CHAPTER XLIX

Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada

by Washington Irving

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

RESULT OF THE STRATAGEM OF EL ZAGAL TO SURPRISE
KING FERDINAND.


Queen Isabella and her court had remained at Cordova in great
anxiety for the result of the royal expedition. Every day brought
tidings of the difficulties which attended the transportation of the
ordnance and munitions and of the critical state of the army.

While in this state of anxious suspense couriers arrived with all
speed from the frontiers, bringing tidings of the sudden sally of El
Zagal from Granada to surprise the camp. All Cordova was in
consternation. The destruction of the Andalusian chivalry among
the mountains of this very neighborhood was called to mind; it
was feared that similar ruin was about to burst forth from rocks
and precipices upon Ferdinand and his army.

Queen Isabella shared in the public alarm, but it served to rouse
all the energies of her heroic mind. Instead of uttering idle
apprehensions, she sought only how to avert the danger. She called
upon all the men of Andalusia under the age of seventy to arm and
hasten to the relief of their sovereign, and she prepared to set out
with the first levies. The grand cardinal of Spain, old Pedro Gonzalez
de Mendoza, in whom the piety of the saint and the wisdom of the
counsellor were mingled with the fire of the cavalier, offered high
pay to all horsemen who would follow him to aid their king and the
Christian cause, and, buckling on armor, prepared to lead them
to the scene of danger.

The summons of the queen roused the quick Andalusian spirit.
Warriors who had long since given up fighting and had sent their
sons to battle now seized the sword and lance rusting on the
wall, and marshalled forth their gray-headed domestics and their
grandchildren for the field. The great dread was, that all aid
would arrive too late; El Zagal and his host had passed like a
storm through the mountains, and it was feared the tempest
had already burst upon the Christian camp.

In the mean time, the night had closed which had been appointed
by El Zagal for the execution of his plan. He had watched the last
light of day expire, and all the Spanish camp remained tranquil. As
the hours wore away the camp-fires were gradually extinguished.
No drum nor trumpet sounded from below. Nothing was heard but
now and then the dull heavy tread of troops or the echoing tramp
of horses--the usual patrols of the camp--and the changes of the
guards. El Zagal restrained his own impatience and that of his
troops until the night should be advanced and the camp sunk in
that heavy sleep from which men are with difficulty awakened, and
when awakened prone to be bewildered and dismayed.

At length the appointed hour arrived. By order of the Moorish king
a bright flame sprang up from the height of Bentomiz, but El Zagal
looked in vain for the responding light from the city. His impatience
would brook no longer delay; he ordered the advance of the army
to descend the mountain-defile and attack the camp. The defile was
narrow and overhung by rocks; as the troops proceeded they came
suddenly, in a shadowy hollow, upon a dark mass of warriors who,
with a loud shout, rushed to assail them. Surprised and disconcerted,
they retreated in confusion to the height. When El Zagal heard of a
Christian force in the defile, he doubted some counter-plan of the
enemy, and gave orders to light the mountain-fires. On a signal given
bright flames sprang up on every height from pyres of wood prepared
for the purpose: cliff blazed out after cliff until the whole atmosphere
was in a glow of furnace light.

The ruddy glare lit up the glens and passes, and fell strongly upon
the Christian camp, revealing all its tents and every post and
bulwark. Wherever El Zagal turned his eyes he beheld the light of
his fires flashed back from cuirass and helm and sparkling lance; he
beheld a grove of spears planted in every pass, every assailable
point bristling with arms, and squadrons of horse and foot in battle
array awaiting his attack.

In fact, his letter to the alcayde of Velez Malaga had been
intercepted by the vigilant Ferdinand, the renegado messenger
hanged, and secret measures taken after nightfall to give the
Moors a warm reception. El Zagal saw that his plan of surprise was
discovered and foiled; furious with disappointment, he ordered his
troops forward to the attack. They rushed down the defile, but
were again encountered by the mass of Christian warriors, being the
advance guard of the army commanded by Don Hurtado de Mendoza,
brother of the grand cardinal. The Moors were again repulsed, and
retreated up the height. Don Hurtado would have followed them, but
the ascent was steep and rugged and easily defended. A sharp action
was kept up through the night with crossbows, darts, and arquebuses.
The cliffs echoed with deafening uproar, while the fires blazing upon
the mountains threw a lurid and uncertain light upon the scene.

When the day dawned and the Moors saw that there was no co-
operation from the city, they slackened in their ardor: they beheld
also every pass of the mountain filled with Christian troops, and
began to apprehend an assault in return. Just then King Ferdinand
sent the marques of Cadiz with horse and foot to seize upon a height
occupied by a battalion of the enemy. The marques assailed the Moors
with his usual intrepidity, and soon put them to flight. The others, who
were above, seeing their comrades fly, threw down their arms and
retreated. One of those unaccountable panics which now and then
seize upon great bodies of people, and to which the light-spirited
Moors were prone, now spread throughout the camp. They were
terrified, they knew not why nor at what, and, throwing away swords,
lances, breast-plates, crossbows, everything that could impede their
motions, scattered themselves wildly in every direction. They fled
without pursuers--from the glimpse of each other's arms, from the
sound of each other's footsteps. Reduan de Vanegas, the brave
alcayde of Granada, alone succeeded in collecting a body of the
fugitives; he made a circuit with them through the passes of the
mountain, and, forcing his way across a weak part of the Christian
lines, galloped toward Velez Malaga. The rest of the Moorish host
was completely scattered. In vain did El Zagal and his knights attempt
to rally them; they were left almost alone, and had to consult their
own security by flight.

The marques of Cadiz, finding no opposition, ascended from height
to height, cautiously reconnoitring and fearful of some stratagem or
ambush. All, however, was quiet. He reached with his men the place
which the Moorish army had occupied: the heights were abandoned
and strewed with cuirasses, scimetars, crossbows, and other weapons.
His force was too small to pursue the enemy, but returned to the royal
camp laden with spoils.

Ferdinand at first could not credit so signal and miraculous a defeat,
but suspected some lurking stratagem. He ordered, therefore, that
a strict watch should be maintained throughout the camp and every
one be ready for instant action. The following night a thousand
cavaliers and hidalgos kept guard about the royal tent, as they
had done for several preceding nights; nor did the king relax this
vigilance until he received certain intelligence that the enemy was
completely scattered and El Zagal flying in confusion.

The tidings of this rout and of the safety of the Christian army
arrived at Cordova just as reinforcements were on the point of
setting out. The anxiety and alarm of the queen and the public
were turned to transports of joy and gratitude. The forces were
disbanded, solemn processions were made, and "Te Deums"
chanted in the churches for so signal a victory.