Chapter XCIII
HOW QUEEN ISABELLA TOOK A VIEW OF THE CITY OF GRANADA, AND HOW HER CURIOSITY COST THE LIVES OF MANY CHRISTIANS AND MOORS.
The royal encampment lay so distant from Granada that the general
aspect of the city only could be seen as it rose gracefully from the
Vega, covering the sides of the hills with palaces and towers. Queen
Isabella had expressed an earnest desire to behold nearer at hand a
city whose beauty was so renowned throughout the world; and the
marques of Cadiz, with his accustomed courtesy, prepared a great
military escort and guard to protect her and the ladies of the court
while they enjoyed this perilous gratification.
On the morning of June the 18th a magnificent and powerful train
issued from the Christian camp. The advanced guard was composed
of legions of cavalry, heavily armed, looking like moving masses of
polished steel. Then came the king and queen, with the prince and
princess and the ladies of the court, surrounded by the royal body-
guard, sumptuously arrayed, composed of the sons of the most
illustrious houses of Spain; after these was the rear-guard, a
powerful force of horse and foot, for the flower of the army sallied
forth that day. The Moors gazed with fearful admiration at this
glorious pageant, wherein the pomp of the court was mingled with the
terrors of the camp. It moved along in radiant line across the Vega
to the melodious thunders of martial music, while banner and plume
and silken scarf and rich brocade gave a gay and gorgeous relief to
the grim visage of iron war that lurked beneath.
The army moved toward the hamlet of Zubia, built on the skirts of
the mountain to the left of Granada, and commanding a view of
the Alhambra and the most beautiful quarter of the city. As they
approached the hamlet the marques of Villena, the count Urena, and
Don Alonso de Aguilar fled off with their battalions, and were soon
seen glittering along the side of the mountain above the village. In
the mean time, the marques of Cadiz, the count de Tendilla, the
count de Cabra, and Don Alonso Fernandez, senior of Alcaudrete and
Montemayor, drew up their forces in battle array on the plain below
the hamlet, presenting a living barrier of loyal chivalry between the
sovereigns and the city.
Thus securely guarded, the royal party alighted, and, entering one
of the houses of the hamlet which had been prepared for their
reception, enjoyed a full view of the city from its terraced roof.
The ladies of the court gazed with delight at the red towers of the
Alhambra rising from amid shady groves, anticipating the time when
the Catholic sovereigns should be enthroned within its walls and its
courts shine with the splendor of Spanish chivalry. “The reverend
prelates and holy friars who always surrounded the queen looked
with serene satisfaction,” says Fray Antonio Agapida, “at this modern
Babylon, enjoying the triumph that awaited them when those mosques
and minarets should be converted into churches, and goodly priests
and bishops should succeed to the infidel alfaquis.”
When the Moors beheld the Christians thus drawn forth in full array
in the plain, they supposed it was to offer battle, and hesitated
not to accept it. In a little while the queen beheld a body of
Moorish cavalry pouring into the Vega, the riders managing their
fleet and fiery steeds with admirable address. They were richly
armed and clothed in the most brilliant colors, and the caparisons
of their steeds flamed with gold and embroidery. This was the
favorite squadron of Muza, composed of the flower of the youthful
cavaliers of Granada. Others succeeded, some heavily armed,
others “a la gineta” with lance and buckler, and lastly came the
legions of foot-soldiers with arquebuse and crossbow and spear
and scimetar.
When the queen saw this army issuing from the city she sent to the
marques of Cadiz, and forbade any attack upon the enemy or the
acceptance of any challenge to a skirmish, for she was loth that her
curiosity should cost the life of a single human being.
The marques promised to obey, though sorely against his will, and
it grieved the spirit of the Spanish cavaliers to be obliged to remain
with sheathed sword’s while bearded by the foe. The Moors could
not comprehend the meaning of this inaction of the Christians after
having apparently invited a battle. They sallied several times from
their ranks, and approached near enough to discharge their arrows,
but the Christians were immovable. Many of the Moorish horsemen
galloped close to the Christian ranks, brandishing their lances and
scimetars and defying various cavaliers to single combat; but
Ferdinand had rigorously prohibited all duels of the kind, and they
dared not transgress his orders under his very eye.
Here, however, the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida, in his enthusiasm
for the triumphs of the faith, records the following incident, which
we fear is not sustained by any grave chronicler of the times, but
rests merely on tradition or the authority of certain poets and
dramatic writers who have perpetuated the tradition in their works:
While this grim and reluctant tranquillity prevailed along the
Christian line, says Agapida, there rose a mingled shout and sound
of laughter near the gate of the city. A Moorish horseman, armed at
all points, issued forth, followed by a rabble who drew back as he
approached the scene of danger. The Moor was more robust and brawny
than was common with his countrymen. His visor was closed; he bore a
huge buckler and a ponderous lance; his scimetar was of a Damascus
blade, and his richly ornamented dagger was wrought by an artificer
of Fez. He was known by his device to be Tarfe, the most insolent yet
valiant of the Moslem warriors–the same who had hurled into the
royal camp his lance inscribed to the queen. As he rode slowly along
in front of the army his very steed, prancing with fiery eye and
distended nostril, seemed to breathe defiance to the Christians.
But what were the feelings of the Spanish cavaliers when they
beheld, tied to the tail of his steed and dragged in the dust, the
very inscription–” AVE MARIA”–which Hernan Perez del Pulgar had
affixed to the door of the mosque! A burst of horror and indignation
broke forth from the army. Hernan was not at hand to maintain his
previous achievement, but one of his young companions-in-arms,
Garcilasso de la Vega by name, putting spurs to his horse, galloped
to the hamlet of Zubia, threw himself on his knees before the king,
and besought permission to accept the defiance of this insolent
infidel and to revenge the insult offered to our Blessed Lady. The
request was too pious to be refused. Garcilasso remounted his steed,
closed his helmet, graced by four sable plumes, grasped his buckler
of Flemish workmanship and his lance of matchless temper, and defied
the haughty Moor in the midst of his career. A combat took place in
view of the two armies and of the Castilian court. The Moor was
powerful in wielding his weapons and dextrous in managing his steed.
He was of larger frame than Garcilasso, and more completely armed,
and the Christians trembled for their champion. The shock of their
encounter was dreadful; their lances were shivered, and sent up
splinters in the air. Garcilasso was thrown back in his saddle: his
horse made a wide career before he could recover, gather up the
reins, and return to the conflict. They now encountered each other
with swords. The Moor circled round his opponent as a hawk circles
where about to make a swoop; his steed obeyed his rider with
matchless quickness; at every attack of the infidel it seemed
as if the Christian knight must sink beneath his flashing scimetar.
But if Garcilasso was inferior to him in power, he was superior in
agility: many of his blows he parried; others he received upon his
Flemish shield, which was proof against the Damascus blade. The
blood streamed from numerous wounds received by either warrior.
The Moor, seeing his antagonist exhausted, availed himself of his
superior force, and, grappling, endeavored to wrest him from his
saddle. They both fell to earth: the Moor placed his knee upon the
breast of his victim, and, brandishing his dagger, aimed a blow at
his throat. A cry of despair was uttered by the Christian warriors,
when suddenly they beheld the Moor rolling lifeless in the dust.
Garcilasso had shortened his sword, and as his adversary raised his
arm to strike had pierced him to the heart. “It was a singular and
miraculous victory,” says Fray Antonio Agapida; “but the Christian
knight was armed by the sacred nature of his cause, and the Holy
Virgin gave him strength, like another David, to slay this gigantic
champion of the Gentiles.”
The laws of chivalry were observed throughout the combat–no one
interfered on either side. Garcilasso now despoiled his adversary;
then, rescuing the holy inscription of “AVE MARIA” from its degrading
situation, he elevated it on the point of his sword, and bore it on
as a signal of triumph amid the rapturous shouts of the Christian
army.*
*The above incident has been commemorated in old Spanish ballads,
and made the subject of a scene in an old Spanish drama ascribed by
some to Lope de Vega.
The sun had now reached the meridian, and the hot blood of the Moors
was inflamed by its rays and by the sight of the defeat of their
champion. Muza ordered two pieces of ordnance to open a fire upon
the Christians. A confusion was produced in one part of their ranks:
Muza called to the chiefs of the army, “Let us waste no more time in
empty challenges–let us charge upon the enemy: he who assaults
has always an advantage in the combat.” So saying, he rushed
forward, followed by a large body of horse and foot, and charged so
furiously upon the advance guard of the Christians that he drove it
in upon the battalion of the marques of Cadiz.
The gallant marques now considered himself absolved from all further
obedience to the queen’s commands. He gave the signal to attack,
“Santiago!” was shouted along the line, and he pressed forward to
the encounter with his battalion of twelve hundred lances. The other
cavaliers followed his example, and the battle instantly became general.
When the king and queen beheld the armies thus rushing to the
combat, they threw themselves on their knees and implored the
Holy Virgin to protect her faithful warriors. The prince and princess,
the ladies of the court, and the prelates and friars who were
present did the same, and the effect of the prayers of these
illustrious and saintly persons was immediately apparent. The
fierceness with which the Moors had rushed to the attack was
suddenly cooled; they were bold and adroit for a skirmish, but
unequal to the veteran Spaniards in the open field. A panic seized
upon the foot-soldiers; they turned and took to flight. Muza and his
cavaliers in vain endeavored to rally them. Some took refuge in the
mountains, but the greater part fled to the city in such confusion
that they overturned and trampled upon each other. The Christians
pursued them to the very gates. Upward of two thousand were either
killed, wounded, or taken prisoners, and the two pieces of ordnance
were brought off as trophies of the victory. Not a Christian lance
but was bathed that day in the blood of an infidel.*
*Cura de los Palacios, cap. 101; Zurita, lib. 20, c. 88.
Such was the brief but bloody action which was known among the
Christian warriors by the name of “the Queen’s Skirmish;” for when
the marques of Cadiz waited upon Her Majesty to apologize for
breaking her commands, he attributed the victory entirely to her
presence. The queen, however, insisted that it was all owing to her
troops being led on by so valiant a commander. Her Majesty had not
yet recovered from her agitation at beholding so terrible a scene of
bloodshed, though certain veterans present pronounced it as gay
and gentle a skirmish as they had ever witnessed.
The gayety of this gentle pass at arms, however, was somewhat marred
by a rough reverse in the evening. Certain of the Christian cavaliers,
among whom were the count de Urena, Don Alonso Aguilar, his brother
Gonsalvo of Cordova, Diego Castrillo, commander of Calatrava, and
others to the number of fifty, remained in ambush near Armilla,
expecting the Moors would sally forth at night to visit the scene of
battle and to bury their dead. They were discovered by a Moor who
had climbed an elm tree to reconnoitre, and who hastened into the
city to give notice of their ambush. Scarce had night fallen when the
cavaliers found themselves surrounded by a host which in the darkness
seemed innumerable. The Moors attacked them with sanguinary fury
to revenge the disgrace of the morning. The cavaliers fought to every
disadvantage, overwhelmed by numbers, ignorant of the ground,
perplexed by thickets and by the water-courses of the gardens, the
sluices of which were all thrown open. Even retreat was difficult.
The count de Urena was surrounded and in imminent peril, from which
he was saved by two of his faithful followers at the sacrifice of their
lives. Several cavaliers lost their horses, and were themselves put
to death in the water-courses. Gonsalvo of Cordova came near having
his own illustrious career cut short in this obscure skirmish. He had
fallen into a water-course, whence he extricated himself, covered
with mud and so encumbered with his armor that he could not retreat.
Inigo de Mendoza, a relative of his brother Alonso, seeing his peril,
offered him his horse. “Take it, senor,” said he, “for you cannot save
yourself on foot, and I can; but should I fall take care of my wife
and daughters.”
Gonsalvo accepted the devoted offer, mounted the horse, and had
made but few paces when a lamentable cry caused him to turn his
head, and he beheld the faithful Mendoza transfixed by Moorish lances.
The four principal cavaliers already named, with several of their
followers, effected their retreat and reached the camp in safety; but
this nocturnal reverse obscured the morning’s triumph. Gonsalvo
remembered the last words of the devoted Mendoza, and bestowed
a pension on his widow and marriage portions on his daughters.*
*The account of this nocturnal affair is from Peter Martyr, lib. 4,
Epist. 90, and Pulgar, Hazanas del Gran Capitan, page 188, as
cited by Alcantara, Hist. Granada, tom. 4, cap. 18.
To commemorate the victory of which she had been an eye-witness,
Queen Isabella afterward erected a monastery in the village of Zubia
dedicated to St. Francisco, which still exists, and in its garden is
a laurel planted by her hands.*
*The house whence the king and queen contemplated the battle is
likewise to be seen at the present day. It is in the first street to
the right on entering the village from the Vega, and the royal arms
are painted on the ceilings. It is inhabited by a worthy farmer,
Francisco Garcia, who in showing the house to the writer refused
all compensation with true Spanish pride, offering, on the contrary,
the hospitalities of his mansion. His children are versed in the old
Spanish ballads about the exploits of Hernan Perez del Pulgar and
Garcilasso de la Vega.
Nguồn: Wikisource English — Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada/Chapter XCIII. Văn bản được nhập và định dạng lại; CC BY-SA 4.0, có thể áp dụng điều khoản bổ sung của tác phẩm.