CHAPTER LXXVIII

Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada

by Washington Irving

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

OF THE DISASTERS WHICH BEFELL THE CAMP.


While the Christian camp, thus gay and gorgeous, spread itself out
like a holiday pageant before the walls of Baza, while a long line
of beasts of burden laden with provisions and luxuries were seen
descending the valley from morning till night, and pouring into the
camp a continued stream of abundance, the unfortunate garrison
found their resources rapidly wasting away, and famine already
began to pinch the peaceful part of the community.

Cid Hiaya had acted with great spirit and valor as long as there was
any prospect of success; but he began to lose his usual fire and
animation, and was observed to pace the walls of Baza with a pensive
air, casting many a wistful look toward the Christian camp, and
sinking into profound reveries and cogitations. The veteran alcayde,
Mohammed Ibn Hassan, noticed these desponding moods, and
endeavored to rally the spirits of the prince. "The rainy season is
at hand," would he cry; "the floods will soon pour down from the
mountains; the rivers will overflow their banks and inundate the
valleys. The Christian king already begins to waver; he dare not
linger and encounter such a season in a plain cut up by canals and
rivulets. A single wintry storm from our mountains would wash away
his canvas city and sweep off those gay pavilions like wreaths of
snow before the blast."

The prince Cid Hiaya took heart at these words, and counted the days
as they passed until the stormy season should commence. As he
watched the Christian camp he beheld it one morning in universal
commotion: there was an unusual sound of hammers in every part,
as if some new engines of war were constructing. At length, to his
astonishment, the walls and roofs of houses began to appear above
the bulwarks. In a little while there were above a thousand edifices
of wood and plaster erected, covered with tiles taken from the
demolished towers of the orchards and bearing the pennons of various
commanders and cavaliers, while the common soldiery constructed huts
of clay and branches of trees thatched with straw. Thus, to the dismay
of the Moors, within four days the light tents and gay pavilions which
had whitened their hills and plains passed away like summer clouds,
and the unsubstantial camp assumed the solid appearance of a city
laid out into streets and squares. In the centre rose a large edifice
which overlooked the whole, and the royal standard of Aragon and
Castile, proudly floating above it, showed it to be the palace of
the king.*

*Cura de los Palacios, Pulgar, etc.


Ferdinand had taken the sudden resolution thus to turn his camp into
a city, partly to provide against the approaching season, and partly
to convince the Moors of his fixed determination to continue the
siege. In their haste to erect their dwellings, however, the Spanish
cavaliers had not properly considered the nature of the climate. For
the greater part of the year there scarcely falls a drop of rain on
the thirsty soil of Andalusia. The ramblas, or dry channels of the
torrents, remain deep and arid gashes and clefts in the sides of the
mountains; the perennial streams shrink up to mere threads of water,
which, trickling down the bottoms of the deep barrancas, or ravines,
scarce feed and keep alive the rivers of the valleys. The rivers,
almost lost in their wide and naked beds, seem like thirsty rills
winding in serpentine mazes through deserts of sand and stones,
and so shallow and tranquil in their course as to be forded in safety
in almost every part. One autumnal tempest, however, changes the
whole face of nature: the clouds break in deluges among the vast
congregation of mountains; the ramblas are suddenly filled with
raging floods; the tinkling rivulets swell to thundering torrents that
come roaring down from the mountains, tumbling great masses of
rocks in their career. The late meandering river spreads over its
once-naked bed, lashes its surges against the banks, and rushes
like a wide and foaming inundation through the valley.

Scarcely had the Christians finished their slightly built edifices
when an autumnal tempest of the kind came scouring from the
mountains. The camp was immediately overflowed. Many of the
houses, undermined by the floods or beaten by the rain, crumbled
away and fell to the earth, burying man and beast beneath their ruins.
Several valuable lives were lost, and great numbers of horses and
other animals perished. To add to the distress and confusion of the
camp, the daily supply of provisions suddenly ceased, for the rain
had broken up the roads and rendered the rivers impassable. A
panic seized upon the army, for the cessation of a single day's
supply produced a scarcity of bread and provender. Fortunately,
the rain was but transient: the torrents rushed by and ceased;
the rivers shrank back again to their narrow channels, and the
convoys which had been detained upon their banks arrived safely
in the camp.

No sooner did Queen Isabella hear of this interruption of her
supplies than, with her usual vigilance and activity, she provided
against its recurrence. She despatched six thousand foot-soldiers,
under the command of experienced officers, to repair the roads and
to make causeways and bridges for the distance of seven Spanish
leagues. The troops also who had been stationed in the mountains
by the king to guard the defiles made two paths, one for the convoys
going to the camp, and the other for those returning, that they might
not meet and impede each other. The edifices which had been
demolished by the late floods were rebuilt in a firmer manner, and
precautions were taken to protect the camp from future inundations.