Chapter XXI: The Last War with Granada (2)

In Isabella was typified the prevalent spirit of the age,--a spirit of superstition, of credulity, of intolerance, ever manifesting a blind devotion to the ministers of religion, ever sanctioning an uncompromising severity in dealing with heretics. Her talents for administration and command were far superior to those of her husband. Her heart was not always insensible to the dictates of pity. She had received the best education which the restricted opportunities of the time afforded. It was her masculine genius which projected and carried into execution the reforms that assured the prosperity of her kingdom and re-established the dignity of the throne. Her prophetic foresight was often obscured by her deference to ecclesiastical authority. She accepted the theories of Columbus after they had been repudiated as absurd and blasphemous by the wisest of her councillors. It was at her own request that the Pope issued the bull which established the Inquisition. Her character was a singular compound of the amazon and the saint. She was equally at home in the cloister and in the camp; listening to the solemn anthems of the mass or surrounded by the clash of arms. Her missal, bearing evidence of constant usage, is one of the most precious relics of the Cathedral of Granada. Her sword and her armor of proof, beautifully wrought and inlaid with gold, are preserved in the museum of Madrid. With the economy of an ordinary housewife, she spun, wove, and stitched her own garments and those of her family. With placid equanimity, she never suffered herself to be elated by success or depressed by misfortune. The universal popularity she enjoyed did much to atone for the stolid and repulsive nature of her husband. In an age of unbounded licentiousness,--practised by every class and excused by ecclesiastical indulgence and royal example,--no suspicion of scandal ever attached to her name. Without those charms of face and figure which in exalted personages have had no small influence on the destiny of empires, her manners were unusually pleasing and attractive. Her commanding ability dominated the mean and disingenuous Ferdinand. She maintained with inflexible firmness the ancient prerogatives of Castile. Courage, magnanimity, tact, candor, benevolence, were among her most conspicuous virtues. Yet Torquemada, the first Grand Inquisitor of Spain, was her favorite confessor, and the awful tortures and subsequent exile of the Hebrew population of the Peninsula were inflicted with her hearty co-operation and approval. The inflexible resolution of Isabella was one of the most striking traits of her remarkable character. Once determined upon the accomplishment of a design, she pursued it unflinchingly to the end. By the fiery Spanish youth their queen was regarded with an affectionate reverence shared only by the Virgin. The moral effect produced upon the Castilian soldiery by her appearance in the field was greater than the confidence inspired by many battalions. Fortunate, indeed, was the knight whose prowess evoked from the lips of his royal mistress words of commendation, more precious in his eyes than the tumultuous applause of multitudes or the deafening acclamations of mighty armies.

It was well for the Christian cause that its power had been thus consolidated, for never during the period of the Arab domination had it been called upon to encounter a more formidable adversary. Muley Hassan, Emir of Granada, though advanced in years, still retained all the enthusiasm of youth, tempered by the wisdom and experience of age. From his very childhood he had been familiar with the exercise of arms. He was long accounted one of the best lances in the kingdom. Foremost in every warlike enterprise, he was the terror of the frontier years before he ascended the throne. Since his accession, his neighbors had had frequent occasion to acknowledge the boldness of his undertakings, the rapidity of his movements, the unrelenting cruelty of his character. The hatred he bore to the infidels had not been diminished by their gratuitous intervention in behalf of rebels in arms against his authority. His personal inclinations were towards unremitting hostility. The literary traditions of his dynasty were, to this fierce warrior, but so many manifestations of folly and cowardice. He repudiated with haughty contempt the claim of superiority implied in the tribute extorted by Castilian arrogance from the policy or the fears of his predecessors. The faith of treaties he observed so far as it suited his convenience and no farther.

The domestic relations of Muley Hassan had already given indications of those fatal quarrels eventually destined to cause the disruption of the monarchy. His sultana, Ayesha, a princess of great abilities and undaunted resolution, was the mother of two sons, the elder of whom, heir apparent to the throne, was the famous Abdallah, known to the Christians as Boabdil, devoted by fate to a life of strange vicissitudes and to a melancholy end. The amorous old king had long since discarded the Moorish princess for a beautiful Christian slave, designated in Spanish romance and tradition as Doña Isabel de Solis, but known to Moorish chroniclers by the poetic appellation of Zoraya, “The Star of the Morning.” Ayesha, inflamed with rage and jealousy, neglected no opportunity to persecute her rival and annoy her lord. Of noble birth and possessed of unlimited wealth, she readily enlisted in her behalf many adherents of rank and power. The ever-available pretext of an unpopular vizier was successfully invoked. The Zegris and the Abencerrages, infected with the tribal prejudices of the Desert and constant rivals for royal favor, willingly lent their aid; the former adhered to the Emir, the influence of the latter was cast with the opposing party. The populace of Granada, delighting in innovation and prone to revolt, chose sides in the controversy at a time when national union was an imperative necessity; when even the hearty co-operation of every class and clan might have been insufficient to avert the impending tempest; when internal dissension was certain to facilitate the designs of the Christians. Popular discontent had, as yet, only manifested itself in a few unimportant riots, which had been suppressed with trifling bloodshed; when the apprehension of the common enemy suspended, for the moment, the implacable resentment of the rival factions.

Having adjusted the internal affairs of their kingdom, secure in their authority, and eager for renown, Ferdinand and Isabella lost no time in despatching an embassy to Granada, instructed to demand the arrears of tribute, an explanation of violated treaties, and an acknowledgment of their own suzerainty. The envoy, Don Juan de Vera, whose splendid retinue had been provided with everything calculated to impress the Moors with the grandeur and power of the Spanish monarchy, brought back a message of defiance. “Return,” said the ferocious old Emir, “and say to your masters that the monarchs of Granada who paid tribute to the Christians are dead. Nothing for our enemies is now made here but lance-heads and scimetars!” The insolent reply of the Moorish king, whom he regarded in the light of a rebellious vassal, exasperated the usually phlegmatic Ferdinand. In an outburst of fury, he exclaimed, “I will tear out the seeds of this pomegranate one by one;” and, with a grim determination to exact a signal revenge, in concert with the Queen he despatched messengers to the powerful nobles throughout his dominions acquainting them with the result of the embassy and ordering them to prepare for war.

By no one was this notification of impending hostilities received with greater satisfaction than by Don Rodrigo Ponce de Leon, Marquis of Cadiz. That personage, destined to figure so prominently in the Conquest as to be generally recognized as its animating spirit, was the representative of one of the greatest houses of the kingdom. With the Duke of Medina-Sidonia, long his feudal rival, he divided the richest estates of Andalusia. Confident of the success which would excuse his rashness, he summoned his retainers, made a sudden foray as far as the environs of Ronda, destroyed the town of Mercadillo, and returned to Arcos loaded with spoil. The pugnacious Muley Hassan could ill brook this insult to his dignity, and he at once determined upon a counterstroke. The fortress of Zahara, captured from the Moors by Ferdinand of Antequera, was the object of his hostility. It was a typical mediæval stronghold. Built upon a pyramidal hill, its natural and artificial defences defied an ordinary attack. But the garrison was small, the supplies inadequate, and the governor disheartened and careless from the affliction of a recent domestic calamity. With the greatest secrecy and celerity, the King issued with his troops from Granada, traversed the mountains by difficult and unfrequented paths, and at night, in the midst of a fearful storm, appeared before Zahara. Aided by the obscurity and the noise of the storm, the Moorish soldiery scaled the walls. The garrison was put to the sword. Many citizens were killed in their beds; the survivors, drenched with rain, spattered with blood, and quaking with cold and terror, collected in the public square, and, exposed to the full fury of the tempest, were guarded there till daylight by a troop of Berber horsemen. Three days afterwards they were exposed for sale in the slave-market of Granada.

The Moorish wars of Spain were essentially wars of reprisals. The military expeditions of one side were usually followed by corresponding incursions of the other. A protracted campaign with the immense expense involved in the maintenance of an army and the prosecution of a siege had heretofore, except in a few instances, been beyond the power of the Christians, and contrary to the traditional tactics of the Moors, practised in all the stratagems of guerilla warfare. The martial spirit of both nations was therefore for the most part exercised in those brilliant but indecisive operations which, by a sudden and unexpected attack, could inflict temporary injury on an enemy. After the seizure of Zahara, an exploit of greater importance was necessary to retrieve the credit of the Spanish arms. With this in view, the Marquis of Cadiz despatched spies to examine the condition of the various cities in the kingdom of Granada. This service, although attended with circumstances of the greatest difficulty and peril, was yet one most earnestly solicited by the Spanish cavaliers. Those intrusted with this mission reported that Malaga and Alhama might, with proper precautions, be surprised. Not content with this information, the Marquis sent Ortega del Prado, an experienced engineer, to carefully inspect the surroundings and measure the walls of Alhama. This dangerous task successfully accomplished, the cautious leader proceeded, with the most profound secrecy, to carry his daring plan into execution. An effective force of seven thousand men, commanded by some of the boldest captains of Andalusia, was assembled. Imitating the example of the Moslems, they moved at night and in silence. It is one of the most singular facts in the annals of these wars that large bodies of men could penetrate, with such ease and unobserved, the territory of a foe whom the proximity of constant danger must have rendered habitually vigilant. The hills of Southern Spain are still dotted with the numerous watch-towers raised by the prudence of the Moors, upon whose summits and from the neighboring mountain peaks a chain of signal-fires conveyed instantaneously the intelligence that the enemy was abroad.

Stealthily the Christian army pursued its way in the darkness under the direction of trusty guides, painfully clambering up the mountain-sides by the uncertain light of the stars, skirting the borders of precipices, hiding in the depths of gloomy ravines, until an hour before dawn on the third day found them in a valley within a mile and a half of Alhama. This city was in the very centre of Granada and was accounted one of the keys of the capital, from which it was but twenty-four miles distant. Under ordinary circumstances an attack upon it seemed hopeless. Situated upon a mountain spur, it was protected by walls not surpassed in height and solidity by those of any fortified place in the Peninsula. A stupendous chasm, several hundred feet in depth, through which rushed the roaring Marchan, defended its approach and enhanced the difficulty of its capture. The hot-baths in its vicinity, known to the Romans and largely patronized by the luxurious inhabitants of the metropolis, had not enervated the mountaineers of Alhama, whose reputation for ferocity and valor had been established in many a frontier skirmish and extended foray. Rendered doubly secure by the natural situation and impregnable bulwarks of the city, the garrison insensibly relaxed its vigilance. No apprehension of an attack was entertained even by the most timorous citizen. The time was especially propitious to a surprise. The governor was absent at Velez-Malaga. An inefficient patrol] was maintained. During the last hour of the night when slumber is deepest, Ortega del Prado, with thirty picked men, planted the ladders and mounted the ramparts of the citadel. A single sentinel was pierced with a score of daggers before he could give the alarm. In the mean time, three hundred soldiers had scaled the walls; the guard, half-awake, perished in its quarters; the garrison rushed to arms; and the shrill notes of the Moorish trumpet, mingled with the shouts of the assailants and the cries of the dying, resounded through the city. The mountaineers, although taken by surprise, were not dismayed. The narrow and crooked streets offered excellent opportunities for defence. These were barricaded, and all access to the gates cut off. The Spaniards were besieged in turn; it was impossible to retire; the steep and contracted entrance to the castle was commanded by the Moorish cross-bowmen and musketeers, whose aim promised almost certain death. Sancho de Avila, Governor of Carmona, and Nicholas de Rojas, Governor of Arcos, in an attempt to lead a forlorn hope, instantly paid the penalty of their rashness, and fell pierced with bolts. The situation was critical. After a day of constant fighting, no foothold had been obtained in the city. The King of Granada was hourly expected. There were no provisions, and the Spaniards outside the walls could not reinforce their comrades. Opinions were divided as to the best course to adopt, but the bold counsels of the Marquis of Cadiz eventually prevailed. A breach was made in the wall of the citadel; through it a number of Spanish knights were enabled to make a sudden sally, and the enemy sullenly retired from his position. Every street now became a battle-ground; from the housetops tiles and stones were rained down upon the Christians; the Moors, animated by the expectation of speedy relief and aware that their most precious interests were at stake, contested every foot of ground with the energy of despair. Driven from the streets, they took refuge in the principal mosque, where for a time they maintained themselves in spite of the most determined attempts to dislodge them. At length, under the shelter of improvised mantelets, the doors were set on fire, and its occupants rushing out were cut to pieces or captured. The burning of the mosque terminated the struggle, a memorable one in the annals of Moorish warfare, both from the audacious character of the enterprise and the intrepid obstinacy of the defence. In no subsequent engagement of the Conquest did the Christians encounter such a desperate resistance. In many respects the taking of Alhama was of great importance. It revealed unmistakably the weakness of the Moslem kingdom, and it placed an enemy’s outpost within a few hours’ march of Granada. It was an ill omen for the permanence of a monarchy when a stronghold of such strategic value could be captured and retained at the very gates of its capital. The spoil of Alhama well repaid the perils incurred to obtain it. It was the wealthiest city of its size in the Moorish dominions. The royal tribute of the entire district was collected there, and it fell into the hands of the victors. The captives numbered three thousand. A great quantity of treasure, of valuable merchandise of every description, of horses and mules, rewarded the daring of the Castilians. Not thinking the city would be permanently occupied, the soldiers hastened to destroy the oil and wheat in the magazines. Scarcely had the work of pillage been completed when a detachment of Moorish cavalry appeared. Unable to retrieve a disaster which rumor had ascribed to a small party of adventurers, after a reconnoissance they returned to Granada. Every effort of the Moorish king was now exerted to retake Alhama before it could be reinforced. His urgent summons rapidly called into the field an army of eighty-one thousand men. With this force he advanced to attack the city, neglecting, in his impetuous anxiety, to avail himself of his fine train of artillery, without which he could not hope for success. Meanwhile, the Christians had not been idle. Realizing their desperate situation, they had despatched messengers to the Catholic sovereigns imploring assistance. Many eminent leaders, whose previous gallantry belied any suspicion of cowardice, counselled retreat. Their remonstrances became more pressing as the great Moslem army deployed about the city, and the convoy with supplies from Antequera, after narrowly escaping capture, was driven back. The Moors were infuriated by the sight of the bodies of their countrymen a prey to dogs, and, disdaining the usual means of protection, dashed forward to scale the battlements. The impregnability of the fortifications of Alhama, when properly defended, now became apparent. The heroic efforts of the besiegers were exerted in vain. The ladders swarming with the lithe and active soldiery were overturned and, with their burdens, dashed to pieces. The missiles of the Christians made great havoc in the dense masses of the enemy, who, regardless of danger, hurled themselves against the defences. Assault followed assault with the same result. An attempt to open a mine under the wall failed on account of the hardness of the rock and the want of necessary implements and protective appliances. Then another expedient was tried. The water-supply of Alhama was obtained from the stream partly encircling it, which was reached by a winding stairway cut through the very centre of the cliff. After almost superhuman efforts to prevent it, the stream was diverted from its channel; and the opening of the subterranean passage, commanded by a picked body of cross-bowmen, offered to the besieged the alternative of death by thirst or by the weapons of the enemy. Every drop of water was now only to be obtained after a conflict, and the little that was thus secured was often tinged with blood.

The news that the Marquis of Cadiz and his companions were shut up in Alhama produced great consternation in every province of the kingdom. There was scarcely a prominent Andalusian family which did not have a representative with the expedition. The honor of the crown, the glory of the Spanish arms, the safety of beloved relatives, the success of future enterprises, perhaps the fate of the Moorish kingdom itself, were staked upon the result. Hereditary prejudices were cast aside. The Duke of Medina-Sidonia forgot his animosity towards his rival and appeared at the head of his numerous vassals. Ferdinand took the field in person. A suggestive indication of the military spirit and the resources of the Spanish monarchy at that time is afforded by the fact that within a week an army of forty-five thousand men, completely equipped, was marshalled ready for battle. The King of Granada dared not risk an encounter with this powerful force. The flower of the Moslem youth had perished in the bloody yet fruitless engagements of the siege. The survivors were discouraged by these repeated reverses; the opportunity to retrieve a disaster attributable to negligence rather than to misfortune had been lost; and, with a heavy heart, Muley Hassan retired to face the resentment and endure the execrations of the fierce and seditious populace of his capital.

The serious dispute concerning the distribution of the plunder which arose between the two divisions of the Christian army gives us an insight into national manners, and discloses the principal motive with which these national crusades were prosecuted. The cupidity of the relieving force was aroused at the sight of the rich booty secured by their comrades who had stormed the town, and they demanded it as their own, alleging, with some reason, that without their timely aid it would have been inevitably lost. The honor acquired by the rescue of their countrymen and the glory of maintaining the Christian cause were inconsiderable in comparison with the spoil to which they declared themselves entitled. The feeling ran so high that all the influence of the Duke of Medina-Sidonia and other powerful nobles was required to prevent an appeal to arms.

The Spanish army having withdrawn, the King of Granada, this time abundantly provided with artillery and munitions of war, again invested Alhama. The thickness of the walls, however, resisted even the fire of the Moorish lombards, at that epoch the best served, and, indeed, almost the only ordnance in Europe. One night, just after sunset, Muley Hassan summoned to his tent forty young cavaliers of the most distinguished families of the Arab nobility. When assembled, they were informed that he had selected them to carry the town by escalade. The ambition of the Moorish youth was inflamed by the confidence reposed in them by their King, and the perilous service was accepted with enthusiasm. Supported by a numerous detachment, the daring adventurers approached the highest part of the wall. Its vicinity was so difficult of access that the garrison, considering this portion of the defences impregnable, maintained a careless watch. But the active intrepidity of the Moors overcame this apparently insurmountable obstacle, and the little band of assailants attained the summit of the ramparts unobserved. Of two sentinels they encountered, one was put to death, but the other, escaping, gave the alarm. Already seventy Moors had penetrated into the streets and others were ascending the ladders. A few moments more and the city would have been taken. The scaling-party, overwhelmed by numbers, were all killed or made prisoners; the supporting forces which were mounting the walls or had silently approached the gates were driven back; a vigilant patrol was established; and the most promising attempt devised by Moorish ingenuity and daring for the recovery of Alhama was frustrated.

Fully awake now to the difficulty of preserving their conquest, the Catholic sovereigns made for the first time adequate preparations for its defence. The garrison was strongly reinforced. Forty thousand beasts of burden were required to transport the enormous quantity of provisions and military supplies which were deposited in its arsenal and magazines. The city had been taken the first day of March, 1482. The second retreat of the Moors took place on the twenty-third of the month. The interval had been one of almost constant battle. Hundreds of lives had been lost on both sides. The military operations connected with the capture of Alhama in the gravity and significance of their results far surpassed those which decided the fate of any other fortified place during the war of Granada, the capital alone excepted. The prestige its possession imparted to the Spanish arms was of greater value than even its paramount importance as a base of operations in the heart of the enemy’s country. Its loss was a fatal blow to the Moorish cause. The unpopularity of Muley Hassan increased; his army was disheartened; the murmurs of the seditious mob of the city grew more threatening; and the faction of the palace hastened to perfect the conspiracy which was soon to result in the downfall of the Moslem power.

The furious spirit of the jealous Ayesha had pursued its designs with all the energy of disappointed ambition and implacable revenge. The hated slave Zoraya was now the first sultana, and had superseded her rival in royal precedence as well as in the affections of her husband. The vizier, Abul-Kasim-Venegas, the son of a noble Christian renegade, to whom the Emir, infatuated with the beautiful favorite, had resigned the direction of affairs, was practically the ruler of the kingdom. The intimacy enjoyed by these two confidants of foreign descent and detested lineage was urged as little less than treason by the scheming adherents of Ayesha. Some time previously, by the advice of the vizier, the insolence of certain chiefs of the Abencerrages had been punished by summary execution. The support of that powerful tribe was thus forever alienated from the King; its members eagerly listened to the overtures of the rebellious party; and the proud and vindictive African cavaliers expected with impatience the hour of retribution.

The reverse at Alhama was the signal for revolt. The King had scarcely returned before serious riots, led by the Abencerrages, were reported in the Albaycin. It was no secret who was really responsible for these disturbances; and Ayesha and her son Boabdil, whom, although still a youth, it was intended to place upon the throne, were promptly arrested and imprisoned in the great tower of Comares in the Alhambra. This decisive step insured the public safety for the time. The rioters dispersed, the leaders concealed themselves, and the city resumed its ordinary aspect of quiet and peace. But this apparent tranquillity was of short duration. The female slaves of Ayesha, having made a rope of their veils, lowered the young prince from a window of the tower overlooking the Darro, where the Abencerrage chieftains awaited him; and at dawn, escorted by a considerable band of horsemen, he was far on his way to Guadix, whose alcalde was one of his partisans.

Ignorant of the extent of the conspiracy or of the number of exalted personages implicated in it, Muley Hassan attached but little importance to the escape of his rebellious son. But, a few days afterwards, while the King was enjoying the luxurious seclusion of one of his suburban palaces, a great tumult arose in the city. Information was brought to him that the Abencerrages had proclaimed the sovereignty of Boabdil; that, incited by the presence of the prince and the shouts of his supporters, the populace of the Albaycin had again risen in arms; that the revolution was rapidly gaining ground and seemed about to involve the entire city; and, worse than all, that the alcalde Ibn-Comixa had raised the rebel standard on the citadel of the Alhambra. The African guards, led by the vizier, in vain attempted to stem the tide of insurrection. Muley Hassan himself, who hoped by his presence to awe the seditious multitude, was received with shouts of defiance and derision. At dawn the entire population of Granada assembled and expelled the King and his adherents, who fled in disorder to the castle of Mondujar. The friends and relatives of the dethroned monarch, apprised of his misfortune, hastened to tender their aid and sympathy. A band of five hundred was selected for an attempt to recover the capital. Attired in black, on a cloudy night, they scaled the walls of the Alhambra. Every soldier whom they encountered was put to death. The alarm spread; the garrison withdrew to the towers of the citadel; and the assailants, descending to the city, were soon engaged with the insurgents in a hand-to-hand conflict in the streets. The midnight tumult aroused the entire population, and the light of torches and tapers soon disclosed the insignificant numbers of the enemy. The citizens, animated by the consciousness of strength, by the constant arrival of reinforcements, and by the fear of punishment, fought with determined courage; and the King, after leaving more than half of his followers on the field, only escaped through the obscurity of the night. Extricating himself with difficulty from the labyrinth of narrow lanes in the suburbs, he pursued his way to Malaga, which city remained loyal to his cause. An implacable triangular struggle, in which Moslem autonomy could not fail in the end to be destroyed, was now inaugurated. Two kings and two courts, inflamed with mutual resentment, each determined, by any expedient, to accomplish the ruin of the other, were in arms. Every community was distracted by the quarrels of hostile factions. Partisan discord afflicted even the remote settlements of the Sierras. On the other side was the common enemy, aggressive, united, vigilant; more powerful in numbers, more fertile in resources, than at any former period. At no time in the history of the Moorish occupation had the demand for unanimity in the national councils been so imperative, and yet at no time had those councils been so divided. Anxiety for party success had in the minds of the infuriated Moors obliterated all concern for the public welfare. Even the semblance of patriotism, and that religious zeal more important in the eyes of the Moslem than attachment to his country, were overcome by the bitterness of factional animosity. With union and co-operation the ultimate result of the contest could not be doubtful, but it might have been prolonged, and the evil day of persecution and servitude have been deferred for perhaps another century. Under the existing political conditions, with provincial disintegration aided by foreign hostility, national ruin was swift and certain.

The Christians were quick to grasp the opportunities afforded by these dissensions. Already Ferdinand, at the head of a numerous force, had overrun the Vega, leaving behind him a smoking track of devastation. From the ramparts of Granada the Moors beheld, with impotent rage and despair, the flames of mills and farm-houses, the massacre of peasants, and the destruction of orange-groves and olive-plantations. Thousands of sheep and cattle became the spoil of the Castilians in this foray, and the supplies of Alhama, already sufficient for a siege of many months’ duration, were again replenished, this time with the plundered harvests of the unfortunate Moslems of the Vega. In spite of its massive defences, its plentiful supplies, and its numerous garrison, the retention of that place was doubtful so long as its communications with the provinces of the Spanish monarchy might be interrupted. The Vega of Granada was approached through an opening in the mountains guarded by the ancient city of Loja. Founded by Abdallah, Khalif of Cordova, it had long been regarded as one of the most important fortified places in the Peninsula. Its great castle and frowning walls imparted a forbidding aspect to the town, which was, however, more than compensated by the beautiful and picturesque environs that encircled it, not the least important of its attractions being the vineyards and olive-orchards which covered every declivity. Its irrigating system, dependent upon the Genil and other smaller streams, had been extended by the industrious inhabitants until the country, for many leagues, exhibited the highest attainable state of cultivation.

The capture of Loja was now a military necessity. While it remained in the hands of the Moors the possession of Alhama could never be absolutely secure. Once in the power of the Spaniards, an unobstructed way was opened into the Vega, and the capital itself might at any time be threatened. The governor of the city was Aliatar, who, reared amidst the quiet of mercantile pursuits, had, by the display of military ability and reckless courage, attained great renown in arms. His exploits were the theme of all Andalusia. The frequency of his marauding expeditions in the vicinity of Lucena had gained for that district the name of the “Garden of Aliatar.” Moraima, his favorite daughter, was the wife of Boabdil. For nearly two generations he had been an active spirit in every campaign against the Christians, but the accumulation of years had neither damped his ardor nor diminished his activity. His wealth was expended in the maintenance of troops and the ransom of captives. So few were the luxuries which he reserved for his family that his daughter was compelled to borrow jewels in order to appear with becoming dignity before her betrothed lover, the heir to the Moslem throne. This famous chieftain was now more than seventy years of age. Familiar with every artifice of guerilla warfare, brave even to the extreme of rashness, fertile in the resources imparted by the varied experiences of a long and adventurous career, beloved by his followers, dreaded by his enemies, it would have been difficult to find within the limits of Granada a more formidable and capable adversary than this doughty old Moslem commander.

Elated by the success of his recent expedition in the Vega, Ferdinand, expecting an easy conquest, hastened to lay siege to Loja. With only thirteen thousand men, ill-provided with the necessary equipment and without even sufficient rations to supply him for a week, on the first day of July, 1482, he encamped before the city. It was soon perceived that his army was not strong enough to even properly invest it. The inequalities of the ground, whose natural ruggedness was increased by innumerable trees and hedges, rendered it impossible for the lines to remain unbroken or for the various divisions to preserve communication with each other. On the level land and in the valley, a maze of intersecting canals made the evolutions of cavalry difficult and often impracticable. The partial isolation of the different detachments of the besieging army not only rendered them constantly liable to surprise, but diminished their confidence and greatly impaired their efficiency. The disorderly arrangement of the Spaniards, thus seriously hampered by the nature of their surroundings, was soon perceived by the Moors. Aliatar, at the head of three thousand horsemen, quietly issued from the western gate, concealed several hundred of his bravest warriors amidst the rank vegetation of the orchards, and suddenly attacked the post commanded by Don Rodrigo Giron, Master of Calatrava. The Christians, although taken unawares, defended themselves bravely; the Moors retreated in apparent confusion; and their unwary antagonists, impelled by their headlong impetuosity, were soon intercepted by the ambuscade. The retiring enemy now returned to the charge, and the Spanish knights, assailed in both front and rear, with difficulty held their ground. The Master of Calatrava, conspicuous for his gallantry as well as well as for the richness of his dress, which bore the peculiar cross of his order, became the target for a cloud of missiles, two of which having penetrated a vital part, the intrepid young cavalier fell dying from his horse. It was only by superhuman efforts that any of his followers escaped a similar fate. Many were killed and wounded, but at last the superior weight and armor of the Spaniards prevailed, and the Moorish trumpets sounded a retreat. Encumbered with the bodies of their unfortunate companions, the surviving knights returned to their encampment, where the overturned tents and broken equipage which, mingled in dire confusion, everywhere strewed the ground, attested the fierceness of an attack that had resulted so disastrously to the Christian arms. It now became evident to even the arrogant and opinionated Ferdinand that something more than military enthusiasm was necessary to successfully conduct a siege. Without reluctance he consented to withdraw to the Rio Frio until an army already on the march from Cordova to reinforce him should arrive. Want of discipline or inexcusable neglect prevented the communication of this design to the different commanders; and when, at daybreak, the tents were struck on the height of Abul-Hassan, and the vigilant Aliatar, ready for any emergency, stormed the outpost, a frightful panic arose. The exultant cries of the Moors and the appearance of their standards in the Spanish camp created the impression among the besiegers that Aliatar had been reinforced, and that they were in imminent danger of defeat and capture. The general alarm was increased by the unexpected removal of the tents of the detachment, by the memory of the prowess of their enemies and the advantage the latter had recently gained, and especially by their own lamentable want of self-reliance, inspired by their isolated position and defective discipline. The terrified infantry fled at once in a body, throwing the knights, who in vain attempted to rally them, into confusion. The Moors, planting a battery on a commanding eminence, by the accuracy of their fire increased the general disorder. Their desperate charges against the escort guarding the King, which, though outnumbered and surrounded, maintained its ground with inflexible resolution, for a time made the issue doubtful. Never during his life was Ferdinand in greater danger. His bravest captains were wounded and unhorsed. The Marquis of Cadiz, at the head of seventy knights, received undismayed the furious attack of the Moslem horsemen. Dismounted, and armed only with his sword, this gallant hero, fighting in the front of the line, performed prodigies of valor; and his followers, emulating his example, made such an obstinate resistance that the assailants, exhausted by their efforts, finally withdrew from the field. The rout of the Christian army was complete. The siege had lasted only five days. Some of the terror-stricken fugitives did not halt until they had placed a distance of twenty miles between themselves and the scene of their disgrace. Only the heroic efforts of a handful of cavaliers had saved the King from capture. For more than a league the ground was strewn with abandoned clothing, standards, and weapons. The siege-train fell into the hands of the enemy. Flushed with victory, the soldiers of Aliatar, amidst the acclamations of their countrymen, re-entered the city enriched with the spoils of the Christian camp.

The disastrous result of the attempt upon Loja filled the isolated garrison of Alhama with the direst apprehensions. It required all the address and authority of the governor, Don Luis Portocarrero, to dissuade his command from wholesale desertion. The sudden appearance of a Moorish army added to their fears, and only the prompt relief sent by Isabella preserved to the Spanish Crown this important fortress, gained at such cost, and defended with such difficulty. The Moors retired; a new garrison was introduced; and Don Juan de Vera assumed command, supported by several youthful knights who had voluntarily sought this post of danger, ambitious of adventure and distinction. Among them was Hernan Perez del Pulgar, whose career resembles that of a paladin of romance, and who was destined to great celebrity in the ensuing operations of the war with Granada.

Muley Hassan, in his palace at Malaga, had learned with indignation of the investment of Loja. Collecting his forces, he prepared to go to the aid of that city when news reached him of the repulse and withdrawal of the Christians. Deeming himself secure from interference, and bent on revenge, he descended with seventy-five hundred men upon the fertile district of Medina-Sidonia. The vicinity of Gibraltar and Algeziras, the plains of Estepona--in short, all of that region as far as the River Celemin--experienced the awful atrocities of border warfare. The operations were planned and executed with systematic regularity under the direction of the King in person. The army was divided into detachments, to each of which was assigned a separate territory as its exclusive prey. By this arrangement much time was saved, and the devastation was rendered more complete. On all sides rose the smoke of burning harvests and dwellings. From every point of the compass armed squadrons brought spoil and prisoners to the Moslem head-quarters. The cattle alone numbered more than five thousand. It was years since the Moors had secured such a booty. Impunity had relaxed the vigilance of the inhabitants of that portion of Andalusia, long exempt from the efforts of Moslem enterprise and audacity. The accumulations of industry were therefore more accessible and less diligently guarded than in localities constantly exposed to the inroads of the enemy. On his return, Muley Hassan fell into an ambuscade, where his cattle were stampeded and many of them lost; but the injury he received was trifling, and a few days afterwards he entered Malaga in triumph.

This bold achievement of the Moorish king aroused the martial emulation of the Castilian cavaliers, mortified by the triumph of an infidel foe. In March, 1483, several of the chiefs of the greatest houses of the kingdom met at Antequera, accompanied by their vassals, to agree upon a plan of campaign. The influence and obstinacy of Don Alonzo de Cardenas, Grand Master of Santiago, dominated the assembly, in opposition to the counsels of leaders of great and varied experience; and the Ajarquia, a rugged and sparsely settled district north of Malaga, which exaggerated reports had declared to be filled with innumerable herds of cattle, was selected as the object of the expedition. In a long and irregular line the adventurers entered the gloomy defiles of the Sierra. The advance guard was commanded by Don Alonzo de Aguilar; in the centre were the Count of Cifuentes and the Marquis of Cadiz; the rear, as the post of danger and honor, was in charge of the Grand Master of Santiago. As the Spaniards penetrated farther into the mountains, the aspect of the country became more and more forbidding. The paths were dangerous and uncertain. Precipitous cliffs towered far above their heads. At times the road skirted the borders of chasms whose depths were invisible and denoted only by the faint roaring of some distant torrent. Not a living thing was in sight. Everywhere the silence of desolation prevailed, and, except a few deserted hovels, there was nothing to indicate the presence of man. The soldiers, exasperated by disappointment and careless of danger, pursued their way in noisy disorder. The huts of the shepherds, set on fire by the advance guard, cast a lurid light over the gloomy landscape and disclosed the broken and scattered ranks of the Spaniards, who, in an unknown country, buried in the cavernous recesses of the mountains and surrounded by enemies, neglected to observe even the precautions of an ordinary march. The approach of night redoubled the embarrassment, already sufficiently serious. The guides, misled by a multiplicity of paths and apprehensive of danger, lost their way. All order was now at an end; the number of stragglers grew more numerous in the darkness; the main body, whose progress was impeded by the mule-train loaded with camp equipage, was thrown into confusion; and through the obscurity the signal-fires of the enemy could be seen on the mountain-tops flashing far and wide the movements of the expedition. While the trouble and turmoil were greatest, the rear guard, where the military habits of the Knights of Santiago still preserved an appearance of obedience and discipline, was attacked by the mountaineers. From inaccessible heights showers of arrows and stones of enormous size descended upon the helpless cavaliers, whose disadvantageous position did not suffer them either to defend themselves or to dislodge their enemies. As the number of the latter, summoned by the signal-fires, increased, the rest of the army became involved in the hopeless contest; where, in a contracted valley, crowded together in a struggling mass, the foolhardy band of Christian adventurers seemed devoted to inevitable destruction. Meanwhile, the chain of lights and the swiftness of agile couriers had conveyed to Malaga information of the presence of enemies in the Ajarquia. Abdallah-al-Zagal, brother of the King, and his equal in military experience and prowess, and Redwan Venegas, a distinguished chieftain, at once set out with a strong body of cavalry for the scene of action. The first ray of dawn revealed to the harassed Christians the well-armed troops of the King on the heights far above them. With almost inconceivable rapidity, considering the obstacles presented by the ground, the mountaineers for a distance of many miles had assembled in defence of their homes. All the exits of the Ajarquia were guarded. A detachment of Berbers occupied the pass on the side of the sea, prepared to intercept all who might attempt to escape in that direction. As soon as the light of day enabled the Spaniards to fully realize the extent of the peril that threatened them, they were almost ready to give way to despair. From the shelter of rock and trees, the adroit cross-bowmen of Venegas picked off with impunity all conspicuous for their dress or armor. Those who were not pierced with missiles or crushed with rocks were hurled headlong over precipices. Resistance and flight seemed equally useless. The Spaniards deserting their colors, each solicitous for his individual safety, scattered in every direction. The Grand Master of Santiago, by a resolute charge in which the most of his surviving comrades were lost, managed to reach the summit of the mountain, and, cutting his way through the astonished peasants, made his escape. Abdallah-al-Zagal, who, with the larger part of the detachment from Malaga, was posted at the only pass south of the Ajarquia, intercepted a small band of fugitives whose broken weapons and battered armor indicated the desperate peril to which they had recently been exposed. Among these were the Marquis of Cadiz, Alonzo de Aguilar, and the Count of Cifuentes. Unable to advance farther, by dint of strenuous efforts they maintained their position until night. Then the Marquis, guided by a resolute and experienced scout in his service, threaded the dangerous paths of the sierra and finally reached Antequera. The Count of Cifuentes was surrounded and taken. Alonzo de Aguilar and his companions concealed themselves in caves and thickets, remaining quiet by day and travelling at night, subsisting upon roots and herbs, until they succeeded in joining their countrymen at the frontier outposts. For many days the unfortunate Castilians, one by one, their arms and armor lost, their clothes torn to rags, gaunt with famine, tottering with fatigue, straggled, half-demented, into the cities of Alhama and Antequera. Of the entire number who had enlisted in the hazardous enterprise less than half escaped. Nearly a hundred were killed. Eight hundred and twenty-five were carried captive to Malaga. Four hundred of those highest in rank were set aside for ransom. Two hundred more were imprisoned in the dungeons of Granada and Ronda. Among the dead were two brothers of the Marquis of Cadiz, Gomez Mendez de Sotomayor, Governor of Utrera, and many other noblemen of illustrious rank. More than thirty commanders of the Order of Santiago perished or were captured. So great was the terror of the Christians who strayed aimlessly through the defiles and along the slopes of the mountains, that in many cases four or five surrendered to a single unarmed enemy. Even the peasant women made prisoners of fugitives overcome with terror and weakness whom they encountered in the suburbs of Malaga. The booty was increased by the large sums of money intrusted to the soldiers by their friends for the purchase of cattle, slaves, and jewels, in the expectation of certain victory and abundant spoil. Nothing in the annals of Spanish conquest indicates its mercenary character more clearly than this significant circumstance. The devout chroniclers, lamenting the avarice of their countrymen, refer to this crushing defeat as a manifest proof of the wrath of Providence. The example of Alhama had induced the Spaniards to consider their arms as invincible. The treasure found in that city had aroused the cupidity of every adventurer in the Peninsula. This overweening confidence had now received a serious check. In all the cities of Andalusia there was distress and mourning; in the court unconcealed dismay; in nearly every family the anguish of suffering or the more harrowing bitterness of suspense. A fatal blow had been struck at Spanish prestige. The affair of the Ajarquia, following closely upon the repulse at Loja, had not only tarnished the lustre of their arms, but had diminished the estimate in which the Catholic sovereigns were held in Europe. Less than six hundred peasants were engaged in the fight which terminated in the rout of the Andalusian nobles, who, with their retainers, outnumbered their assailants seven to one. The banners, the emblazoned surcoats, the magnificent harnesses, the war-horses, followed by the most illustrious captives in chains, were exhibited, for the exultation of the people and the glory of Al-Zagal, in the cities of Ronda, Loja, Malaga, and Granada. The prisoners not considered valuable enough to be reserved for ransom and the camp followers and traders, who expected anything but this result, were sold at auction with the equipage, the mules, and the other spoils of war.

These successive military exploits of Muley Hassan contributed greatly to his popularity and imparted a prodigious impulse to his cause. Many adventurous spirits of the kingdom, who had hitherto held aloof, now joined his standard. The defection of a number of influential partisans, attracted to Malaga by the prospect of plunder and renown, alarmed the faction of Boabdil, who, heedless of the perils that menaced his country, remained shamefully inert in the paradise of the Alhambra. Forced at length to action by the indignant remonstrances of his mother and the Abencerrages, who daily observed the evidences of his waning power, he reluctantly prepared for a foray into the land of the Christians. The frontiers of Cordova were selected as the scene of operations, for the lords of that territory had nearly all been left on the field of the Ajarquia or were still immured in Moorish dungeons. At the head of nine thousand infantry and seven hundred cavalry, the Moslem prince took his departure from Granada. With ill-advised ostentation the army proceeded to Loja, where Aliatar joined it with a squadron of veterans, whose experience was of far more practical value than the vainglorious array of young cavaliers who formed the splendid bodyguard of the King. Unlike his father, whose plans were carried out with the silence and rapidity which insure success, Boabdil displayed in his march all the pomp and deliberation of a royal progress. Indebted to his folly and inexperience, the Christians, fully apprised of his movements, were already prepared for his reception. A small but resolute body of cavaliers under Don Diego Fernandez de Cordova, Alcalde de los Donceles, had been collected at Lucena. The Moors, having passed the Genil and ravaged the districts of Montilla and Aguilar, marching in disorder and encumbered with booty, directed their course towards that place, with a view of taking it by storm. On the twentieth of April the Castilian signals announced the proximity of the enemy. The city of Lucena was not adapted, either by reason of formidable defences or of a numerous population, to offer a prolonged resistance to such an army as now threatened it. The citizens, accustomed to border alarms, behaved with the utmost intrepidity. An attack of the Moors was repulsed with great loss. In retaliation for this unexpected result, the orchards in the vicinity were cut down and every building that could be reached destroyed. This work of ruin accomplished, a peremptory demand to surrender was sent to the governor. The latter, aware of the approach of the Count of Cabra with reinforcements, temporized with the Moslems until their scouts advised them that the Christian banners were in sight, when, unwilling to risk the loss of their plunder, they retired slowly towards the Genil. The Spaniards, though greatly inferior in number, were unwilling to abandon the present opportunity for an engagement upon more equal terms, and followed closely the retreating Moslems. Dividing their forces near the river, one detachment was sent forward to surprise the vanguard,--which was conducting the flocks and the captives,--while the remainder harassed the rear. Thus attacked on every side, where the dense forest concealed the insignificant numbers of the enemy, the Moors, unaccustomed to the restraints of discipline, became terror-stricken and fled. The efforts of Boabdil and his commanders to rally them were fruitless. A frightful massacre resulted; the fugitives were pierced with lances or trampled under the hoofs of the charging squadrons; on the banks of the stream, already heaped up with the dead, hundreds sank under the strokes of the heavy Toledo blades. With conspicuous gallantry, Boabdil and Aliatar, supported by a handful of followers, attempted to check the irresistible onset of their foes. Oppressed by the weight of numbers, the veteran Moslem captain was cut down, and his body, swept away by the swift current of the Genil, was never seen again. The magnificent appearance of the King; his damascened armor and cloak of crimson velvet embroidered with gold; the rich caparison of his horse; the beauty of his weapons, indicating a person of distinction, made him the target for a thousand missiles. Pierced with a shot, his horse fell under him. Mingled with a crowd of foot-soldiers, who were pressing on to the river, he found his progress obstructed by a pile of cattle, which during the confusion of the rout had been trampled to death in the mire. The impetuosity of the pursuers admitted of no delay, and the distressed fugitive, turning aside, attempted to conceal himself among the laurels and brambles that lined the banks of the stream. His showy costume betrayed him, and he was at once intercepted by Martin Hurtado, a petty official of Lucena, who, after a slight resistance, effected his capture. While his identity was unsuspected, his exalted rank was evident; and the comrades of Hurtado, desirous of sharing the ransom of such a distinguished personage, attempted to deprive him of the credit of the exploit. A serious altercation ensued, and the soldiery prepared to establish their rival pretensions by force of arms, when the opportune arrival of the Alcalde de los Donceles ended the dispute. Interposing his authority, he caused the illustrious prisoner to be conducted to Lucena, where, although closely guarded, he was treated with the greatest respect until an investigation might establish his rank and determine the sum to be exacted for his release.