43. CHAPTER XLIII.
How King Ferdinand attacked Moclin, and of the strange
events that attended its capture.
“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
situated, it domineered, with its frowning battlements
and massive towers, 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 his 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 ammunitions and provisions; had ordered
trenches to be digged, 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, arquebusses
and cross-bows, were distributed in various
places, to keep up a fire into any breaches 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 engineers, as usual, discharged not merely
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 the kind, ascribed the destruction of the tower to a
miracle. Some who had seen the descent of the flaming
ball, imagined that 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.
[1]
Seeing heaven and earth as it were combined
against them, the Moors lost all heart: they 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.”[2]
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, discolored, and emaciated appearance, how
much they had suffered. Their hair and beards
were overgrown and shagged; they were wasted by
hunger, half naked, and in chains. She ordered that
they should be clothed and cherished, and money
furnished them to bear them to their homes.
[3]
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.
These 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 armor and devices, and were mourned over
by their companions who had shared the disasters
of that day.[4]
The queen had these remains piously collected,
as the relics 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 bones 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 and garnering 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 other saintly men, 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.
