8. CHAPTER VIII.
Advance of King Ferdinand against Malaga.
The army of Ferdinand advanced in lengthened
line, glittering along the foot of the mountains which
border the Mediterranean; while a fleet of vessels,
freighted with heavy artillery and warlike munitions,
kept pace with it at a short distance from the land,
covering the sea with a thousand gleaming sails.
When Hamet el Zegri saw this force approaching,
he set fire to the houses of the suburbs which adjoined
the walls, and sent forth three battalions to
encounter the advance guard of the enemy.
The christian army drew near to the city, at that
end where the castle and rocky height of Gibralfaro
defend the seaboard. Immediately opposite, at
about two bow-shots' distance, stood the castle; and
between it and the high chain of mountains, was a
steep and rocky hill, commanding a pass through
which the christians must march to penetrate to the
vega and surround the city. Hamet el Zegri ordered
the three battalions to take their stations, one on this
hill, another in the pass near the castle, and a third
on the side of the mountain near the sea.
A body of Spanish foot-soldiers, of the advance
guard, sturdy mountaineers of Gallicia, sprang forward
to climb the side of the height next the sea;
at the same time, a number of cavaliers and hidalgos
of the royal household, attacked the Moors who
guarded the pass below. The Moors defended their
posts with obstinate valor. The Gallicians were repeatedly
overpowered and driven down the hill, but
as often rallied, and being reinforced by the hidalgos
and cavaliers, returned to the assault. This obstinate
struggle lasted for six hours: the strife was of a deadly
kind, not merely with cross-bows and arquebusses,
but hand to hand, with swords and daggers; no
quarter was claimed or given, on either side—they
fought not to make captives, but to slay. It was but
the advance of the christian army, that was engaged;
so narrow was the pass along the coast, that the army
could proceed only in file: horse and foot, and beasts
of burden, were crowded one upon another, impeding
each other, and blocking up the narrow and rugged
defile. The soldiers heard the uproar of the
battle, the sound of trumpets, and the war-cries of
the Moors—but tried in vain to press forward to
the assistance of their companions.
At length a body of foot-soldiers of the Holy
Brotherhood climbed, with great difficulty, the steep
side of the mountain which overhung the pass, and
advanced with seven banners displayed. The Moors,
seeing this force above them, abandoned the pass in
despair. The battle was still raging on the height;
the Gallicians, though supported by Castilian troops
under Don Hurtado de Mendoza and Garcilasso de
la Vega, were severely pressed and roughly handled
by the Moors; at length a brave standard-bearer,
Luys Mazedo by name, threw himself into the midst
of the enemy, and planted his banner on the summit.
The Gallicians and Castilians, stimulated by this
noble self-devotion, followed him fighting desperately,
and the Moors were at length driven to their
castle of Gibralfaro.
[1]
This important height being taken, the pass lay
open to the army; but by this time evening was advancing,
and the host was too weary and exhausted
to seek proper situations for the encampment. The
king, attended by several grandees and cavaliers,
went the rounds at night, stationing outposts towards
the city, and guards and patrols to give the alarm
on the least movement of the enemy. All night the
christians lay upon their arms, lest there should be
some attempt to sally forth and attack them.
When the morning dawned, the king gazed with
admiration at this city, which he hoped soon to add
to his dominions. It was surrounded on one side by
vineyards, gardens, and orchards, which covered the
hills with verdure; on the other side, its walls were
bathed by the smooth and tranquil sea. Its vast and
lofty towers and prodigious castles, hoary with age,
yet unimpaired in strength, showed the labors of
magnanimous men in former times to protect their
favorite abode. Hanging gardens, groves of oranges,
citrons, and pomegranates, with tall cedars and
stately palms, were mingled with the stern battlements
and towers—bespeaking the opulence and
luxury that reigned within.
In the mean time, the christian army poured
through the pass, and, throwing out its columns and
extending its lines, took possession of every vantage-ground
around the city. King Ferdinand surveyed
the ground, and appointed the stations of the different
commanders.
The important mount which had cost so violent a
struggle, and faced the powerful fortress of Gibralfaro,
was given in charge to Roderigo Ponce de
Leon, marques of Cadiz, who, in all sieges, claimed
the post of danger. He had several noble cavaliers
with their retainers in his encampment, which consisted
of fifteen hundred horse and fourteen thousand
foot; and extended from the summit of the mount
to the margin of the sea, completely blocking up the
approach to the city on that side. From this post,
a line of encampments extended quite round the city
to the seaboard, fortified by bulwarks and deep
ditches; while a fleet of armed ships and galleys
stretched before the harbor; so that the place was
completely invested, by sea and land. The various
parts of the valley now resounded with the din of
preparation, and were filled with artificers preparing
warlike engines and munitions: armorers and smiths,
with glowing forges and deafening hammers; carpenters
and engineers, constructing machines wherewith
to assail the walls; stone-cutters, shaping stone balls
for the ordnance; and burners of charcoal, preparing
fuel for the furnaces and forges.
When the encampment was formed, the heavy
ordnance was landed from the ships, and mounted
in various parts of the camp. Five huge lombards
were placed on the mount commanded by the marques
of Cadiz, so as to bear upon the castle of Gibralfaro.
The Moors made strenuous efforts to impede
these preparations. They kept up a heavy fire from
their ordnance, upon the men employed in digging
trenches or constructing batteries, so that the latter
had to work principally in the night. The royal
tents had been stationed conspicuously, and within
reach of the Moorish batteries; but were so warmly
assailed, that they had to be removed behind a hill.
When the works were completed, the christian
batteries opened in return, and kept up a tremendous
cannonade; while the fleet, approaching the land,
assailed the city vigorously on the opposite side.
“It was a glorious and delectable sight,” observes
Fray Antonio Agapida, “to behold this infidel city
thus surrounded by sea and land, by a mighty christian
force. Every mound in its circuit was, as it
were, a little city of tents, bearing the standard of
some renowned Catholic warrior. Beside the warlike
ships and galleys which lay before the place, the
sea was covered with innumerable sails, passing and
repassing, appearing and disappearing, being engaged
in bringing supplies for the subsistence of the army.
It seemed a vast spectacle contrived to recreate the
eye, did not the vollying bursts of flame and smoke
from the ships, which seemed to lie asleep on the
quiet sea, and the thunder of ordnance from camp
and city, from tower and battlement, tell the deadly
warfare that was waging.
“At night, the scene was far more direful than in
the day. The cheerful light of the sun was gone;
there was nothing but the flashes of artillery, or the
baleful gleams of combustibles thrown into the city,
and the conflagration of the houses. The fire kept
up from the christian batteries was incessant; there
were seven great lombards in particular, called The
Seven Sisters of Ximenes, which did tremendous
execution. The Moorish ordnance replied in thunder
from the walls; Gibralfaro was wrapped in
volumes of smoke, rolling about its base; and Hamet
el Zegri and his Gomeres looked out with triumph
upon the tempest of war they had awakened. Truly
they were so many demons incarnate,” concludes
the pious Fray Antonio Agapida, “who were permitted
by Heaven to enter into and possess this infidel
city, for its perdition.”
