University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XCIII.

The royal encampment lay at such a
distance from Granada, that the general
aspect of the city only could be seen, as
it rose gracefully from the vega, covering
the sides of the hills with palaces and
towers. Queen Isabella had expressed
an earnest desire to behold, nearer at
hand, a place, the beauty of which was
so renowned throughout the world; and
the Marquis of Cadiz, with his accustomed
courtesy, prepared a great military
escort and guard, to protect her and the
ladies of the court, while they enjoyed
this perilous gratification.

It was on the morning after the event
recorded in the preceding chapter, that
a magnificent and powerful train issued
forth from the Christian camp. The
advance guard was composed of legions
of cavalry, heavily armed, that looked
like moving masses of polished steel.
Then came the king and queen, with the
prince and princesses, and the ladies of
the court, surrounded by the royal bodyguard,
sumptuously arrayed, composed
of the sons of the most illustrious houses
of Spain. After these was the rear-guard,
composed of a powerful force of horse
and foot; for the flower of the army
sallied forth that day. The Moors gazed
with fearful admiration at this glorious
pageant, wherein the pomp of the court
was mingled with the terrors of the camp.
It moved along in a radiant line across
the vega, to the melodious thunders of
martial music; while banner, and plume,
and silken scarf, and rich brocade, gave
a gay and gorgeous relief to the grim
visage of iron war that lurked beneath.

The army moved towards the hamlet
of Zubia, built on the skirts of the mountains,
to the left of Granada, and commanding
a view of the Alhambra, and
the most beautiful quarter of the city.
As they approached the hamlet, the
Marquis of Villena, the Count Ureña,
and Don Alonso de Aguilar, filed off
with their battalions, and were soon seen
glittering along the side of the mountain
above the village. In the mean time, the
Marquis of Cadiz, the Count de Tendilla,
the Count de Cabra, and Don Alonso
Fernandez, senior of Alcandrete and
Montemayor, drew up their forces in
battle array on the plain below the hamlet,
presenting a living barrier of loyal
chivalry, between the sovereigns and the
city. Thus securely guarded, the royal
party alighted, and entering one of the
houses of the hamlet, which had been
prepared for their reception, enjoyed a
full view of the city from its terraced
roof. The ladies of the court gazed with
delight at the red towers of the Alhambra,
rising from amidst shady groves,
anticipating the time when the Catholic
sovereigns should be enthroned within its
walls, and its courts shine with the splendour
of Spanish chivalry. "The reverend
prelates and holy friars, who always
surrounded the queen, looked with serene
satisfaction," says Fray Antonio Agapida,
"at this modern Babylon; enjoying
the triumph that awaited them, when
those mosques and minarets should be
converted into churches, and goodly
priests and bishops should succeed to the
infidel alfaquis."

When the Moors beheld the Christians
thus drawn forth in full array in the
plain, they supposed it was to offer them
battle, and they hesitated not to accept
it. In a little while the queen beheld a
body of Moorish cavalry pouring into the
vega, the riders managing their fleet and
fiery steeds with admirable address.
They were richly armed, and clothed in
the most brilliant colours, and the caparisons
of their steeds flamed with gold
and embroidery. This was the favourite
squadron of Muza, composed of the
flower of the youthful cavaliers of Granada:
others succeeded; some heavily
armed, some á la gineta, with lance and
buckler, and lastly came the legions of
foot-soldiers, with arquebuse and crossbow
and spear and cimeter.

When the queen saw the army issuing
from the city, she sent to the Marquis of
Cadiz and forbade any attack upon the
enemy, or the acceptance of any challenge
to a skirmish; for she was loath
that her curiosity should cost the life of
a single human being.

The marquis promised to obey, though
sorely against his will; and it grieved
the spirit of the Spanish cavaliers to be
obliged to remain with sheathed swords,
while bearded by the foe. The Moors
could not comprehend the meaning of
this inaction of the Christians, after having
apparently invited a battle. They
sallied several times from their ranks,
and approached near enough to discharge
their arrows, but the Christians were immovable.
Many of the Moorish horsemen
galloped close to the Christian ranks,
brandishing their lances and cimeters,
and defying various cavaliers to single
combat: but King Ferdinand had rigorously
prohibited all duels of the kind,
and they dared not transgress his orders
under his very eye.

While this grim and reluctant tranquillity
prevailed along the Christian
line, there rose a mingled shout and

sound of laughter, near the gate of the
city. A Moorish horseman, armed at all
points, issued forth, followed by a rabble,
who drew back as he approached the
scene of danger. The Moor was more
robust and brawny than was common
with his countrymen. His visor was
closed; he bore a large buckler and
ponderous lance; his cimeter was of a
Damascus blade, and his richly ornamented
dagger was wrought by an artificer
of Fez. He was known by his
device to be Tarfe, the most insolent, yet
valiant of the Moslem warriors; the same
who had hurled into the royal camp his
lance, inscribed to the queen. As he
rode slowly along in front of the army,
his very steed, prancing with fiery eye
and distended nostril, seemed to breathe
defiance to the Christians. But what
were the feelings of the Spanish cavaliers,
when they beheld tied to the tail of
his steed, and dragged in the dust, the
very inscription, Ave Maria, which Fernando
Perez del Pulgar had affixed to
the door of the mosque! A burst of
horror and indignation broke forth from
the army. Fernando del Pulgar was not
at hand to maintain his previous achievement,
but one of his young companions
in arms, Garcilasso de la Vega by name,
putting spurs to his horse, galloped to the
hamlet of Zubia, threw himself on his
knees before the king, and besought permission
to accept the defiance of this insolent
infidel, and to revenge the insult
offered to our blessed Lady. The request
was too pious to be refused: Garcilasso
remounted his steed; he closed his
helmet, graced by four sable plumes;
grasped his buckler, of Flemish workmanship,
and his lance, of matchless
temper, and defied the haughty Moor in
the midst of his career. A combat took
place, in view of the two armies, and of
the Castilian court. The Moor was
powerful in wielding his weapons, and
dexterous in managing his steed. He
was of larger frame than Garcilasso, and
more completely armed; and the Christians
trembled for their champion. The
shock of their encounter was dreadful;
their lances were shivered, and sent up
splinters in the air. Garcilasso was
thrown back in his saddle, and his horse
made a wide career before he could recover
his position, gather up the reins,
and return to the conflict. They now
encountered each other with swords.
The Moor circled round his opponent as
a hawk circles when about to make a
swoop; his Arabian steed obeyed his
rider with matchless quickness; at every
attack of the infidel, it seemed as if the
Christian knight must sink beneath his
flashing cimeter. But if Garcilasso was
inferior to him in power, he was superior
in agility; many of his blows he parried,
others he received on his Flemish buckler,
which was proof against the Damascus
blade. The blood streamed from
numerous wounds, received by either
warrior. The Moor, seeing his antagonist
exhausted, availed himself of his
superior force; and, grappling, endeavoured
to wrest him from his saddle.
They both fell to the earth; the Moor
placed his knee on the breast of his victim,
and, brandishing his dagger, aimed
a blow at his throat. A cry of despair
was uttered by the Christian warriors,
when suddenly they beheld the Moor
rolling lifeless in the dust! Garcilasso
had shortened his sword, and, as his adversary
raised his arm to strike, had
pierced him to the heart. "It was a
singular and miraculous victory," says
Fray Antonio Agapida; "but the Christian
knight was armed by the sacred
nature of his cause, and the holy Virgin
gave him strength, like another David,
to slay this gigantic champion of the
Gentiles."

The laws of chivalry were observed
throughout the combat; no one interfered
on either side. Garcilasso now despoiled
his adversary; then, rescuing the holy
inscription of "Ave Maria" from its
degrading situation, he elevated it on the
point of his sword, and bore it off as a
signal of triumph, amidst the rapturous
shouts of the Christian army.

The sun had now reached the meridian,
and the hot blood of the Moors was
inflamed by its rays, and by the sight of
the defeat of their champion. Muza
ordered two pieces of ordnance to open
a fire upon the Christians. A confusion
was produced in one part of their ranks.
Muza called the chiefs of the army: "Let
us waste no more time in empty challenges,
let us charge upon the enemy:

he who assaults has always an advantage
in the combat." So saying, he
rushed forward, followed by a large body
of horse and foot, and charged so furiously
upon the advance guard of the
Christians, that he drove it in upon the
battalion of the Marquis of Cadiz. The
gallant marquis now considered himself
absolved from all further obedience to the
queen's commands. He gave the signal
to attack. "Santiago!" was shouted
along the line, and he pressed forward to
the encounter, with his battalion of twelve
hundred lances. The other cavaliers
followed his example, and the battle instantly
became general.

When the king and queen beheld the
armies thus rushing to the combat, they
threw themselves on their knees, and implored
the Holy Virgin to protect her
faithful warriors. The prince and princesses,
the ladies of the court, and the
prelates and friars who were present, did
the same; and the effect of the prayers
of these illustrious and saintly persons
was immediately apparent. The fierceness
with which the Moors had rushed to
the attack was suddenly cooled; they
were bold and adroit for a skirmish, but
unequal to the veteran Spaniards in the
open field. A panic seized upon the
foot-soldiers; they turned, and took to
flight. Muza and his cavaliers in vain
endeavoured to rally them. Some sought
refuge in the mountains; but the greater
part fled to the city, in such confusion,
that they overturned and trampled upon
each other. The Christians pursued
them to the very gates. Upwards of two
thousand were killed, wounded, or taken
prisoners, and the two pieces of ordnance
were brought off, as trophies of the
victory. Not a Christian lance but was
bathed that day in the blood of an infidel.[121]

Such was the brief but sanguinary
action, which was known among the
Christian warriors by the name of the
Queen's Skirmish; for when the Marquis
of Cadiz waited upon her majesty, to
apologize for breaking her commands, he
attributed the victory entirely to her presence.
The queen, however, insisted,
that all was owing to her troops being
led on by so valiant a commander. Her
majesty had not yet recovered from her
agitation at beholding so terrible a scene
of bloodshed; though certain veterans
present pronounced it as gay and gentle
a fight as they had ever witnessed.

To commemorate this victory, the
queen afterwards erected a monastery in
the village of Zubia, dedicated to St.
Francisco; which still exists, and in its
garden is a laurel planted by the hands of
her majesty.[122]