University of Virginia Library

APPENDIX.

FATE OF BOABDIL EL CHICO.

The Chronicle of the Conquest of
Granada is finished: but the reader may
be desirous of knowing the subsequent
fortunes of some of the principal personages.
The unfortunate Boabdil retired
to the valley of Porchena, where a small
but fertile territory had been allotted him;
comprising several towns, with all their
rights and revenues. Great estates had
likewise been bestowed on his vizier,
Jusef Aben Comixa, and his valiant relation
and friend Jusef Venegas, both of
whom resided near him. Were it in the
heart of man, in the enjoyment of present
competence, to forget past splendour,
Boabdil might at length have been happy.
Dwelling in the bosom of a delightful
valley, surrounded by obedient vassals,
devoted friends, and a loving family, he
might have looked back upon his past
career as upon a troubled and terrific
dream; and might have thanked his

stars, that he had at length awaked to
sweet and tranquil security. But the
dethroned prince could never forget, that
he had once been a monarch; and the
remembrance of the regal splendours of
Granada made all present comforts contemptible
in his eyes. No exertions were
spared by Ferdinand and Isabella, to induce
him to embrace the catholic religion:
but he remained true to the faith of his
fathers; and it added not a little to his
humiliation, to live a vassal under Christian
sovereigns.

It is probable, that his residence in
the kingdom was equally irksome to the
politic Ferdinand, who could not feel perfectly
secure in his newly-conquered territories,
while there was one within their
bounds, who might revive pretensions
to the throne. A private bargain was
therefore made, in the year 1496, between
Ferdinand and Jusef Aben Comixa; in
which the latter, as vizier of Boabdil, undertook
to dispose of his master's scanty
territory for eighty thousand ducats of
gold. This, it is affirmed, was done
without the consent or knowledge of
Boabdil; but the vizier probably thought
he was acting for the best. The shrewd
Ferdinand does not appear to have made
any question about the right of the vizier
to make the sale; but paid the money
with secret exultation. Jusef Aben Comixa
loaded the treasure upon mules, and departed
joyfully for the Alpuxarras. He
spread the money in triumph before
Boabdil. "Señor," said he, "I have observed,
that, as long as you live here, you
are exposed to constant peril. The Moors
are rash and irritable. They may make
some sudden insurrection, elevate your
standard as a pretext, and thus overwhelm
you and your friends with utter ruin. I
have observed, also, that you pine away
with grief; being continually reminded
in this country, that you were once its
sovereign, but never more must hope to
reign. I have put an end to these evils.
Your territory is sold. Behold the price
of it. With this gold, you may buy far
greater possessions in Africa, where you
may live in honour and security."

When Boabdil heard these words, he
burst into a sudden transport of rage;
and, drawing his cimeter, would have sacrificed
the officious Jusef on the spot, had
not the attendants interfered, and hurried
the vizier from his presence.

Boabdil was not of a vindictive spirit,
and his anger soon passed away. He
saw, that the evil was done; and he
knew the spirit of the politic Ferdinand
too well, to hope that he would retract
the bargain. Gathering together the
money, therefore, and all his jewels and
precious effects, he departed with his
family and household for a port, where a
vessel had been carefully provided by the
Castilian king to transport them to Africa.

A crowd of his former subjects witnessed
his embarkation. As the sails
were unfurled, and swelled to the breeze,
and the vessel parted from the land, the
spectators would fain have given him a
parting cheering; but the humble state of
their once proud sovereign forced itself
upon their minds, and the ominous surname
of his youth rose involuntarily to
their tongues. "Farewell, Boabdil! Allah
preserve thee, El Zogoybi!" burst
spontaneously from their lips. The unlucky
appellation sank into the heart of
the expatriated monarch; and tears
dimmed his eyes, as the snowy summits
of the mountains of Granada gradually
faded from his view.

He was received with welcome at the
court of his relation, Muley Ahmed, King
of Fez; and resided for many years in
his territories. How he passed his life,
whether repining or resigned, history
does not mention. The last we find recorded
of him is in the year 1526, thirty-four
years after the surrender of Granada,
when he followed the King of Fez to the
field to quell the rebellion of two brothers,
named Xerifes. The armies came in
sight of each other on the banks of Guadiswed,
at the ford of Bacuba. The river
was deep; the banks were high and
broken. For three days the armies remained
firing at each other across the
stream, neither party venturing to attempt
the dangerous ford.

At length the King of Fez divided his
army into three battalions; the first led
on by his son and by Boabdil el Chico.
They boldly dashed across the ford,
scrambled up the opposite bank, and attempted
to keep the enemy employed,
until the other battalions should have
time to cross. The rebel army, however,

attacked them with such fury, that the
son of the King of Fez and several of the
bravest alcaydes were slain upon the spot,
and multitudes driven back into the river,
which was already crowded with passing
troops. A dreadful confusion took place;
the horse trampled upon the foot; the
enemy pressed on them with fearful
slaughter; those who escaped the sword
perished by the stream. The river was
choked by the dead bodies of men and
horses, and by the scattered baggage of
the army. In this scene of horrible carnage
fell Boabdil, truly called El Zogoybi,
or the unlucky: "an instance," says the
ancient chronicler, "of the scornful
caprice of fortune; dying in defence of
the kingdom of another, after wanting
spirit to die in defence of his own."[131]

Note.—A portrait of Boabdil El Chico
is to be seen in the picture-gallery of the
Generalife. He is represented with a
mild, handsome face, a fair complexion,
and yellow hair. His dress is of yellow
brocade, relieved with black velvet, and
he has a black velvet cap, surmounted
with a crown. In the armoury of Madrid
are two suits of armour, said to have belonged
to him, one of solid steel, with
very little ornament; the morion closed.
From the proportions of these suits of
armour, he must have been of full stature
and vigorous form.

DEATH
OF
THE MARQUIS OF CADIZ.

The renowned Roderigo Ponce de
Leon, Marquis Duke of Cadiz, was
unquestionably the most distinguished
among the cavaliers of Spain, for his
zeal, enterprise, and heroism, in the
great crusade of Granada. He began
the war by the capture of Alhama; he
was engaged in almost every inroad and
siege of importance during its continuance;
and he was present at the surrender
of the capital, which was the
closing scene of the conquest. The renown
he thus acquired was sealed by
his death, in the forty-eighth year of his
age, which happoned almost immediately
at the close of his triumphs, and before a
leaf of his laurels had time to wither.
He died at his palace, in the city of
Seville, on the twenty-seventh day of
August, 1492, but a few months after
the surrender of Granada, and of an
illness caused by the exposure and fatigues
he had undergone in this memorable
war. That honest chronicler, Andres
Bernaldes, the curate of Los Palacios,
who was a contemporary of the marquis,
draws his portrait from actual knowledge
and observation. "He was universally
cited," says he, "as the most
perfect model of chivalrous virtue of the
age. He was temperate, chaste, and
rigidly devout; a benignant commander,
a valiant defender of his vassals, a great
lover of justice, and an enemy to all
flatterers, liars, robbers, traitors, and
poltroons. His ambition was of a lofty
kind; he sought to distinguish himself
and his family by heroic and resounding
deeds, and to increase the patrimony
of his ancestors by the acquisition of
castles, domains, vassals, and other
princely possessions. His recreations
were all of a warlike nature: he delighted
in geometry, as applied to fortifications,
and spent much time and treasure
in erecting and repairing fortresses.
He relished music, but of a military
kind; the sound of clarious and sackbuts,
of drums and trumpets. Like a
true cavalier, he was a protector of the
sex on all occasions, and an injured
woman never applied to him in vain for
redress. His prowess was so well
known, and his courtesy to the fair,
that the ladies of the court, when they
accompanied the queen to the wars,
rejoiced to find themselves under his
protection; for, wherever his banner
was displayed, the Moors dreaded to adventure.
He was a faithful and devoted
friend, but a formidable enemy; for he
was slow to forgive, and his vengeance
was persevering and terrible.

The death of this good cavalier spread
grief and lamentation throughout all
ranks; for he was universally honoured
and beloved. His relations, dependents,
and companions in arms, put on mourning
for his loss; and so numerous were

they, that half of Seville was clad in
black. None, however, deplored his
death more deeply and sincerely than
his friend and chosen companion, Don
Alonso de Aguilar.

The funeral ceremonies were of the
most solemn and sumptuous kind. The
body of the marquis was arrayed in a
costly shirt, a doublet of brocade, a sayo,
or long robe of black velvet, a marlota, or
Moorish tunic of brocade, that reached to
the feet, and scarlet stockings. His sword,
superbly gilt, was girded to his side, as he
used to wear it when in the field. Thus
magnificently attired, the body was enclosed
in a coffin, which was covered
with black velvet, and decorated with a
cross of white damask. It was then
placed on a sumptuous bier, in the centre
of the great hall of the palace.

Here the duchess made great lamentation
over the body of her lord, in which
she was joined by her train of damsels
and attendants, as well as by the pages
and esquires, and innumerable vassals of
the marquis.

In the close of the evening, just before
the "Ave Maria," the funeral train issued
from the palace. Ten banners were
borne around the bier, the particular
trophies of the marquis, won from the
Moors by his valour in individual enterprises,
before King Ferdinand had commenced
the war of Granada. The procession
was swelled by an immense train
of bishops, priests, and friars of different
orders, together with the civil and military
authorities, and all the chivalry of
Seville; headed by the Count of Cifuentes,
at that time intendente, or commander of
the city. It moved slowly and solemnly
through the strects, stopping occasionally,
and chanting litanies and responses.
Two hundred and forty waxen tapers
shed a light like the day about the bier.
The balconies and windows were crowded
with ladies, who shed tears as the
funeral train passed by; while the women
of the lower classes were loud in their
lamentations, as if bewailing the loss of a
father or a brother. On approaching
the convent of St. Augustine, the monks
came forth with the cross and tapers, and
eight censers, and conducted the body
into the church, where it lay in state until
all the vigils were performed by the
different orders, after which it was deposited
in the family-tomb of the Ponces in
the same church, and the ten banners
were suspended over the sepulchre.[132]

His tomb, with the banners mouldering
above it, remained for ages an object
of veneration with all who had read or
heard of his virtues and achievements.
In the year 1810, however, the chapel
was sacked by the French, its altars
overturned, and the sepulchres of the
family of the Ponces shattered to pieces.
The present Duchess of Benavente, the
worthy descendant of this illustrious and
heroic line, has since piously collected
the ashes of her ancestors, restored the
altar, and repaired the chapel. The
sepulchres, however, were utterly destroyed,
and an inscription of gold letters,
on the wall of the chapel, to the right of
the altar, is now all that denotes the place
of sepulture of the brave Roderigo Ponce
de Leon.

THE LEGEND
OF THE
DEATH OF DON ALONSO DE
AGUILAR.

To such as feel an interest in the
fortunes of the valiant Don Alonso de
Aguilar, the chosen friend and companion
in arms of Ponce de Leon, Marquis of
Cadiz, and one of the most distinguished
heroes of the war of Granada, a few
particulars of his remarkable fate will
not be unacceptable. They are found
among the manuscripts of the worthy
Padre Fray Antonio Agapida, and appear
to have been appended to his chronicle.

For several years after the conquest of
Granada, the country remained feverish
and unquiet. The zealous efforts of the
catholic clergy to effect the conversion of
the infidels, and the pious coercion used
for that purpose by government, exasperated
the stubborn Moors of the mountains.
Several zealous missionaries were
maltreated, and, in the town of Dayrin,
two of them were seized, and exhorted,
with many menaces, to embrace the

Moslem faith. On their resolutely refusing
they were killed with staffs and
stones, by the Moorish women and children,
and their bodies burnt to ashes.[133]

Upon this event, a body of Christian
cavaliers assembled in Andalusia, to the
number of eight hundred; and, without
waiting for orders from the king, revenged
the death of these martyrs, by plundering
and laying waste the Moorish towns and
villages. The Moors fled to the mountains,
and their cause was espoused by
many of their nation, who inhabited those
rugged regions. The storm of rebellion
began to gather, and mutter its thunders
in the Alpuxarras. They were echoed
from the Serrania of Ronda, ever ready
for rebellion; but the strongest hold of
the insurgents was in the Sierra Vermeja,
or chain of red mountains, lying near
the sea, the savage rocks and precipices
of which may be seen from Gibraltar.

When King Ferdinand heard of these
tumults, he issued a proclamation, ordering
all the Moors of the insurgent
regions to leave them within ten days,
and repair to Castile; giving secret instructions,
however, that those, who
should voluntarily embrace the Christian
faith, might be permitted to remain. At
the same time he ordered Don Alonso
de Aguilar, and the Counts of Ureña and
Cifuentes, to march against the rebels.

Don Alonso de Aguilar was at Cordova
when he received the commands of the
king. "What force is alotted us for this
expedition?" said he. On being told, he
perceived that the number of troops was
far from adequate. "When a man is
dead," said he, "we send four men into
his house to bring forth the body. We
are now sent to chastise those Moors,
who are alive, vigorous, in open rebellion,
and ensconced in their castles; and they
do not give us man to man." These
words of the brave Alonso de Aguilar
were afterwards frequently repeated; but,
though he saw the desperate nature of the
enterprise, he did not hesitate to undertake
it.

Don Alonso was, at that time, in the
fifty-first year of his age. He was a
veteran warrior, in whom the fire of
youth was yet unquenched, though tempered
by experience. The greater part
of his life had been passed in the camp
and in the field, until danger was as his
natural element. His muscular frame had
acquired the firmness of iron, without the
rigidity of age. His armour and weapons
seemed to have become a part of his
nature; and he sat like a man of steel on
his powerful war-horse.

He took with him, on this expedition,
his son, Don Pedro de Cordova; a youth
of bold and generous spirit, in the freshness
of his days, and armed and arrayed
with all the bravery of a young Spanish
cavalier. When the populace of Cordova
beheld the veteran father, the warrior of
a thousand battles, leading forth his
youthful son to the field, they bethought
themselves of the family appellation.
"Behold," cried they, "the eagle teaching
his young to fly! Long live the
valiant line of Aguilar!"[134]

The prowess of Don Alonso and of
his companions in arms was renowned
throughout the Moorish towns. At their
approach, therefore, numbers of the
Moors submitted, and hastened to Ronda
to embrace Christianity. Among the
mountaineers, however, there were many
of the Gandules, a fierce tribe from Africa,
too proud of spirit to bend their necks to
the yoke. At their head was a Moor,
named El Feri of Ben Estepar, renowned
for strength and courage. At his instigations,
his followers gathered together
their families and most precious effects;
placed them on mules, and, driving before
them their flocks and herds, abandoned
their valleys, and retired up the craggy
passes of the Sierra Vermeja. On the
summit was a fertile plain, surrounded
by rocks and precipices, which formed a
natural fortress. Here El Feri placed all
the women and children, and all the property.
By his orders, his followers piled
great stones on the rocks and cliffs,
which commanded the defiles and the
steep side of the mountain, and prepared
to defend every pass that led to his place
of refuge.

The Christian commanders arrived,
and pitched their camp before the town
of Monardo; a strong place, curiously
fortified, and situated at the foot of the

highest part of the Sierra Vermeja. Here
they remained for several days, unable to
compel a surrender. They were separated
from the skirt of the mountain by
a deep barranca or ravine, at the bottom
of which flowed a small stream. The
Moors commanded by El Feri, drew
down from their mountain height, and
remained on the opposite side of the
brook, to defend a pass which led up to
their stronghold.

One afternoon, a number of Christian
soldiers, in mere bravado, seized a banner,
crossed the brook, and scrambling up the
opposite bank, attacked the Moors. They
were followed by numbers of their companions;
some in aid, some in emulation,
but most in hope of booty. A sharp
action ensued on the mountain side.
The Moors were greatly superior in
number, and had the vantage-ground.
When the Counts of Ureña and Cifuentes
beheld this skirmish, they asked Don
Alonso de Aguilar his opinion. "My
opinion," said he, "was given at Cordova,
and remains the same. This is a desperate
enterprise. However, the Moors
are at hand; and if they suspect weakness
in us, it will increase their courage
and our peril. Forward then to the
attack, and I trust in God we shall gain
a victory!" So saying, be led his troops
into the battle.[135]

On the skirts of the mountains were
several level places, like terraces. Here
the Christians pressed valiantly upon the
Moors, and had the advantage; but the
latter retreated to the steep and craggy
heights, from whence they hurled darts
and rocks upon their assailants. They
defended their passes and defiles with
ferocious valour; but were driven from
height to height, until they reached the
plain on the summit of the mountain,
where their wives and children were
sheltered. Here they would have made
a stand; but Alonso de Aguilar, with his
son Don Pedro, charged upon them at
the head of three hundred men, and put
them to flight, with dreadful carnage.
While they were pursuing the flying
enemy, the rest of the army, thinking the
victory achieved, dispersed themselves
over the plain in search of plunder.
They pursued the shrieking females,
tearing off their necklaces, bracelets, and
anklets of gold; and they found so much
treasure of various kinds collected in this
spot, that they threw by their armour
and weapons, to load themselves with
booty.

Evening was closing: the Christians,
intent upon spoil, had ceased to pursue
the Moors, and the latter were arrested in
their flight by the cries of their wives and
children. Their fierce leader, El Feri,
threw himself before them. "Friends,
soldiers," cried he, "whither do you fly?
whither can you seek refuge, where the
enemy cannot follow you? Your wives,
your children, are behind you; turn and
defend them: you have no chance for
safety, but from the weapons in your
hands!"

The Moors turned at his words. They
beheld the Christians scattered about the
plain many of them without armour, and
all encumbered with spoil. "Now is
the time," shouted El Feri; "charge
upon them while laden with your plunder!
I will open a path for you!" He
rushed to the attack, followed by his
Moors, with shouts and cries, that echoed
through the mountains. The scattered
Christians were seized with a panic, and,
throwing down their booty, began to fly
in all directions. Don Alonso de Aguilar
advanced his banner, and endeavoured
to rally them. Finding his horse of no
avail in these rocky heights, he dismounted,
and caused his men to do the
same. He had a small band of tried followers,
with which he opposed a bold
front to the Moors, calling on the scattered
troops to rally in the rear.

Night had completely closed. It prevented
the Moors from seeing the smallness
of the force with which they were
contending; and Don Alonso and his cavaliers
dealt their blows so vigorously,
that, aided by the darkness, they seemed
multiplied to ten times their number.
Unfortunately a small cask of gunpowder
blew up near to the scene of action. It
shed a momentary but brilliant light over
all the plain, and on every rock and cliff.
The Moors beheld with surprise, that
they were opposed by a mere handful of
men, and that the greater part of the
Christians were flying from the field.

They put up loud shouts of triumph.
While some continued the conflict with
redoubled ardour, others pursued the
fugitives, hurling after them stones and
darts, and discharging showers of arrows.
Many of the Christians, in their terror
and their ignorance of the mountains,
rushed headlong from the brinks of precipices,
and were dashed in pieces.

Don Alonso de Aguilar still maintained
his ground; but while a party of Moors
assailed him in front, others galled him
with all kinds of missiles from the impending
cliffs. Some of the cavaliers,
seeing the hopeless nature of the conflict,
proposed, that they should abandon the
height, and retreat down the mountain.
"No," said Don Alonso proudly; "never
did the banner of the house of Aguilar
retreat one foot in the field of battle."
He had scarcely uttered these words,
when his son Don Pedro was stretched
at his feet. A stone hurled from a cliff
had struck out two of his teeth, and a
lance passed quivering through his thigh.
The youth attempted to rise, and with
one knee on the ground, to fight by the
side of his father. Don Alonso, finding
him wounded, urged him to quit the field.
"Fly, my son," said he. "Let us not
put every thing at venture upon one
hazard: conduct thyself as a good Christian,
and live to comfort and honour thy
mother."

Don Pedro still refused to quit him;
whereupon Don Alonso ordered several
of his followers to bear him off by force.
His friend, Don Francisco Alvarez of
Cordova, taking him in his arms, conveyed
him to the quarters of the Count
of Ureña, who had halted on the heights,
at some distance from the scene of battle,
for the purpose of rallying and succouring
the fugitives. Almost at the same
moment, the count beheld his own son,
Don Pedro Giron, brought in grievously
wounded.

In the mean time, Don Alonso, with
two hundred cavaliers, maintained the
unequal contest. Surrounded by foes,
they fell, one after another, like so many
noble stags encircled by the hunters.
Don Alonso was the last survivor. He
was without horse, and almost without
armour; his corslet unlaced, and his
bosom gashed with wounds. Still he
kept a brave front towards the enemy,
and, retiring between two rocks, defended
himself with such valour, that the slain
lay in a heap before him.

He was assailed in this retreat by a
Moor of surpassing strength and fierceness.
The contest was for some time
doubtful; but Don Alonso received a
wound in the head, and another in the
breast, that made him stagger. Closing
and grappling with his foe, they had a
desperate struggle, until the Christian
cavalier, exhausted by his wounds, fell
upon his back. He still retained his
grasp upon his enemy. "Think not,"
cried he, "thou hast an easy prize:
know, that I am Don Alonso, he of
Aguilar!" "If thou art Don Alonso,"
replied the Moor, "know, that I am El
Feri, of Ben Estepar!" They continued
their deadly struggle, and both drew
their daggers: but Don Alonso was exhausted
by seven ghastly wounds. While
he was yet struggling, his heroic soul
departed from his body, and he expired
in the grasp of the Moor.

Thus fell Alonso de Aguilar, the mirror
of Andalusian chivalry; one of the
most powerful grandees of Spain, for
person, blood, estate, and office. For
forty years he had waged successful
wars upon the Moors: in childhood, by
his household and retainers; in manhood,
by the prowess of his arm, and the
wisdom and valour of his spirit. His
pennon had always been foremost in
danger; he had been general of armies,
viceroy of Andalusia, and the author of
glorious enterprises, in which kings were
vanquished, and mighty alcaydes and
warriors laid low. He had slain many
Moslem chiefs with his own arm, and,
among others, the renowned Ali Atar, of
Loxa, fighting foot to foot, on the banks
of the Xenil. His judgment, discretion,
magnanimity, and justice, vied with his
prowess. He was the fifth lord of his
warlike house, that fell in battle with the
Moors. "His soul," observes Padre
Abarea, "it is believed ascended to
heaven, to receive the reward of so
Christian a captain: for that very day
he had armed himself with the sacraments
of confession and communion."[136]

The Moors, elated with their success,
pursued the fugitive Christians down the
defiles and sides of the mountains. It
was with the utmost difficulty that the
Count de Ureña could bring off a remnant
of his forces from that disastrous
height. Fortunately, on the lower slope
of the mountain they found the rear
guard of the army, led by the Count de
Cifuentes, who had crossed the brook
and the ravine to come to their assistance.
As the fugitives came flying in
headlong terror down the mountain, it
was with difficulty the count kept his own
troops from giving way in panic, and
retreating in confusion across the brook.
He succeeded, however, in maintaining
order, in rallying the fugitives and
cheeking the fury of the Moors. Then,
taking his station on a rocky eminence,
he maintained his post until morning,
sometimes sustaining violent attacks, at
other times rushing forth, and making
assaults upon the enemy. When morning
dawned, the Moors ceased to combat,
and drew up to the summit of the mountain.

It was then that the Christians had
time to breathe, and to ascertain the
dreadful loss they had sustained. Among
the many valiant cavaliers, who had
fallen, was Don Francisco Ramirez of
Madrid, who had been captain-general of
artillery throughout the war of Granada,
and contributed greatly, by his valour
and ingenuity, to that renowned conquest.
But all other griefs and cares
were forgotten in anxiety for the fate of
Don Alonso de Aguilar. His son, Don
Pedro de Cordova, had been brought off
with great difficulty from the battle; and
afterwards lived to be Marquis of Priego.
But of Don Alonso nothing was known,
except that he was left with a handful of
cavaliers, fighting valiantly against an
overwhelming force. As the rising sun
lighted up the red cliffs of the mountains,
the soldiers watched with anxious eyes,
if perchance his pennon might be descried,
fluttering from any precipice or
defile: but nothing of the kind was to be
seen. The trumpet call was repeatedly
sounded: but empty echoes alone replied.
A silence reigned about the mountain
summit, which showed that the
deadly strife was over. Now and then
a wounded warrior came, dragging his
feeble steps from among the cliffs and
rocks; but, on being questioned, he shook
his head mournfully, and could tell nothing
of the fate of his commander.

The tidings of this disastrous defeat,
and of the perilous situation of the survivors,
reached King Ferdinand at Granada.
He immediately marched, at the
head of all the chivalry of his court, to
the mountains of Ronda. His presence,
with a powerful force, soon put an end
to the rebellion. A part of the Moors
were suffered to ransom themselves, and
to embark for Africa; others were made
to embrace Christianity; and those of the
town where the Christian missionaries
had been massacred were sold as slaves.
From the conquered Moors, the mournful
but heroic end of Don Alonso de Aguilar
was ascertained. On the morning after
the battle, when the Moors came to strip
and bury the dead, the body of Don
Alonso was found among those of more
than two hundred of his followers, many
of them alcaydes and cavaliers of distinction.
Though the person of Don
Alonso was well known to the Moors,
being so distinguished among them, both
in peace and war, yet it was so covered
and disfigured with wounds, that it could
with difficulty be recognised. They preserved
it with care, and, on making their
submission, delivered it up to King Ferdinand.
It was conveyed with great
state, to Cordova, amidst the tears and
lamentations of all Andalusia. When
the funeral train entered Cordova, and
the inhabitants saw the coffin, containing
the remains of their favourite hero, and
the war-horse, led in mournful trappings,
on which they had so lately seen him
sally forth from their gates, there was a
general burst of grief throughout the
city. The body was interred with great
pomp and solemnity in the church of St.
Ipolito. Many years afterwards, his
grand-daughter, Doña Catalina of Aguilar
and Cordova, Marchioness of Priego,
caused his tomb to be altered. On examining
the body, the head of a lance
was found among the bones, received,
without doubt, among the wounds of his
last mortal combat. The name of this
accomplished and Christian cavalier has
ever remained a popular theme of the

chronicler and poet; and is endeared to
the public memory by many of the historical
ballads and songs of his country.
For a long time the people of Cordova
were indignant at the brave Count de
Ureña, who, they thought, had abandoned
Don Alonso in his extremity; but
the Castilian monarch acquitted him of
all charge of the kind, and continued him
in honour and office. It was proved,
that neither he nor his people could succour
Don Alonso, or even know of his
peril, from the darkness of the night.
There is a mournful little Spanish ballad,
or romance, which breathes the
public grief on this occasion; and the
populace, on the return of the Count de
Ureña to Cordova, assailed him with one
of its plaintive and reproachful verses: