brawl, and fierce and bloody
contest.

The count of Tendilla set himself vigorously to
reform these excesses; he knew that laxity of morals
is generally attended by neglect of duty, and that the
least breach of discipline in the exposed situation of
his fortress might be fatal. “Here is but a handful

of men,” said he; “it is necessary that each man
should be a hero.”

He endeavored to awaken a proper ambition in
the minds of his soldiers, and to instil into them the
high principles of chivalry. “A just war,” he observed,
“is often rendered wicked and disastrous by
the manner in which it is conducted; for the rightcousness
of the cause is not sufficient to sanction the
profligacy of the means, and the want of order and
subordination among the troops may bring ruin and
disgrace upon the best concerted plans.” But we
cannot describe the character and conduct of this
renowned commander in more forcible language than
that of Fray Antonio Agapida, excepting that the
pious father places in the foreground of his virtues
his hatred of the Moors. “The count de Tendilla,”
says he, “was a mirror of christian knighthood—
watchful, abstemious, chaste, devout, and thoroughly
filled with the spirit of the cause. He labored incessantly
and strenuously for the glory of the faith,
and the prosperity of their most catholic majesties;
and, above all, he hated the infidels with a pure and
holy hatred. This worthy cavalier discountenanced
all idleness, rioting, chambering, and wantonness,
among his soldiery. He kept them constantly to the
exercise of arms, making them adroit in the use of
their weapons and management of their steeds, and
prompt for the field at a moment's notice. He permitted
no sound of lute or harp, or song, or other
loose minstrelsy, to be heard in his fortress, debauching
the ear and softening the valor of the soldier; no

other music was allowed but the wholesome rolling
of the drum and braying of the trumpet, and such
like spirit-stirring instruments as fill the mind with
thoughts of iron war. All wandering minstrels, sharping
pedlars, sturdy trulls, and other camp trumpery,
were ordered to pack up their baggage, and were
drummed out of the gates of Alhama. In place of
such lewd rabble, he introduced a train of holy friars
to inspirit his people by exhortation, and prayer,
and choral chanting, and to spur them on to fight the
good fight of faith. All games of chance were prohibited,
except the game of war; and this he labored,
by vigilance and vigor, to reduce to a game of certainty.
Heaven smiled upon the efforts of this righteous
cavalier. His men became soldiers at all points,
and terrors to the Moors. The good count never set
forth on a ravage, without observing the rites of confession,
absolution, and communion, and obliging his
followers to do the same. Their banners were blessed
by the holy friars whom he maintained in Alhama;
and in this way success was secured to his arms, and
he was enabled to lay waste the land of the heathen.

The fortress of Alhama (continues Fray Antonio
Agapida) overlooked from its lofty site a great part
of the fertile vega, watered by the Cazin and the
Xenel: from this he made frequent sallies, sweeping
away the flocks and herds from the pasture, the laborer
from the field, and the convoy from the road;
so that it was said by the Moors, that a beetle could
not crawl across the vega without being seen by
count Tendilla. The peasantry, therefore, were fain

to betake themselves to watch-towers and fortified
hamlets, where they shut up their cattle, garnered
their corn, and sheltered their wives and children.
Even there they were not safe; the count would
storm these rustic fortresses with fire and sword;
make captives of their inhabitants; carry off the corn,
the oil, the silks, and cattle; and leave the ruins
blazing and smoking, within the very sight of Granada.

“It was a pleasing and refreshing sight,” continues
the good father, “to behold this pious knight and his
followers returning from one of these crusades, leaving
the rich land of the infidel in smoking desolation
behind them; to behold the long line of mules and
asses, laden with the plunder of the Gentiles—the
hosts of captive Moors, men, women, and children—
droves of sturdy beeves, lowing kine, and bleating
sheep; all winding up the steep acclivity to the gates
of Alhama, pricked on by the Catholic soldiery. His
garrison thus thrived on the fat of the land and the
spoil of the infidel; nor was he unmindful of the pious
fathers, whose blessings crowned his enterprises with
success. A large portion of the spoil was always
dedicated to the church; and the good friars were
ever ready at the gate to hail him on his return, and
receive the share allotted them. Beside these allotments,
he made many votive offerings, either in time
of peril or on the eve of a foray; and the chapels of
Alhama were resplendent with chalices, crosses, and
other precious gifts made by this Catholic cavalier.”

Thus eloquently does the venerable Fray Antonio
Agapida dilate in praise of the good count de Tendilla;

and other historians of equal veracity, but less
unction, agree in pronouncing him one of the ablest
of Spanish generals. So terrible in fact did he become
in the land, that the Moorish peasantry could not
venture a league from Granada or Loxa to labor in
the fields, without peril of being carried into captivity.
The people of Granada clamored against
Muley Aben Hassan, for suffering his lands to be
thus outraged and insulted, and demanded to have
this bold marauder shut up in his fortress. The old
monarch was roused by their remonstrances. He
sent forth powerful troops of horse, to protect the
country, during the season that the husbandmen
were abroad in the fields. These troops patrolled
in formidable squadrons in the neighborhood of Alhama,
keeping strict watch upon its gates; so that it
was impossible for the christians to make a sally,
without being seen and intercepted.

While Alhama was thus blockaded by a roving
force of Moorish cavalry, the inhabitants were
awakened one night by a tremendous crash, that
shook the fortress to its foundations. The garrison
flew to arms, supposing it some assault of the enemy.
The alarm proved to have been caused by the rupture
of a portion of the wall, which, undermined by
heavy rains, had suddenly given way, leaving a large
chasm yawning towards the plain.

The count de Tendilla was for a time in great
anxiety. Should this breach be discovered by the
blockading horsemen, they would arouse the country,
Granada and Loxa would pour out an overwhelming

force, and they would find his walls ready sapped for
an assault. In this fearful emergency, the count displayed
his noted talent for expedients. He ordered
a quantity of linen cloth to be stretched in front of
the breach, painted in imitation of stone, and indented
with battlements, so as at a distance to resemble
the other parts of the wall: behind this screen he
employed workmen, day and night, in repairing the
fracture. No one was permitted to leave the fortress,
lest information of its defenceless plight should be
carried to the Moor. Light squadrons of the enemy
were seen hovering about the plain, but never approached
near enough to discover the deception;
and thus, in the course of a few days, the wall was
rebuilt stronger than before.

There was another expedient of this shrewd veteran,
which greatly excites the marvel of Agapida.
“It happened,” he observes, “that this Catholic
cavalier at one time was destitute of gold and silver,
wherewith to pay the wages of his troops; and the
soldiers murmured greatly, seeing that they had not
the means of purchasing necessaries from the people
of the town. In this dilemma, what does this most
sagacious commander? He takes me a number of
little morsels of paper, on the which he inscribes
various sums, large and small, according to the nature
of the case, and signs me them with his own hand and
name. These did he give to the soldiery, in earnest
of their pay. `How!' you will say, `are soldiers to
be paid with scraps of paper?' Even so, I answer,
and well paid too, as I will presently make manifest:

for the good count issued a proclamation, ordering
the inhabitants of Alhama to take these morsels of
paper for the full amount thereon inscribed, promising
to redeem them at a future time with silver and
gold, and threatening severe punishment to all who
should refuse. The people, having full confidence
in his word, and trusting that he would be as willing
to perform the one promise as he certainly was able
to perform the other, took those curious morsels of
paper without hesitation or demur. Thus, by a subtle
and most miraculous kind of alchymy, did this Catholic
cavalier turn worthless paper into precious gold,
and make his late impoverished garrison abound in
money!”

It is but just to add, that the count de Tendilla
redeemed his promises, like a loyal knight; and this
miracle as it appeared in the eyes of Fray Antonio
Agapida, is the first instance on record of paper
money, which has since inundated the civilized world
with unbounded opulence.