CHAPTER LXIII

Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada

by Washington Irving

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

HOW HAMET EL ZEGRI SALLIED FORTH WITH THE SACRED BANNER TO
ATTACK THE CHRISTIAN CAMP.


"The Moorish nigromancer," observes the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida,
"remained shut up in a tower of the Gibralfaro devising devilish means
to work mischief and discomfiture upon the Christians. He was daily
consulted by Hamet, who had great faith in those black and magic arts
which he had brought with him from the bosom of heathen Africa."

From the account given of this dervise and his incantations by the
worthy father it would appear that he was an astrologer, and was
studying the stars and endeavoring to calculate the day and hour
when a successful attack might be made upon the Christian camp.

Famine had now increased to such a degree as to distress even the
garrison of Gibralfaro, although the Gomeres had seized upon all the
provisions they could find in the city. Their passions were sharpened
by hunger, and they became restless and turbulent and impatient
for action.

Hamet was one day in council with his captains, perplexed by the
pressure of events, when the dervise entered among them. "The
hour of victory," exclaimed he, "is at hand. Allah has commanded
that to-morrow morning ye shall sally forth to the fight. I will bear
before you the sacred banner and deliver your enemies into your
hands. Remember, however, that ye are but instruments in the
hands of Allah to take vengeance on the enemies of the faith. Go
into battle, therefore, with pure hearts, forgiving each other all
past offences, for those who are charitable toward each other
will be victorious over the foe." The words of the dervise were
received with rapture; all Gibralfaro and the Alcazaba resounded
immediately with the din of arms, and Hamet sent throughout the
towers and fortifications of the city and selected the choicest
troops and most distinguished captains for this eventful combat.

In the morning early the rumor went throughout the city that the
sacred banner had disappeared from the tower of Gibralfaro, and
all Malaga was roused to witness the sally that was to destroy the
unbelievers. Hamet descended from his stronghold, accompanied
by his principal captain, Ibrahim Zenete, and followed by his Gomeres.
The dervise led the way, displaying the white banner, the sacred
pledge of victory. The multitude shouted "Allah Akbar!" and prostrated
themselves before the banner as it passed. Even the dreaded Hamet
was hailed with praises, for in their hopes of speedy relief through
the prowess of his arm the populace forgot everything but his bravery.
Every bosom in Malaga was agitated by hope and fear: the old men,
the women, and children, and all who went not forth to battle mounted
on tower and battlement and roof to watch a combat that was to
decide their fate.

Before sallying forth from the city the dervise addressed the troops,
reminding them of the holy nature of this enterprise, and warning
them not to forfeit the protection of the sacred banner by any
unworthy act. They were not to pause to make spoil nor to take
prisoners: they were to press forward, fighting valiantly, and granting
no quarter. The gate was then thrown open, and the dervise issued
forth, followed by the army. They directed their assaults upon the
encampments of the master of Santiago and the master of Alcantara,
and came upon them so suddenly that they killed and wounded
several of the guards. Ibrahim Zenete made his way into one of the
tents, where he beheld several Christian striplings just starting from
their slumber. The heart of the Moor was suddenly touched with pity
for their youth, or perhaps he scorned the weakness of the foe.

He smote them with the flat instead of the edge of the sword. "Away,
imps!" cried he, "away to your mothers!" The fanatic dervise reproached
him with his clemency. "I did not kill them," replied Zenete, "because I
saw no beards!"*

*Cura de los Palacios, c. 84.


The alarm was given in the camp, and the Christians rushed from
all quarters to defend the gates of the bulwarks. Don Pedro Puerto
Carrero, senior of Moguer, and his brother, Don Alonzo Pacheco,
planted themselves with their followers in the gateway of the
encampment of the master of Santiago, and bore the whole brunt of
battle until they were reinforced. The gate of the encampment of the
master of Calatrava was in like manner defended by Lorenzo Saurez
de Mendoza. Hamet was furious at being thus checked where he
had expected a miraculous victory. He led his troops repeatedly to
the attack, hoping to force the gates before succor should arrive: they
fought with vehement ardor, but were as often repulsed, and every
time they returned to the assault they found their enemies doubled
in number. The Christians opened a cross-fire of all kinds of missiles
from their bulwarks; the Moors could effect but little damage upon a
foe thus protected behind their works, while they themselves were
exposed from head to foot. The Christians singled out the most
conspicuous cavaliers, the greater part of whom were either slain
or wounded. Still, the Moors, infatuated by the predictions of the
prophet, fought desperately and devotedly, and they were furious
to revenge the slaughter of their leaders. They rushed upon certain
death, endeavoring madly to scale the bulwarks or force the gates,
and fell amidst showers of darts and lances, filling the ditches with
their mangled bodies.

Hamet el Zegri raged along the front of the bulwarks seeking an
opening for attack. He gnashed his teeth with fury as he saw so
many of his chosen warriors slain around him. He seemed to have
a charmed life, for, though constantly in the hottest of the fight
amidst showers of missiles, he still escaped uninjured. Blindly
confiding in the prophecy of victory, he continued to urge on his
devoted troops. The dervise too ran like a maniac through the ranks,
waving his white banner and inciting the Moors by howlings rather
than by shouts. "Fear not! the victory is ours, for so it is written!"
cried he. In the midst of his frenzy a stone from a catapult struck
him in the head and dashed out his bewildered brains.*

*Garibay, lib. 18, c. 33.


When the Moors beheld their prophet slain and his banner in the
dust, they were seized with despair and fled in confusion to the
city. Hamet el Zegri made some effort to rally them, but was himself
confounded by the fall of the dervise. He covered the flight of his
broken forces, turning repeatedly upon their pursuers and slowly
making his retreat into the city.

The inhabitants of Malaga witnessed from their walls with trembling
anxiety the whole of this disastrous conflict. At the first onset,
when they beheld the guards of the camp put to flight, they
exclaimed, "Allah has given us the victory!" and they sent up shouts
of triumph. Their exultation, however, was soon turned into doubt
when they beheld their troops repulsed in repeated attacks. They
could see from time to time some distinguished warrior laid low and
others brought back bleeding to the city. When at length the sacred
banner fell and the routed troops came flying to the gates, pursued
and cut down by the foe, horror and despair seized upon the populace.

As Hamet entered the gates he heard nothing but loud lamentations:
mothers whose sons had been slain shrieked curses after him as he
passed; some in the anguish of their hearts threw down their
famishing babes before him, exclaiming, "Trample on them with thy
horse's feet, for we have no food to give them, and we cannot endure
their cries." All heaped execrations on his head as the cause of the
woes of Malaga.

The warlike part of the citizens also, and many warriors who with
their wives and children had taken refuge in Malaga from the
mountain-fortresses, now joined in the popular clamor, for their
hearts were overcome by the sufferings of their families.

Hamet el Zegri found it impossible to withstand this torrent of
lamentations, curses, and reproaches. His military ascendancy was
at an end, for most of his officers and the prime warriors of his
African band had fallen in this disastrous sally. Turning his back,
therefore, upon the city and abandoning it to its own counsels, he
retired with the remnant of his Gomeres to his stronghold in the
Gibralfaro.