University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.
How King Ferdinand laid siege to Velez Malaga.

Hitherto, the events of this renowned war have
been little else than a succession of brilliant but brief
exploits, such as sudden forays and wild skirmishes
among the mountains, or the surprisals of castles,
fortresses, and frontier towns. We approach now
to more important and prolonged operations, in
which ancient and mighty cities, the bulwarks of
Granada, were invested by powerful armies, subdued
by slow and regular sieges, and thus the capital left
naked and alone.

The glorious triumphs of the Catholic sovereigns
(says Fray Antonio Agapida) had resounded throughout
the east, and filled all heathenesse with alarm.
The Grand-Turk Bajazet II. and his deadly foe the
grand soldan of Egypt, suspending for a time their
bloody feuds, entered into a league to protect the
religion of Mahomet and the kingdom of Granada
from the hostilities of the christians. It was concerted
between them, that Bajazet should send a powerful
armada against the island of Sicily, then appertaining
to the Spanish crown, for the purpose of
distracting the attention of the Castilian sovereigns;
while, at the same time, great bodies of troops should
be poured into Granada, from the opposite coast of
Africa.

Ferdinand and Isabella received timely intelligence
of these designs. They resolved at once to carry the
war into the seaboard of Granada, to possess themselves
of its ports, and thus, as it were, to bar the
gates of the kingdom against all external aid. Malaga
was to be the main object of attack: it was the
principal sea-port of the kingdom, and almost necessary
to its existence. It had long been the seat of
opulent commerce, sending many ships to the coasts
of Syria and Egypt. It was also the great channel
of communication with Africa, through which were
introduced supplies of money, troops, arms, and
steeds, from Tunis, Tripoli, Fez, Tremezan, and
other Barbary powers. It was emphatically called,
therefore, “the hand and mouth of Granada.” Before
laying siege to this redoubtable city, however,
it was deemed necessary to secure the neighboring
city of Velez Malaga and its dependent places, which
might otherwise harass the besieging army.

For this important campaign, the nobles of the
kingdom were again summoned to take the field with
their forces, in the spring of 1487. The menaced
invasion of the infidel powers of the east, had
awakened new ardor in the bosoms of all true christian
knights; and so zealously did they respond to
the summons of the sovereigns, that an army of
twenty thousand cavalry and fifty thousand foot, the
flower of Spanish warriors, led by the bravest of
Spanish cavaliers, thronged the renowned city of
Cordova, at the appointed time.

On the night before this mighty host set forth

upon its march, an earthquake shook the city. The
inhabitants, awakened by the shaking of the walls
and rocking of the towers, fled to the courts and
squares, fearing to be overwhelmed by the ruins of
their dwellings. The earthquake was most violent
in the quarter of the royal residence, the site of the
ancient palace of the Moorish kings. Many looked
upon this as an omen of some impending evil; but
Fray Antonio Agapida, in that infallible spirit of
divination which succeeds an event, plainly reads in
it a presage that the empire of the Moors was about
to be shaken to its centre.

It was on Saturday, the eve of the Sunday of
Palms, (says a worthy and loyal chronicler of the
time,) that the most Catholic monarch departed with
his army, to render service to Heaven, and make war
upon the Moors.[1] Heavy rains had swelled all the
streams, and rendered the roads deep and difficult.
The king, therefore, divided his host into two bodies.
In one he put all the artillery, guarded by a strong
body of horse, and commanded by the Master of
Alcantara and Martin Alonzo, Senior of Montemayor.
This division was to proceed by the road
through the valleys, where pasturage abounded for
the oxen which drew the ordnance.

The main body of the army was led by the king
in person. It was divided into numerous battalions,
each commanded by some distinguished cavalier.
The king took the rough and perilous road of the

mountains, and few mountains are more rugged and
difficult than those of Andalusia. The roads are
mere mule-paths, straggling amidst rocks and along
the verge of precipices, clambering vast craggy
heights, or descending into frightful chasms and
ravines, with scanty and uncertain foothold for either
man or steed. Four thousand pioneers were sent in
advance, under the alcayde de los Donzeles, to conquer,
in some degree, the asperities of the road.
Some had pickaxes and crowbars to break the rocks,
others had implements to construct bridges over the
mountain torrents, while it was the duty of others to
lay stepping-stones in the smaller streams. As the
country was inhabited by fierce Moorish mountaineers,
Don Diego de Castrillo was dispatched, with a
body of horse and foot, to take possession of the
heights and passes. Notwithstanding every precaution,
the royal army suffered excessively on its march.
At one time, there was no place to encamp, for five
leagues of the most toilsome and mountainous country;
and many of the beasts of burden sunk down,
and perished on the road.

It was with the greatest joy, therefore, that the
royal army emerged from these stern and frightful
defiles, and came to where they looked down upon
the vega of Velez Malaga. The region before them
was one of the most delectable to the eye, that ever
was ravaged by an army. Sheltered from every rude
blast by a screen of mountains, and sloping and expanding
to the south, this lovely valley was quickened
by the most generous sunshine, watered by the

silver meanderings of the Velez, and refreshed by
cooling breezes from the Mediterranean. The sloping
hills were covered with vineyards and olive-trees;
the distant fields waved with grain, or were
verdant with pasturage; while around the city were
delightful gardens, the favorite retreats of the Moors,
where their white pavilions gleamed among groves
of oranges, citrons and pomegranates, and were surmounted
by stately palms—those plants of southern
growth, bespeaking a generous climate and a cloudless
sky.

In the upper part of this delightful valley, the city
of Velez Malaga reared its warrior battlements in
stern contrast to the landscape. It was built on the
declivity of a steep and insulated hill, and strongly
fortified by walls and towers. The crest of the hill
rose high above the town, into a mere crag, inaccessible
on every other side, and crowned by a powerful
castle, which domineered over the surrounding country.
Two suburbs swept down into the valley, from
the skirts of the town, and were defended by bulwarks
and deep ditches. The vast ranges of gray
mountains, often capped with clouds, which rose to
the north, were inhabited by a hardy and warlike
race, whose strong fortresses of Comares, Camillas,
Competa, and Benemarhorga, frowned down from
cragged heights.

At the time that the christian host arrived in sight
of this valley, a squadron was hovering on the
smooth sea before it, displaying the banner of Castile.
This was commanded by the count of Trevento,

and consisted of four armed galleys, conveying
a number of caravels, laden with supplies for
the army.

After surveying the ground, king Ferdinand encamped
on the side of a mountain which advanced
close to the city, and which was the last of a rugged
sierra, or chain of heights, that extended quite to
Granada. On the summit of this mountain, and
overlooking the camp, was a Moorish town, powerfully
fortified, called Bentomiz, and which, from its
vicinity, had been considered capable of yielding
great assistance to Velez Malaga. Several of the
generals remonstrated with the king, for choosing a
post so exposed to assaults from the mountaineers.
Ferdinand replied, that he should thus cut off all communication
between the town and the city; and that
as to the danger, his soldiers must keep the more
vigilant guard against surprise.

King Ferdinand rode forth, attended by several
cavaliers and a small number of cuirassiers, appointing
the various stations of the camp. While a body
of foot-soldiers were taking possession, as an advanced
guard, of an important height which overlooked
the city, the king retired to a tent to take
refreshment. While at table, he was startled by a
sudden uproar, and, looking forth, beheld his soldiers
flying before a superior force of the enemy. The king
had on no other armor but a cuirass; seizing a lance,
however, he sprang upon his horse and galloped to
protect the fugitives, followed by his handful of
knights and cuirassiers. When the Spaniards saw

the king hastening to their aid, they turned upon
their pursuers. Ferdinand, in his eagerness, threw
himself into the midst of the foe. One of his
grooms was killed beside him; but, before the Moor
who slew him could escape, the king transfixed him
with his lance. He then sought to draw his sword,
which hung at his saddle-bow—but in vain. Never
had he been exposed to such peril;—he was surrounded
by the enemy, without a weapon wherewith
to defend himself.

In this moment of awful jeopardy, the marques of
Cadiz, the count de Cabra, the adelantado of Murcia,
with two other cavaliers, named Garcilasso de
la Vega and Diego de Atayde, came galloping to the
scene of action, and, surrounding the king, made a
loyal rampart of their bodies against the assaults of
the Moors. The horse of the marques was pierced
by an arrow, and that worthy cavalier exposed to
imminent danger; but, with the aid of his valorous
companions, he quickly put the enemy to flight, and
pursued them, with slaughter, to the very gates of
the city.

When those loyal warriors returned from the pursuit,
they remonstrated with the king for exposing
his life in personal conflict, seeing that he had so
many valiant captains whose business it was to fight.
They reminded him that the life of a prince was the
life of his people, and that many a brave army was
lost by the loss of its commander. They enacted
him, therefore, in future, to protect them with the

force of his mind in the cabinet, rather than of his
arm in the field.

Ferdinand acknowledged the wisdom of their advice,
but declared that he could not see his people in
peril without venturing his person to assist them:—
a reply (says the old chroniclers) which delighted
the whole army, inasmuch as they saw that he not
only governed them as a good king, but protected
them as a valiant captain. Ferdinand, however, was
conscious of the extreme peril to which he had been
exposed, and made a vow never again to venture into
battle without having his sword girt to his side.[2]

When this achievement of the king was related to
Isabella, she trembled amidst her joy at his safety;
and afterwards, in memorial of the event, she granted
to Velez Malaga, as the arms of the city, the figure
of the king on horseback, with a groom lying dead
at his feet, and the Moors flying.[3]

The camp was formed, but the artillery was yet
on the road, advancing with infinite labor, at the
rate of merely a league a day; for heavy rains had
converted the streams of the valleys into raging
torrents, and completely broken up the roads. In
the mean time, king Ferdinand ordered an assault on
the suburbs of the city. They were carried, after a
sanguinary conflict of six hours, in which many
christian cavaliers were killed and wounded, and,
among the latter, Don Alvaro of Portugal, son of the

duke of Braganza. The suburbs were then fortified
towards the city, with trenches and palisades, and
garrisoned by a chosen force, under Don Fadrique
de Toledo. Other trenches were digged round the
city, and from the suburbs to the royal camp, so as
to cut off all communication with the surrounding
country.

Bodies of troops were also sent to take possession
of the mountain passes, by which the supplies for
the army had to be brought. The mountains, however,
were so steep and rugged, and so full of defiles
and lurking-places, that the Moors could sally forth
and retreat in perfect security; frequently swooping
down upon christian convoys, and bearing off both
booty and prisoners to their strong-holds. Sometimes
the Moors would light fires at night, on the sides of
the mountains, which would be answered by fires
from the watch-towers and fortresses. By these
signals, they would concert assaults upon the christian
camp, which, in consequence, was obliged to be
continually on the alert, and ready to fly to arms.

King Ferdinand flattered himself that the manifestation
of his force had struck sufficient terror into
the city, and that by offers of clemency it might be
induced to capitulate. He wrote a letter, therefore,
to the commanders, promising, in case of immediate
surrender, that all the inhabitants should be permitted
to depart with their effects; but threatening them
with fire and sword, if they persisted in defence.
This letter was dispatched by a cavalier named
Carvagal, who, putting it on the end of a lance gave

it to the Moors who were on the walls of the city.
The commanders replied, that the king was too noble
and magnanimous to put such a threat in execution,
and that they should not surrender, as they knew the
artillery could not be brought to the camp, and they
were promised succor by the king of Granada.

At the same time that he received this reply, the
king learnt that at the strong town of Comares, upon
a height about two leagues distant from the camp, a
large number of warriors had assembled from the
Axarquia, the same mountains in which the christian
cavaliers had been massacred in the beginning
of the war; others were daily expected, for this
rugged sierra was capable of furnishing fifteen thousand
fighting men.

King Ferdinand felt that his army, thus disjointed,
and inclosed in an enemy's country, was in a perilous
situation, and that the utmost discipline and vigilance
were necessary. He put the camp under the
strictest regulations, forbidding all gaming, blasphemy,
or brawl, and expelling all loose women and
their attendant bully ruffians, the usual fomenters of
riot and contention among soldiery. He ordered
that none should sally forth to skirmish, without permission
from their commanders; that none should
set fire to the woods on the neighboring mountains;
and that all word of security given to Moorish places
or individuals, should be inviolably observed. These
regulations were enforced by severe penalties, and
had such salutary effect, that, though a vast host of
various people was collected together, not an opprobrious

epithet was heard, nor a weapon drawn in
quarrel.

In the mean time, the cloud of war went on,
gathering about the summits of the mountains; multitudes
of the fierce warriors of the sierra descended
to the lower heights of Bentomiz, which overhung
the camp, intending to force their way to the city.
A detachment was sent against them, which, after
sharp fighting, drove them to the higher cliffs of the
mountain, where it was impossible to pursue them.

Ten days had elapsed since the encampment of
the army, yet still the artillery had not arrived. The
lombards and other heavy ordnance were left in
despair, at Antiquera; the rest came groaning slowly
through the narrow valleys, which were filled with
long trains of artillery, and cars laden with munitions.
At length part of the smaller ordnance arrived within
half a league of the camp, and the christians were
animated with the hopes of soon being able to make
a regular attack upon the fortifications of the city.