11. CHAPTER XI.
Attack of the Marques of Cadiz upon Gibralfaro.
The marques of Cadiz was not a cavalier that
readily forgave an injury or an insult. On the morning
after the royal banquet, his batteries opened a
tremendous fire upon Gibralfaro. All day, the encampment
was wrapped in wreaths of smoke; nor
did the assault cease with the day—but, throughout
the night, there was an incessant flashing and thundering
of the lombards, and, the following morning,
the assault rather increased than slackened in fury.
The Moorish bulwarks were no proof against those
formidable engines. In a few days, the lofty tower
on which the taunting banner had been displayed,
was shattered; a smaller tower in its vicinity reduced
to ruins, and a great breach made in the intervening
walls.
Several of the hot-spirited cavaliers were eager
for storming the breach, sword in hand; others, more
cool and wary, pointed out the rashness of such an
attempt; for the Moors had worked indefatigably in
the night; they had digged a deep ditch within the
breach, and had fortified it with palisadoes and a
high breastwork. All, however, agreed that the
camp might safely be advanced near to the ruined
walls, and that it ought to be done so, in return for
the insolent defiance of the enemy.
The marques of Cadiz felt the temerity of the
measure, but he was unwilling to dampen the zeal
of these high-spirited cavaliers; and having chosen
the post of danger in the camp, it did not become
him to decline any service, merely because it might
appear perilous. He ordered his outposts, therefore,
to be advanced within a stone's-throw of the breach,
but exhorted the soldiers to maintain the utmost
vigilance.
The thunder of the batteries had ceased; the
troops, exhausted by two nights' fatigue and watchfulness,
and apprehending no danger from the dismantled
walls, were half of them asleep; the rest
were scattered about in negligent security. On a
sudden, upwards of two thousand Moors sallied forth
from the castle, led on by Alrahan Zenete, the principal
captain under Hamet. They fell with fearful
havoc upon the advanced guard, slaying many of
them in their sleep, and putting the rest to headlong
flight.
The marques was in his tent, about a bow-shot distance,
when he heard the tumult of the onset, and
beheld his men flying in confusion. He rushed forth,
followed by his standard-bearer. “Turn again, cavaliers!”
exclaimed he; “I am here, Ponce de Leon!
to the foe! to the foe!” The flying troops stopped
at hearing his well-known voice, rallied under his
banner, and turned upon the enemy. The encampment,
by this time, was roused; several cavaliers
from the adjoining stations had hastened to the scene
of action, with a number of Gallicians and soldiers
of the Holy Brotherhood. An obstinate and bloody
contest ensued; the ruggedness of the place, the
rocks, chasms, and declivities, broke it into numerous
combats: christian and Moor fought hand to
hand, with swords and daggers; and often, grappling
and struggling, rolled together down the precipices.
The banner of the marques was in danger of being
taken: he hastened to its rescue, followed by
some of his bravest cavaliers. They were surrounded
by the enemy, and several of them cut down. Don
Diego Ponce de Leon, brother to the marques, was
wounded by an arrow; and his son-in-law, Luis
Ponce, was likewise wounded: they succeeded, however,
in rescuing the banner, and bearing it off in
safety. The battle lasted for an hour; the height
was covered with killed and wounded, and the blood
flowed in streams down the rocks; at length, Alrahan
Zenete being disabled by the thrust of a lance,
the Moors gave way and retreated to the castle.
They now opened a galling fire from their battlements
and towers, approaching the breaches so as to
discharge their cross-bows and arquebusses into the
advanced guard of the encampment. The marques
was singled out; the shot fell thick about him, and
one passed through his buckler, and struck upon his
cuirass, but without doing him any injury. Every
one now saw the danger and inutility of approaching
the camp thus near to the castle; and those who had
counselled it, were now urgent that it should be
withdrawn. It was accordingly removed back to its
original ground, from which the marques had most
reluctantly advanced it. Nothing but his valor and
timely aid had prevented this attack on his outpost
from ending in a total rout of all that part of the
army.
Many cavaliers of distinction fell in this contest;
but the loss of none was felt more deeply than that
of Ortega de Prado, captain of escaladors. He was
one of the bravest men in the service; the same who
had devised the first successful blow of the war, the
storming of Alhama, where he was the first to plant
and mount the scaling-ladders. He had always been
high in the favor and confidence of the noble Ponce
de Leon, who knew how to appreciate and avail
himself of the merits of all able and valiant men.[1]
