CHAPTER XIII

Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada

by Washington Irving

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

EFFECTS OF THE DISASTERS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS OF MALAGA.


The people of Antiquera had scarcely recovered from the tumult of
excitement and admiration caused by the departure of the gallant
band of cavaliers upon their foray when they beheld the scattered
wrecks flying for refuge to their walls. Day after day and hour after
hour brought some wretched fugitive, in whose battered plight and
haggard woebegone demeanor it was almost impossible to recognize
the warrior who had lately issued so gayly and gloriously from
their gates.

The arrival of the marques of Cadiz almost alone, covered with dust
and blood, his armor shattered and defaced, his countenance the
picture of despair, filled every heart with sorrow, for he was greatly
beloved by the people. The multitude asked of his companions
where was the band of brothers which had rallied round him as he
went forth to the field, and when told that one by one they had been
slaughtered at his side, they hushed their voices or spake to each
other only in whispers as he passed, gazing at him in silent
sympathy. No one attempted to console him in so great an affliction,
nor did the good marques speak ever a word, but, shutting himself
up, brooded in lonely anguish over his misfortune. It was only
the arrival of Don Alonso de Aguilar that gave him a gleam of
consolation, rejoicing to find that amidst the shafts of death
which had fallen so thickly among his family his chosen friend
and brother-in-arms had escaped uninjured.

For several days every eye was turned in fearful suspense toward
the Moorish border, anxiously looking in every fugitive from the
mountains for the lineaments of some friend or relative whose fate
was yet a mystery. At length every hope and doubt subsided into
certainty; the whole extent of this great calamity was known,
spreading grief and consternation throughout the land and laying
desolate the pride and hopes of palaces. It was a sorrow that
visited the marble hall and silken pillow. Stately dames mourned
over the loss of their sons, the joy and glory of their age, and
many a fair cheek was blanched with woe which had lately mantled
with secret admiration. "All Andalusia," says a historian of the
time, "was overwhelmed by a great affliction; there was no drying
of the eyes which wept in her."*

*Cura de los Palacios.


Fear and trembling reigned for a time along the frontier. Their
spear seemed broken, their buckler cleft in twain: every border town
dreaded an attack, and the mother caught her infant to her bosom
when the watch-dog howled in the night, fancying it the war-cry of
the Moor. All for a time seemed lost, and despondency even found
its way to the royal breasts of Ferdinand and Isabella amidst the
splendors of their court.

Great, on the other hand, was the joy of the Moors when they saw
whole legions of Christian warriors brought captive into their towns
by rude mountain-peasantry. They thought it the work of Allah in
favor of the faithful. But when they recognized among the captives
thus dejected and broken down some of the proudest of Christian
chivalry; when they saw several of the banners and devices of the
noblest houses of Spain, which they had been accustomed to behold
in the foremost of the battle, now trailed ignominiously through their
streets; when, in short, they witnessed the arrival of the count of
Cifuentes, the royal standard-bearer of Spain, with his gallant
brother, Don Pedro de Silva, brought prisoners into the gates of
Granada,--there were no bounds to their exultation. They thought
that the days of their ancient glory were about to return, and that
they were to renew their career of triumph over the unbelievers.

The Christian historians of the time are sorely perplexed to account
for this misfortune, and why so many Christian knights, fighting in
the cause of the holy faith, should thus miraculously, as it were,
be given captive to a handful of infidel boors, for we are assured
that all this rout and destruction was effected by five hundred foot
and fifty horse, and those mere mountaineers without science or
discipline.* "It was intended," observes one historiographer, "as
a lesson to their confidence and vainglory, overrating their own
prowess and thinking that so chosen a band of chivalry had but
to appear in the land of the enemy and conquer. It was to teach
them that the race is not to the swift nor the battle to the strong,
but that God alone giveth the victory."

*Cura de los Palacios.


The worthy father Fray Antonio Agapida, however, asserts it to be
a punishment for the avarice of the Spanish warriors. They did not
enter the kingdom of the infidels with the pure spirit of Christian
knights, zealous only for the glory of the faith, but rather as
greedy men of traffic, to enrich themselves by vending the spoils
of the infidels. Instead of preparing themselves by confession and
communion, and executing their testaments, and making donations and
bequests to churches and convents, they thought only of arranging
bargains and sales of their anticipated booty. Instead of taking
with them holy monks to aid them with their prayers, they were
followed by a train of trading-men to keep alive their worldly and
sordid ideas, and to turn what ought to be holy triumphs into scenes
of brawling traffic. Such is the opinion of the excellent Agapida,
in which he is joined by that most worthy and upright of chroniclers,
the curate of Los Palacios. Agapida comforts himself, however, with
the reflection that this visitation was meant in mercy to try the
Castilian heart, and to extract from its present humiliation the
elements of future success, as gold is extracted from amidst the
impurities of earth; and in this reflection he is supported by the
venerable historian Pedro Abarca of the Society of Jesuits.*

*Abarca, Anales de Aragon, Rey 30, cap. 2, \0xA4 7.