CHAPTER XII

Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada

by Washington Irving

CHAPTER XII, CHRONICLE OF THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA by Washington Irving

FORAY OF SPANISH CAVALIERS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS OF MALAGA.


The foray of old Muley Abul Hassan had touched the pride of the
Andalusian chivalry, and they determined on retaliation. For this
purpose a number of the most distinguished cavaliers assembled at
Antiquera in the month of March, 1483. The leaders of the enterprise
were, the gallant marques of Cadiz; Don Pedro Henriquez, adelantado
of Andalusia; Don Juan de Silva, count of Cifuentes and bearer of the
royal standard, who commanded in Seville; Don Alonso de Cardenas,
master of the religious and military order of Santiago; and Don Alonso
de Aguilar. Several other cavaliers of note hastened to take part in
the enterprise, and in a little while about twenty-seven hundred
horse and several companies of foot were assembled within the old
warlike city of Antiquera, comprising the very flower of Andalusian
chivalry.

A council of war was held by the chiefs to determine in what quarter
they should strike a blow. The rival Moorish kings were waging civil
war with each other in the vicinity of Granada, and the whole
country lay open to inroads. Various plans were proposed by the
different cavaliers. The marques of Cadiz was desirous of scaling
the walls of Zahara and regaining possession of that important
fortress. The master of Santiago, however, suggested a wider range
and a still more important object. He had received information from
his adalides, who were apostate Moors, that an incursion might be
safely made into a mountainous region near Malaga called the
Axarquia. Here were valleys of pasture-land well stocked with
flocks and herds, and there were numerous villages and hamlets,
which would be an easy prey. The city of Malaga was too weakly
garrisoned and had too few cavalry to send forth any force in
opposition; nay, he added, they might even extend their ravages to
its very gates, and peradventure carry that wealthy place by sudden
assault.

The adventurous spirits of the cavaliers were inflamed by this
suggestion: in their sanguine confidence they already beheld Malaga
in their power, and they were eager for the enterprise. The marques
of Cadiz endeavored to interpose a little cool caution. He likewise
had apostate adalides, the most intelligent and experienced on the
borders: among these he placed especial reliance on one named Luis
Amar, who knew all the mountains and valleys of the country. He had
received from him a particular account of these mountains of the
Axarquia.* Their savage and broken nature was a sufficient defence
for the fierce people who inhabited them, who, manning their rocks
and their tremendous passes, which were often nothing more than
the deep dry beds of torrents, might set whole armies at defiance.
Even if vanquished, they afforded no spoil to the victor. Their houses
were little better than bare walls, and they would drive off their
scanty flocks and herds to the fastnesses of the mountains.

*Pulgar, in his Chronicle, reverses the case, and makes the marques
of Cadiz recommend the expedition to the Axarquia; but Fray Antonio
Agapida is supported in his statement by that most veracious and
contemporary chronicler, Andres Bernaldez, curate of Los Palacios.


The sober counsel of the marques, however, was overruled. The
cavaliers, accustomed to mountain-warfare, considered themselves
and their horses equal to any wild and rugged expedition, and were
flushed with the idea of terminating their foray by a brilliant
assault upon Malaga.

Leaving all heavy baggage at Antiquera, and all such as had horses
too weak for this mountain-scramble, they set forth full of spirit and
confidence. Don Alonso de Aguilar and the adelantado of Andalusia
led the squadron of advance. The count of Cifuentes followed with
certain of the chivalry of Seville. Then came the battalion of the
most valiant Roderigo Ponce de Leon, marques of Cadiz: he was
accompanied by several of his brothers and nephews and many
cavaliers who sought distinction under his banner, and this family
band attracted universal attention and applause as they paraded
in martial state through the streets of Antiquera. The rear-guard
was led by Don Alonso Cardenas, master of Santiago, and was
composed of the knights of his order and the cavaliers of Ecija,
with certain men-at-arms of the Holy Brotherhood whom the king
had placed under his command. The army was attended by a great
train of mules, laden with provisions for a few days' supply until they
should be able to forage among the Moorish villages. Never did a
more gallant and self-confident little army tread the earth. It was
composed of men full of health and vigor, to whom war was a pastime
and delight. They had spared no expense in their equipments, for
never was the pomp of war carried to a higher pitch than among the
proud chivalry of Spain. Cased in armor richly inlaid and embossed,
decked with rich surcoats and waving plumes, and superbly mounted
on Andalusian steeds, they pranced out of Antiquera with banners
flying and their various devices and armorial bearings ostentatiously
displayed, and in the confidence of their hopes promised the
inhabitants to enrich them with the spoils of Malaga.

In the rear of this warlike pageant followed a peaceful band intent
upon profiting by the anticipated victories. They were not the
customary wretches that hover about armies to plunder and strip
the dead, but goodly and substantial traders from Seville, Cordova,
and other cities of traffic. They rode sleek mules and were clad in
goodly raiment, with long leather purses at their girdles well filled
with pistoles and other golden coin. They had heard of the spoils
wasted by the soldiery at the capture of Alhama, and were provided
with moneys to buy up the jewels and precious stones, the vessels
of gold and silver, and the rich silks and cloths that should form the
plunder of Malaga. The proud cavaliers eyed these sons of traffic
with great disdain, but permitted them to follow for the convenience
of the troops, who might otherwise be overburdened with booty.

It had been intended to conduct this expedition with great celerity
and secrecy, but the noise of the preparations had already reached
the city of Malaga. The garrison, it is true, was weak, but it
possessed a commander who was himself a host. This was Muley
Abdallah, commonly called El Zagal, or the Valiant. He was younger
brother of Muley Abul Hassan, and general of the few forces which
remained faithful to the old monarch. He possessed equal fierceness
of spirit with his brother, and surpassed him in craft and vigilance.
His very name was a war-cry among his soldiery, who had the most
extravagant opinion of his prowess.

El Zagal suspected that Malaga was the object of this noisy
expedition. He consulted with old Bexir, a veteran Moor, who
governed the city. "If this army of marauders should reach Malaga,"
said he, "we should hardly be able to keep them without its walls.
I will throw myself with a small force into the mountains, rouse the
peasantry, take possession of the passes, and endeavor to give
these Spanish cavaliers sufficient entertainment upon the road."

It was on a Wednesday that the pranking army of high-mettled
warriors issued forth from the ancient gates of Antiquera. They
marched all day and night, making their way, secretly as they
supposed, through the passes of the mountains. As the tract of
country they intended to maraud was far in the Moorish territories,
near the coast of the Mediterranean, they did not arrive there until
late in the following day. In passing through these stern and lofty
mountains their path was often along the bottom of a barranco,
or deep rocky valley, with a scanty stream dashing along it among
the loose rocks and stones which it had broken and rolled down in
the time of its autumnal violence. Sometimes their road was a mere
rambla, or dry bed of a torrent, cut deep into the mountains and
filled with their shattered fragments. These barrancos and ramblas
were overhung by immense cliffs and precipices, forming the lurking-
places of ambuscades during the wars between the Moors and
Spaniards, as in after times they have become the favorite haunts
of robbers to waylay the unfortunate traveller.

As the sun went down the cavaliers came to a lofty part of the
mountains, commanding to the right a distant glimpse of a part of
the fair vega of Malaga, with the blue Mediterranean beyond, and
they hailed it with exultation as a glimpse of the promised land.
As the night closed in they reached the chain of little valleys and
hamlets locked up among these rocky heights, and known among the
Moors by the name of the Axarquia. Here their vaunting hopes were
destined to meet with the first disappointment. The inhabitants had
heard of their approach: they had conveyed away their cattle and
effects, and with their wives and children had taken refuge in the
towers and fastnesses of the mountains.

Enraged at their disappointment, the troops set fire to the deserted
houses and pressed forward, hoping for better fortune as they
advanced. Don Alonso de Aguilar and the other cavaliers in the
van-guard spread out their forces to lay waste the country,
capturing a few lingering herds of cattle, with the Moorish
peasants who were driving them to some place of safety.

While this marauding party carried fire and sword in the advance
and lit up the mountain-cliffs with the flames of the hamlets, the
master of Santiago, who brought the rear-guard, maintained strict
order, keeping his knights together in martial array, ready for attack
or defence should an enemy appear. The men-at-arms of the Holy
Brotherhood attempted to roam in quest of booty, but he called
them back and rebuked them severely.

At length they came to a part of the mountain completely broken up
by barrancos and ramblas of vast depth and shagged with rocks and
precipices. It was impossible to maintain the order of march; the
horses had no room for action, and were scarcely manageable, having
to scramble from rock to rock and up and down frightful declivities
where there was scarce footing for a mountain-goat. Passing by a
burning village, the light of the flames revealed their perplexed
situation. The Moors, who had taken refuge in a watch-tower on an
impending height, shouted with exultation when they looked down
upon these glistening cavaliers struggling and stumbling among
the rocks. Sallying forth from their tower, they took possession of
the cliffs which overhung the ravine and hurled darts and stones
upon the enemy. It was with the utmost grief of heart that the good
master of Santiago beheld his brave men falling like helpless victims
around him, without the means of resistance or revenge. The
confusion of his followers was increased by the shouts of the Moors
multiplied by the echoes of every crag and cliff, as if they were
surrounded by innumerable foes. Being entirely ignorant of the
country, in their struggles to extricate themselves they plunged
into other glens and defiles, where they were still more exposed
to danger. In this extremity the master of Santiago despatched
messengers in search of succor. The marques of Cadiz, like a loyal
companion-in-arms, hastened to his aid with his cavalry: his approach
checked the assaults of the enemy, and the master was at length
enabled to extricate his troops from the defile.

In the mean time, Don Alonso de Aguilar and his companions, in their
eager advance, had likewise got entangled in deep glens and the
dry beds of torrents, where they had been severely galled by the
insulting attacks of a handful of Moorish peasants posted on the
impending precipices. The proud spirit of De Aguilar was incensed at
having the game of war thus turned upon him, and his gallant forces
domineered over by mountain-boors whom he had thought to drive,
like their own cattle, to Antiquera. Hearing, however, that his friend
the marques of Cadiz and the master of Santiago were engaged with
the enemy, he disregarded his own danger, and, calling together his
troops, returned to assist them, or rather to partake their perils.
Being once more together, the cavaliers held a hasty council amidst
the hurling of stones and the whistling of arrows, and their resolves
were quickened by the sight from time to time of some gallant
companion-in-arms laid low. They determined that there was no
spoil in this part of the country to repay for the extraordinary peril,
and that it was better to abandon the herds they had already
taken, which only embarrassed their march, and to retreat with all
speed to less dangerous ground.

The adalides, or guides, were ordered to lead the way out of this
place of carnage. These, thinking to conduct them by the most
secure route, led them by a steep and rocky pass, difficult for the
foot-soldiers, but almost impracticable to the cavalry. It was
overhung with precipices, from whence showers of stones and arrows
were poured upon them, accompanied by savage yells which appalled
the stoutest heart. In some places they could pass but one at a
time, and were often transpierced, horse and rider, by the Moorish
darts, impeding the progress of their comrades by their dying
struggles. The surrounding precipices were lit up by a thousand
alarm-fires: every crag and cliff had its flame, by the light of which
they beheld their foes bounding from rock to rock and looking
more like fiends than mortal men.

Either through terror and confusion or through real ignorance of
the country their guides, instead of conducting them out of the
mountains, led them deeper into their fatal recesses. The morning
dawned upon them in a narrow rambla, its bottom formed of broken
rocks, where once had raved along the mountain-torrent, while above
there beetled great arid cliffs, over the brows of which they beheld
the turbaned heads of their fierce and exulting foes. What a
different appearance did the unfortunate cavaliers present from that
of the gallant band that marched so vauntingly out of Antiquera!
Covered with dust and blood and wounds, and haggard with fatigue
and horror, they looked like victims rather than like warriors. Many
of their banners were lost, and not a trumpet was heard to rally up
their sinking spirits. The men turned with imploring eyes to their
commanders, while the hearts of the cavaliers were ready to burst
with rage and grief at the merciless havoc made among their faithful
followers.

All day they made ineffectual attempts to extricate themselves from
the mountains. Columns of smoke rose from the heights where in
the preceding night had blazed the alarm-fire. The mountaineers
assembled from every direction: they swarmed at every pass, getting
in the advance of the Christians, and garrisoning the cliffs like so
many towers and battlements.

Night closed again upon the Christians when they were shut up in
a narrow valley traversed by a deep stream and surrounded by
precipices which seemed to reach the skies, and on which blazed and
flared the alarm-fires. Suddenly a new cry was heard resounding
along the valley. "El Zagal! El Zagal!" echoed from cliff to cliff.

"What cry is that?" said the master of Santiago.

"It is the war-cry of El Zagal, the Moorish general," said an old
Castilian soldier: "he must be coming in person, with the troops
of Malaga."

The worthy master turned to his knights: "Let us die," said he,
"making a road with our hearts, since we cannot with our swords.
Let us scale the mountain and sell our lives dearly, instead of
staying here to be tamely butchered."

So saying, he turned his steed against the mountain and spurred him
up its flinty side. Horse and foot followed his example, eager, if
they could not escape, to have at least a dying blow at the enemy.
As they struggled up the height a tremendous storm of darts and
stones was showered upon them by the Moors. Sometimes a fragment
of rock came bounding and thundering down, ploughing its way through
the centre of their host. The foot-soldiers, faint with weariness and
hunger or crippled by wounds, held by the tails and manes of the
horses to aid them in their ascent, while the horses, losing their
foothold among the loose stones or receiving some sudden wound,
tumbled down the steep declivity, steed, rider, and soldier rolling
from crag to crag until they were dashed to pieces in the valley.
In this desperate struggle the alferez or standard-bearer of the
master, with his standard, was lost, as were many of his relations
and his dearest friends. At length he succeeded in attaining the
crest of the mountain, but it was only to be plunged in new
difficulties. A wilderness of rocks and rugged dells lay before him
beset by cruel foes. Having neither banner nor trumpet by which
to rally his troops, they wandered apart, each intent upon saving
himself from the precipices of the mountains and the darts of the
enemy. When the pious master of Santiago beheld the scattered
fragments of his late gallant force, he could not restrain his grief.
"O God!" exclaimed he, "great is thine anger this day against
thy servants. Thou hast converted the cowardice of these infidels
into desperate valor, and hast made peasants and boors victorious
over armed men of battle."

He would fain have kept with his foot-soldiers, and, gathering them
together, have made head against the enemy, but those around
him entreated him to think only of his personal safety. To remain
was to perish without striking a blow; to escape was to preserve a
life that might be devoted to vengeance on the Moors. The master
reluctantly yielded to the advice. "O Lord of hosts!" exclaimed he
again, "from thy wrath do I fly, not from these infidels: they are
but instruments in thy hands to chastise us for our sins." So saying,
he sent the guides in the advance, and, putting spurs to his horse,
dashed through a defile of the mountains before the Moors could
intercept him. The moment the master put his horse to speed,
his troops scattered in all directions. Some endeavored to follow
his traces, but were confounded among the intricacies of the
mountain. They fled hither and thither, many perishing among
the precipices, others being slain by the Moors, and others taken
prisoners.

The gallant marques of Cadiz, guided by his trusty adalid, Luis Amar,
had ascended a different part of the mountain. He was followed
by his friend, Don Alonso de Aguilar, the adelantado, and the count
of Cifuentes, but in the darkness and confusion the bands of these
commanders became separated from each other. When the marques
attained the summit, he looked around for his companions-in-arms,
but they were no longer following him, and there was no trumpet to
summon them. It was a consolation to the marques, however, that
his brothers and several of his relations, with a number of his
retainers, were still with him: he called his brothers by name,
and their replies gave comfort to his heart.

His guide now led the way into another valley, where he would be
less exposed to danger: when he had reached the bottom of it the
marques paused to collect his scattered followers and to give time
for his fellow-commanders to rejoin him. Here he was suddenly
assailed by the troops of El Zagal, aided by the mountaineers
from the cliffs. The Christians, exhausted and terrified, lost all
presence of mind: most of them fled, and were either slain or taken
captive. The marques and his valiant brothers, with a few tried
friends, made a stout resistance. His horse was killed under him;
his brothers, Don Diego and Don Lope, with his two nephews, Don
Lorenzo and Don Manuel, were one by one swept from his side,
either transfixed with darts and lances by the soldiers of El Zagal
or crushed by stones from the heights. The marques was a veteran
warrior, and had been in many a bloody battle, but never before
had death fallen so thick and close around him. When he saw
his remaining brother, Don Beltran, struck out of his saddle by a
fragment of a rock and his horse running wildly about without his
rider, he gave a cry of anguish and stood bewildered and aghast.
A few faithful followers surrounded him and entreated him to fly for
his life. He would still have remained, to have shared the fortunes
of his friend Don Alonso de Aguilar and his other companions-in-arms,
but the forces of El Zagal were between him and them, and death
was whistling by on every wind. Reluctantly, therefore, he consented
to fly. Another horse was brought him: his faithful adalid guided him
by one of the steepest paths, which lasted for four leagues, the
enemy still hanging on his traces and thinning the scanty ranks of
his followers. At length the marques reached the extremity of the
mountain-defiles, and with a haggard remnant of his men escaped
by dint of hoof to Antiquera.

The count of Cifuentes, with a few of his retainers, in attempting
to follow the marques of Cadiz wandered into a narrow pass, where
they were completely surrounded by the band of El Zagal. The
count himself was assailed by six of the enemy, against whom he
was defending himself with desperation, when their leader, struck
with the inequality of the fight, ordered the others to desist, and
continued the combat alone. The count, already exhausted, was soon
compelled to surrender; his brother, Don Pedro de Silva, and the few
of his retainers who survived, were likewise taken prisoners. The
Moorish cavalier who had manifested such a chivalrous spirit in
encountering the count singly was[3]Reduan Vanegas, brother of
the former vizier of Muley Abul Hassan, and one of the leaders of
the faction of the sultana Zoraya.

The dawn of day found Don Alonso de Aguilar with a handful of his
followers still among the mountains. They had attempted to follow
the marques of Cadiz, but had been obliged to pause and defend
themselves against the thickening forces of the enemy. They at
length traversed the mountain, and reached the same valley where the
marques had made his last disastrous stand. Wearied and perplexed,
they sheltered themselves in a natural grotto under an overhanging
rock, which kept off the darts of the enemy, while a bubbling
fountain gave them the means of slaking their raging thirst and
refreshing their exhausted steeds. As day broke the scene of
slaughter unfolded its horrors. There lay the noble brothers and
nephews of the gallant marques, transfixed with darts or gashed and
bruised with unseemly wounds, while many other gallant cavaliers lay
stretched out dead and dying around, some of them partly stripped
and plundered by the Moors. De Aguilar was a pious knight, but his
piety was not humble and resigned, like that of the worthy master
of Santiago. He imprecated holy curses upon the infidels for having
thus laid low the flower of Christian chivalry, and he vowed in his
heart bitter vengeance upon the surrounding country.

By degrees the little force of De Aguilar was augmented by numbers
of fugitives who issued from caves and chasms where they had taken
refuge in the night. A little band of mounted knights was gradually
formed, and, the Moors having abandoned the heights to collect the
spoils of the slain, this gallant but forlorn squadron was enabled
to retreat to Antiquera.

This disastrous affair lasted from Thursday evening, throughout
Friday, the twenty-first of March, the festival of St. Benedict.
It is still recorded in Spanish calendars as the defeat of the
mountains of Malaga, and the spot where the greatest slaughter
took place is called "la Cuesta de la Matanza," or the Hill of the
Massacre. The principal leaders who survived returned to Antiquera.
Many of the knights took refuge in Alhama and other towns: many
wandered about the mountains for eight days, living on roots and
herbs, hiding themselves during the day and sallying forth at night.
So enfeebled and disheartened were they that they offered no
resistance if attacked. Three or four soldiers would surrender to a
Moorish peasant, and even the women of Malaga sallied forth and
made prisoners. Some were thrown into the dungeons of frontier
towns, others led captive to Granada, but by far the greater number
were conducted to Malaga, the city they had threatened to attack.
Two hundred and fifty principal cavaliers, alcaydes, commanders,
and hidalgos of generous blood were confined in the alcazaba, or
citadel, of Malaga to await their ransom, and five hundred and
seventy of the common soldiery were crowded in an enclosure
or courtyard of the alcazaba to be sold as slaves.*

*Cura de los Palacios.


Great spoils were collected of splendid armor and weapons taken
from the slain or thrown away by the cavaliers in their flight, and
many horses, magnificently caparisoned, together with numerous
standards,--all which were paraded in triumph in the Moorish towns.

The merchants also who had come with the army, intending to traffic
in the spoils of the Moors, were themselves made objects of traffic.
Several of them were driven like cattle before the Moorish viragoes
to the market of Malaga, and, in spite of all their adroitness in
trade and their attempts to buy themselves off at a cheap ransom,
they were unable to purchase their freedom without such draughts
upon their money-bags at home as drained them to the very bottom.