CHAPTER II. THE AMBUSH, THE STRIFE, AND THE CAPTURE.
The dawn was slowly breaking over the wide valley of Granada, as Almamenpursued his circuitous and solitary path back to the city. He was now ina dark and entangled hollow, covered with brakes and bushes, fromamidst which tall forest trees rose in frequent intervals, gloomy andbreathless in the still morning air. As, emerging from this jungle, ifso it may be called, the towers of Granada gleamed upon him, a humancountenance peered from the shade; and Almamen started to see two darkeyes fixed upon his own.
He halted abruptly, and put his hand on his dagger, when a low sharpwhistle from the apparition before him was answered around--behind; and,ere he could draw breath, the Israelite was begirt by a group of Moors,in the garb of peasants.
"Well, my masters," said Almamen, calmly, as he encountered the wildsavage countenances that glared upon him, "think you there is aught tofear from the solitary santon?"
"It is the magician," whispered one man to his neighbour--"let himpass."
"Nay," was the answer, "take him before the captain; we have orders toseize upon all we meet."
This counsel prevailed; and gnashing his teeth with secret rage, Almamenfound himself hurried along by the peasants through the thickest part ofthe copse. At length, the procession stopped in a semicircular patch ofrank sward, in which several head of cattle were quietly grazing, and ayet more numerous troop of peasants reclined around upon the grass.
"Whom have we here?" asked a voice which startled back the dark bloodfrom Almamen's cheek; and a Moor of commanding presence rose from themidst of his brethren. "By the beard of the prophet, it is the falsesanton! What dost thou from Granada at this hour?"
"Noble Muza," returned Almamen--who, though indeed amazed that one whomhe had imagined his victim was thus unaccountably become his judge,retained, at least, the semblance of composure--"my answer is to begiven only to my lord the king; it is his commands that I obey."
"Thou art aware," said Muza, frowning, "that thy life is forfeitedwithout appeal? Whatsoever inmate of Granada is found without the wallsbetween sunrise and sunset, dies the death of a traitor and deserter."
"The servants of the Alhambra are excepted," answered the Israelite,without changing countenance.
"Ah!" muttered Muza, as a painful and sudden thought seemed to crosshim, "can it be possible that the rumour of the city has truth, and thatthe monarch of Granada is in treaty with the foe?" He mused a little;and then, motioning the Moors to withdraw, he continued aloud, "Almamen,answer me truly: hast thou sought the Christian camp with any messagefrom the king?"
"I have not."
"Art thou without the walls on the mission of the king?"
"If I be so, I am a traitor to the king should I reveal his secret."
"I doubt thee much, santon," said Muza, after a pause; "I know thee formy enemy, and I do believe thy counsels have poisoned the king's earagainst me, his people and his duties. But no matter, thy life is spareda while; thou remainest with us, and with us shalt thou return to theking."
"But, noble Muza----"
"I have said! Guard the santon; mount him upon one of our chargers; heshall abide with us in our ambush." While Almamen chafed in vain at hisarrest, all in the Christian camp was yet still. At length, as the sunbegan to lift himself above the mountains, first a murmur, and then adin, betokened warlike preparations. Several parties of horse, undergallant and experienced leaders, formed themselves in differentquarters, and departed in different ways, on expeditions of forage, orin the hope of skirmish with the straggling detachments of the enemy. Ofthese, the best equipped, was conducted by the Marquess de Villena, andhis gallant brother Don Alonzo de Pacheco. In this troop, too, rode manyof the best blood of Spain; for in that chivalric army, the officersvied with each other who should most eclipse the meaner soldiery infeats of personal valour; and the name of Villena drew around himthe eager and ardent spirits that pined at the general inactivity ofFerdinand's politic campaign.
The sun, now high in heaven, glittered on the splendid arms and gorgeouspennons of Villena's company, as, leaving the camp behind, it entered arich and wooded district that skirts the mountain barrier of theVega. The brilliancy of the day, the beauty of the scene, the hope andexcitement of enterprise, animated the spirits of the whole party.In these expeditions strict discipline was often abandoned, from thecertainty that it could be resumed at need. Conversation, gay and loud,interspersed at times with snatches of song, was heard amongst thesoldiery; and in the nobler group that rode with Villena, there was evenless of the proverbial gravity of Spaniards.
"Now, marquess," said Don Estevon de Suzon, "what wager shall be betweenus as to which lance this day robs Moorish beauty of the greatest numberof its worshippers?"
"My falchion against your jennet," said Don Alonzo de Pacheco, taking upthe challenge.
"Agreed. But, talking of beauty, were you in the queen's pavilion lastnight, noble marquess? it was enriched by a new maiden, whose strangeand sudden apparition none can account for. Her eyes would have eclipsedthe fatal glance of Cava; and had I been Rodrigo, I might have lost acrown for her smile."
"Ay," said Villena, "I heard of her beauty; some hostage from one of thetraitor Moors, with whom the king (the saints bless him!) bargains forthe city. They tell me the prince incurred the queen's grave rebuke forhis attentions to the maiden."
"And this morning I saw that fearful Father Tomas steal into theprince's tent. I wish Don Juan well through the lecture. The monk'sadvice is like the algarroba;--[The algarroba is a sort of leguminousplant common in Spain]--when it is laid up to dry it may be reasonablywholesome, but it is harsh and bitter enough when taken fresh."
At this moment one of the subaltern officers rode up to the marquess,and whispered in his ear.
"Ha!" said Villena, "the Virgin be praised! Sir knights, booty is athand. Silence! close the ranks." With that, mounting a little eminence,and shading his eyes with his hand, the marquess surveyed the plainbelow; and, at some distance, he beheld a horde of Moorish peasantsdriving some cattle into a thick copse. The word was hastily given, thetroop dashed on, every voice was hushed, and the clatter of mail, andthe sound of hoofs, alone broke the delicious silence of the noon-daylandscape.
Ere they reached the copse, the peasants had disappeared within it. Themarquess marshalled his men in a semicircle round the trees, and senton a detachment to the rear, to cut off every egress from the wood. Thisdone the troop dashed within. For the first few yards the space was moreopen than they had anticipated: but the ground soon grew uneven, rugged,and almost precipitous, and the soil, and the interlaced trees, alikeforbade any rapid motion to the horse. Don Alonzo de Pacheco, mountedon a charger whose agile and docile limbs had been tutored to everydescription of warfare, and himself of light weight and incomparablehorsemanship--dashed on before the rest. The trees hid him for a moment;when suddenly, a wild yell was heard, and as it ceased uprose thesolitary voice of the Spaniard, shouting, "_Santiago, y cierra_, Espana;St. Jago, and charge, Spain!"
Each cavalier spurred forward; when suddenly, a shower of darts andarrows rattled on their armour; and upsprung from bush and reeds, androcky clift, a number of Moors, and with wild shouts swarmed around theSpaniards.
"Back for your lives!" cried Villena; "we are beset--make for the levelground!"
He turned-spurred from the thicket, and saw the Paynim foe emergingthrough the glen, line after line of man and horse; each Moor leadinghis slight and fiery steed by the bridle, and leaping on it as he issuedfrom the wood into the plain. Cased in complete mail, his visor down,his lance in its rest, Villena (accompanied by such of his knights ascould disentangle themselves from the Moorish foot) charged upon thefoe. A moment of fierce shock passed: on the ground lay many a Moor,pierced through by the Christian lance; and on the other side of the foewas heard the voice of Villena--"St. Jago to the rescue!" But the bravemarquess stood almost alone, save his faithful chamberlain, Solier.Several of his knights were dismounted, and swarms o
f Moors, with liftedknives, gathered round them as they lay, searching for the joints of thearmour, which might admit a mortal wound. Gradually, one by one, many ofVillena's comrades joined their leader, and now the green mantle ofDon Alonzo de Pacheco was seen waving without the copse, and Villenacongratulated himself on the safety of his brother. Just at that moment,a Moorish cavalier spurred from his troop, and met Pacheco in fullcareer. The Moor was not clad, as was the common custom of the Paynimnobles, in the heavy Christian armour. He wore the light flexile mail ofthe ancient heroes of Araby or Fez. His turban, which was protected bychains of the finest steel interwoven with the folds, was of the mostdazzling white--white, also, were his tunic and short mantle; on hisleft arm hung a short circular shield, in his right hand was poiseda long and slender lance. As this Moor, mounted on a charger in whoseraven hue not a white hair could be detected, dashed forward againstPacheco, both Christian and Moor breathed hard, and remained passive.Either nation felt it as a sacrilege to thwart the encounter ofchampions so renowned.
"God save my brave brother!" muttered Villena, anxiously. "Amen," saidthose around him; for all who had ever witnessed the wildest valour inthat war, trembled as they recognised the dazzling robe and coal-blackcharger of Muza Ben Abil Gazan. Nor was that renowned infidel mated withan unworthy foe. "Pride of the tournament, and terror of the war," wasthe favourite title which the knights and ladies of Castile had bestowedon Don Alonzo de Pacheco.
When the Spaniard saw the redoubted Moor approach, he halted abruptlyfor a moment, and then, wheeling his horse around, took a wider circuit,to give additional impetus to his charge. The Moor, aware of hispurpose, halted also, and awaited the moment of his rush; when oncemore he darted forward, and the combatants met with a skill which calledforth a cry of involuntary applause from the Christians themselves.Muza received on the small surface of his shield the ponderous spearof Alonzo, while his own light lance struck upon the helmet of theChristian, and by the exactness of the aim rather than the weight of theblow, made Alonzo reel in his saddle.
The lances were thrown aside--the long broad falchion of the Christian,the curved Damascus cimiter of the Moor, gleamed in the air. They reinedtheir chargers opposite each other in grave and deliberate silence.
"Yield thee, sir knight!" at length cried the fierce Moor, "for themotto on my cimiter declares that if thou meetest its stroke, thydays are numbered. The sword of the believer is the Key of Heaven andHell."--[Such, says Sale, is the poetical phrase of the Mohammedandivines.]
"False Paynim," answered Alonzo, in a voice that rung hollow through hishelmet, "a Christian knight is the equal of a Moorish army!"
Muza made no reply, but left the rein of his charger on his neck; thenoble animal understood the signal, and with a short impatient cryrushed forward at full speed. Alonzo met the charge with his falchionupraised, and his whole body covered with his shield; the Moor bent--theSpaniards raised a shout--Muza seemed stricken from his horse. But theblow of the heavy falchion had not touched him: and, seemingly withoutan effort, the curved blade of his own cimiter, gliding by that partof his antagonist's throat where the helmet joins the cuirass, passedunresistingly and silently through the joints; and Alonzo fell at once,and without a groan, from his horse--his armour, to all appearance,unpenetrated, while the blood oozed slow and gurgling from a mortalwound.
"Allah il Allah!" shouted Muza, as he joined his friends; "Lelilies!Lelilies!" echoed the Moors; and ere the Christians recovered theirdismay, they were engaged hand to hand with their ferocious and swarmingfoes. It was, indeed, fearful odds; and it was a marvel to the Spaniardshow the Moors had been enabled to harbour and conceal their numbers inso small a space. Horse and foot alike beset the company of Villena,already sadly reduced; and while the infantry, with desperate and savagefierceness, thrust themselves under the very bellies of the chargers,encountering both the hoofs of the steed and the deadly lance of therider, in the hope of finding a vulnerable place for the sharp Moorishknife,--the horsemen, avoiding the stern grapple of the Spaniardwarriors, harrassed them by the shaft and lance,--now advancing, nowretreating, and performing, with incredible rapidity, the evolutions ofOriental cavalry. But the life and soul of his party was the indomitableMuza. With a rashness which seemed to the superstitious Spaniards likethe safety of a man protected by magic, he spurred his ominousblack barb into the very midst of the serried phalanx which Villenaendeavoured to form around him, breaking the order by his single charge,and from time to time bringing to the dust some champion of the troop bythe noiseless and scarce-seen edge of his fatal cimiter.
Villena, in despair alike of fame and life, and gnawed with grief forhis brother's loss, at length resolved to put the last hope of thebattle on his single arm. He gave the signal for retreat; and to protecthis troop, remained himself, alone and motionless, on his horse, likea statue of iron. Though not of large frame, he was esteemed the bestswordsman, next only to Hernando del Pulgar and Gonsalvo de Cordova, inthe army; practised alike in the heavy assault of the Christian warfare,and the rapid and dexterous exercise of the Moorish cavalry. Therehe remained, alone and grim--a lion at bay--while his troops slowlyretreated down the Vega, and their trumpets sounded loud signals ofdistress, and demands for succour, to such of their companions as mightbe within bearing. Villena's armour defied the shafts of the Moors; andas one after one darted towards him, with whirling cimiter and momentaryassault, few escaped with impunity from an eye equally quick and aweapon more than equally formidable. Suddenly, a cloud of dust swepttowards him; and Muza, a moment before at the further end of the field,came glittering through that cloud, with his white robe waving and hisright arm bare. Villena recognised him, set his teeth hard, and puttingspurs to his charger, met the rush. Muza swerved aside, just as theheavy falchion swung over his head, and by a back stroke of his owncimiter, shore through the cuirass just above the hip-joint, and theblood followed the blade. The brave cavaliers saw the danger of theirchief; three of their number darted forward, and came in time toseparate the combatants.
Muza stayed not to encounter the new reinforcement; but speeding acrossthe plain, was soon seen rallying his own scattered cavalry, andpouring them down, in one general body, upon the scanty remnant of theSpaniards.
"Our day is come!" said the good knight Villena, with bitterresignation. "Nothing is left for us, my friends, but to give up ourlives--an example how Spanish warriors should live and die. May God andthe Holy Mother forgive our sins and shorten our purgatory!"
Just as he spoke, a clarion was heard at a distance and the sharpenedsenses of the knights caught the ring of advancing hoofs.
"We are saved!" cried Estevon de Suzon, rising on his stirrups. Whilehe spoke, the dashing stream of the Moorish horse broke over the littleband; and Estevon beheld bent upon himself the dark eyes and quiveringlip of Muza Ben Abil Gazan. That noble knight had never, perhaps, tillthen known fear; but he felt his heart stand still, as he now stoodopposed to that irresistible foe.
"The dark fiend guides his blade!" thought De Suzon; "but I was shrivenbut yestermorn." The thought restored his wonted courage; and he spurredon to meet the cimiter of the Moor.
His assault took Muza by surprise. The Moor's horse stumbled over theground, cumbered with the dead and slippery with blood, and his upliftedcimiter could not do more than break the force of the gigantic arm of DeSuzon; as the knight's falchion bearing down the cimiter, and alightingon the turban of the Mohammedan, clove midway through its folds,arrested only by the admirable temper of the links of steel whichprotected it. The shock hurled the Moor to the ground. He rolled underthe saddle-girths of his antagonist.
"Victory and St. Jago!" cried the knight, "Muza is--"
The sentence was left eternally unfinished. The blade of the fallen Moorhad already pierced De Suzoii's horse through a mortal but undefendedpart. It fell, bearing his rider with him. A moment, and the twochampions lay together grappling in the dust; in the next, the shortknife which the Moor wore in his girdle had penetrated the Christian'svi
sor, passing through the brain.
To remount his steed, that remained at band, humbled and motionless,to appear again amongst the thickest of the fray, was a work no lessrapidly accomplished than had been the slaughter of the unhappy Estevonde Suzon. But now the fortune of the day was stopped in a progresshitherto so triumphant to the Moors.
Pricking fast over the plain were seen the glittering horsemen of theChristian reinforcements; and, at the remoter distance, the royal bannerof Spain, indistinctly descried through volumes of dust, denoted thatFerdinand himself was advancing to the support of his cavaliers.
The Moors, however, who had themselves received many and mysteriousreinforcements, which seemed to spring up like magic from the bosom ofthe earth--so suddenly and unexpectedly had they emerged from copseand cleft in that mountainous and entangled neighbourhood--were notunprepared for a fresh foe. At the command of the vigilant Muza, theydrew off, fell into order, and, seizing, while yet there was time, thevantage-ground which inequalities of the soil and the shelter of thetrees gave to their darts and agile horse, they presented an array whichPonce de Leon himself, who now arrived, deemed it more prudent not toassault. While Villena, in accents almost inarticulate with rage, wasurging the Marquess of Cadiz to advance, Ferdinand, surrounded by theflower of his court, arrived at the rear of the troops and after a fewwords interchanged with Ponce de Leon, gave the signal to retreat.
When the Moors beheld that noble soldiery slowly breaking ground, andretiring towards the camp, even Muza could not control their ardour.They rushed forward, harassing the retreat of the Christians, anddelaying the battle by various skirmishes.
It was at this time that the headlong valour of Hernando del Pulgar, whohad arrived with Ponce de Leon, distinguished itself in feats which yetlive in the songs of Spain. Mounted upon an immense steed, and himselfof colossal strength, he was seen charging alone upon the assailants,and scattering numbers to the ground with the sweep of his enormoustwo-handed falchion. With a loud voice, he called on Muza to oppose him;but the Moor, fatigued with slaughter, and scarcely recovered from theshock of his encounter with De Suzon, reserved so formidable a foe for afuture contest.
It was at this juncture, while the field was covered with stragglingskirmishers, that a small party of Spaniards, in cutting their way tothe main body of their countrymen through one of the numerous copsesheld by the enemy, fell in at the outskirt with an equal number ofMoors, and engaged them in a desperate conflict, hand to hand. Amidstthe infidels was one man who took no part in the affray: at a littledistance, he gazed for a few moments upon the fierce and relentlessslaughter of Moor and Christian with a smile of stern and complacentdelight; and then taking advantage of the general confusion, rodegently, and, as he hoped, unobserved, away from the scene. But he wasnot destined so quietly to escape. A Spaniard perceived him, and, fromsomething strange and unusual in his garb, judged him one of the Moorishleaders; and presently Almamen, for it was he, beheld before him theuplifted falchion of a foe neither disposed to give quarter nor tohear parley. Brave though the Israelite was, many reasons concurred toprevent his taking a personal part against the soldier of Spain; andseeing he should have no chance of explanation, he fairly puts spurs tohis horse, and galloped across the plain. The Spaniard followed, gainedupon him, and Almamen at length turned, in despair and the wrath of hishaughty nature.
"Have thy will, fool!" said he, between his grinded teeth, as he gripedhis dagger and prepared for the conflict. It was long and obstinate, forthe Spaniard was skilful; and the Hebrew wearing no mail, and withoutany weapon more formidable than a sharp and well-tempered dagger, wasforced to act cautiously on the defensive. At length the combatantsgrappled, and, by a dexterous thrust, the short blade of Almamen piercedthe throat of his antagonist, who fell prostrate to the ground.
"I am safe," he thought, as he wheeled round his horse; when lo!the Spaniards he had just left behind, and who had now routed theirantagonists, were upon him.
"Yield, or die!" cried the leader of the troop.
Almamen glared round; no succour was at hand. "I am not your enemy,"said he, sullenly, throwing down his weapon--"bear me to your camp."
A trooper seized his rein, and, scouring along, the Spaniards soonreached the retreating army.
Meanwhile the evening darkened, the shout and the roar grew graduallyless loud and loud---the battle had ceased--the stragglers had joinedtheir several standards and, by the light of the first star, theMoorish force, bearing their wounded brethren, and elated with success,re-entered the gates of Granada, as the black charger of the hero ofthe day, closing the rear of the cavalry, disappeared within the gloomyportals.