CHAPTER LVI.
Attack of the Marquis of Cadiz upon Gibralfaro.
The Marquis 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 its fury. The
Moorish bulwarks were no proof against
these 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, working indefatigably
in the night, 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
so placed, in return for the insolent defiance
of the enemy.
The Marquis of Cadiz felt the temerity
of the measure; but he was unwilling to
damp 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 Abraham Zenete, the
principal captain under Hamet. They
fell with fearful havoc upon the advance
guard, slaying many of them in their
sleep, and putting the rest to headlong
flight. The marquis 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-bearers.
"Turn again, cavaliers!" exclaimed he;
"turn again! 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 marquis 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 marquis, 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, Abraham
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
crossbows and arquebuses into the advance
guard of the encampment. The
marquis 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 marquis had most reluctantly advanced
it. Nothing but his valour and
timely aid had prevented this attack 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 favour 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.[79]
