CHAPTER XIV
D. John of Austria arrived on the 12th of April, 1568, at Hiznaleuz, where he halted to arrange his solemn entry on the next day into Granada, which was only five leagues off. He was accompanied by a great number of gentlemen, who formed his suite, and at the head of them was Luis Quijada, placed at D. John's side by the King, as adviser and counsellor. The Duque de Sesa, who also had received the King's orders to help D. John, in the same way as Luis Quijada, was to follow in a few days. The same day the Marqués de Mondejar came, with many captains and kinsmen, to visit D. John; he stayed the night at Hiznaleuz to report about the state of the war, and went back early in the morning to Granada, to fill his post in the solemn reception.
The King had written very minute details to the President, D. Pedro Deza, notifying even how many of the officials of the Courts and Chapter were to go to meet his brother. But the King could not regulate the enthusiasm of the neighbours, or the joy of the troops, some of whom had become slack through the indolence of the Marqués de Mondejar, and others discontented through the harshness and severity of the Marqués de los Vélez. So there was universal hope and joy that day in Granada, and all went to meet the new leader through the fields of the Vega, which were as fresh and as full of sunshine and flowers as were their hopes.
The first to set out was the Conde de Tendilla, eldest son of Mondejar, and he reached the village of Alboloto, a league and a half from Granada; with him were 200 men, 100 of the troop of Tello Gonzalo de Aguilar, and 100 of his own, whose lieutenant was Gonzalo Chacón, shortly afterwards thehero of a certain noisy adventure in the capital. The latter were all finely turned out in Moorish costume, the others wearing crimson silk and satin in the Spanish fashion, and all well armed with cuirasses, helmets, shields and lances, as if they wished to show by their dress that it was a day of rejoicing though a time of war. In the same manner came D. John and his men; he wore a breastplate, shoulder-piece, and gorget of burnished steel, garnished with golden nails, "cuxotes" or wide breeches of cloth of silver and gold, over mulberry-coloured silk, caught in by strings of pearls; crimson stockings, high white leather boots with golden spurs, cuffs and ruff of rich Flemish point, and a high hat of cut velvet with a tuft of feathers, fastened with a magnificent jewel of emeralds; on his breast hung the Golden Fleece, and on his left arm he wore a crimson cockade, the badge of his command, which was afterwards changed for a flowing red sash. They met at Alboloto and exchanged compliments, and together returned to Granada, forming a brilliant squadron. First came D. John of Austria between Luis Quijada and the Conde de Miranda, behind them followed the gentlemen and the troops. Meanwhile, at the Royal Hospital, outside the gates, were waiting the President D. Pedro Deza, the Archbishop, and the Corregidor; the first had brought four judges and the magistrates; the second four canons and the dignitaries of the Chapter; and the Corregidor four aldermen and their deputies.
These were those specified by the King in his letter to D. Pedro Deza, but the entire nobility of the town, the principal citizens and the whole neighbourhood were also assembled, without anyone being able or wishing to stop them. The Moors of the Albaicin, discarding their own dress for that prescribed by the much-discussed decree, came from all parts, mixing with their neighbours, making false sounds of joy and gladness, which, according to the subsequent declaration of some, were mingled with curses under their breath on D. John and the Christians in Arabic. The crowd stretched from the gate of Elvira to the stream of Beyro, where the reception was to take place; in the plain of this name were drawn up all the infantry, whichformed a body of 10,000 men, the Marqués de Mondejar at their head. When D. John came in sight, the President and the Archbishop pressed forward to the stream, riding powerful mules with fine trappings, followed by their friends and the Corregidor on horseback with his following, and behind them all the gentlemen and citizens. The first to alight was the President, who very humbly made his compliments to D. John, who promptly threw himself off his horse, receiving the President, hat in hand, in his arms, where he held him a while. He did the same to the Archbishop, and then passed before him, according to their seniority, the judges and the Alcaldes, the dignitaries of the Chapter, the Corregidor and the notable citizens. The President, standing on D. John's right hand, presented them all by name, and to each he said something kind or appropriate, and pleased them all; as besides his natural good heart, which made D. John courteous without affectation or study, he possessed a priceless quality for princes, that of making himself sympathetic and winning affection at first sight.
This ceremony over, Luis Quijada and the Conde de Miranda passed in front of D. John, to leave their places at his right and left hand to the President and Archbishop. In this way they walked to the town, with an incredible crowd of people who filled all the fields. As the suite came up to the first rows of the troops formed up in the plains of Beyro, all the bells of the town began pealing, and the drums to roll; trumpets and clarions sounded, and the arquebuses were fired without intermission, making an impressive salute, the thick smoke of which covered everything as with a transparent cloud, giving to the manly figure of D. John something warlike and supernatural, which charmed the gaze and fired the imagination.
But, suddenly, within the city arose the sound of loud cries and wailing, and D. John saw, leaving by the gate of Elvira, more than 400 women, with dishevelled hair, and torn mourning garments, who filled the air with groans, and running towards him in a disorderly troop, threw themselves under his horse's feet, plucking their hair, beatingtheir breasts, tearing their clothes, covering themselves with dust, and uttering lamentations and shrill cries. Till at last one of them, an old woman, lifting herself up, with her grey hair flying and her mourning garments rent, extended her trembling, withered arms towards D. John, and in a hoarse, disconsolate voice addressed him in these words. "Justice, my lord, Justice is that for which these poor widows and orphans beg, who now must love tears in the place of husbands and fathers; who did not feel so much pain when they heard the cruel blows of the arms with which they were being killed by the heretics, as on hearing that these should be pardoned."
D. John was first taken aback, and then touched, when he learned that these poor women were the widows and orphans of those Christians who lately had been killed and martyred by the Moors, and extending his hand towards them, he performed the miracle of silencing them, and consoled them, as much as he could, by promising to see justice done. Then the lamentations ceased in the city, and D. John saw nothing but hangings and awnings of brocade and cloth of gold, and a crowd of richly adorned dames and maidens, who threw flowers from the windows as he passed and, according to the Moorish custom, glass balls filled with scent. D. John alighted at the door of the "Audiencia," where his lodging was prepared;the house of ill fortune, as the Moors called it, because from it was to come their ruin.
Two days later, D. John being still covered, as one may say, with the dust of the journey, the Moors of the Albaicin sent four of their number on an embassy to him,the most crafty among them, says a chronicler. They wished to sound the new leader and deceive what they presumed to be the inexperience of his youth, as they had deceived the sordid nature of the Marqués de Mondejar, and the fervent piety of the Archbishop. They presented themselves consequently as injured, instead of humbling themselves as offenders, enumerated the injuries that they had received, asking for justice and proclaiming their innocence, and with the greatest effrontery clamoured for the help and protection of D. John for their lives, honour and property.
Photo AndersonDON JOHN OF AUSTRIAAttributed to Sir Antonio MoreIn possession of Don Fernan de Fernandez de Velasco
Photo AndersonDON JOHN OF AUSTRIAAttributed to Sir Antonio MoreIn possession of Don Fernan de Fernandez de Velasco
Photo AndersonDON JOHN OF AUSTRIAAttributed to Sir Antonio MoreIn possession of Don Fernan de Fernandez de Velasco
D. John let them talk freely, giving the sustained and courteous attention which all judges should show to the prisoner who is defending himself; but, when they had finished, he began to speak gravely and firmly, his face so impassive that not all the quickness of the Moors could guess his intentions, answering them in these studied words:
"The King, my Lord, has ordered me to come to this kingdom, for its quiet and pacification; be certain that all those who have been loyal to the service of God, Our Lord and his Majesty, as you say you have been, will be looked on favourably, and honoured, and you will keep your liberties and freedom. But also I wish you to know, that as well as using equity and clemency to those who deserve it, those who have not so behaved will be punished with the utmost rigour. And, as regarding the injuries which your spokesman says that you have received, give me your writing so that I may send and have them remedied, and I wish to warn you that what you say had better be true, as otherwise you will bring trouble on yourselves."
The Moors left crestfallen on hearing this, understanding that they had not succeeded in taking the youth by surprise, and already fearing his resolution and prudence. And they were right to be afraid, as from the first moment D. John was convinced that the mainspring of the rebellion was the Albaicin, that from there it was always being stirred up with help and news, and sustained and animated by well-grounded hopes of being assisted by Turks and "Berberiscos" from the coast. He, therefore, resolved at once to guard the coast in a way that should make landing impossible, and to clear out the Albaicin, that sink of treason and espionage, at one blow casting forth all the Moors from Granada. So D. John put these two proposals before his Council of War, and without a murmur they approved of the first one, agreeing that the Knight Commander D. Luis de Requesens, Lieutenant-General of D. John at sea, should assist, with the galleys he had in Italy, to guard and defend the coasts. As regards the expulsion of the Moors from the Albaicin, their opinions were divided, and each defended his own with more or less reason and courage.But D. John, firm in his purpose, which was upheld by the authority of the President, D. Pedro Deza, sent the advice to the King, begging him, if he approved, to give instructions about the villages, and how to settle these dangerous people beyond the radius of the rebellion.
D. John did not waste time while the King was arranging the business. He first applied himself with great activity and energy to repress the excesses of the captains and soldiers as to lodging, taxes and rapine of all kinds, and to reduce the war to a plan, under one leader, a thing hitherto impossible, owing to the rivalry and mutual dislike of the Marquéses de Mondejar and de los Vélez, and the want of discipline and cupidity of the officers and soldiers, who were more occupied with pillage and booty than in gaining victories or taking positions. They did not fight to win, but to rob, and at times, overburdened with their plunder, they let themselves be killed rather than abandon it; others, already having enough booty to satisfy their greed, fled with it inland, deserting their colours.
Luis Quijada unfailingly helped D. John with his sound judgment and his great experience in the art of war, without sparing him arguments or grumblings, as in other times he had not spared the Emperor, D. John's father, and a month after Quijada's arrival at Granada, the 16th of May, he wrote the following disconsolate letter to the Prince of Évoli, which gives an idea of the sad state of the campaign.
"I owe an answer to your lordship's letter of the 7th of this month: for three or four days I have had no fever and have endeavoured to get up, but I could only do so for a few hours, as my weakness is great, and I return to bed tired out; I eat and sleep with scant pleasure. I will go as I can and not as I should wish, because if ever I felt ill it is now, and I do not want to make myself out such a great soldier that I could have remedied everything; but I do think that much might have been done at the beginning. These damned soldiers, volunteers and citizens, live in a way never before known; they have no discipline and behave in a way that is not reasonable or right for men of war, because they think not of fighting, but of robbing God andeveryone. God's Will be done, but I tell you that such a disaster at such a time has never been known as the one that befell the Knight Commander;[9]we placed our hopes in him to hold the sea, not less than on the soldiers he was bringing us, to produce the good effect that could be brought about. This is over, and so entirely over that for hours at a time and without any difficulty the arms and ammunition these dogs expect, which it is said is a great quantity, can be landed: to receive them there are more than enough people, but not enough to carry them away; according to report the galley slaves will arrive at a signal, and will go to the mountains, to which those of the plain have already retired, taking the remainder of their property, determined to die, and I have no doubt that they will do so if the soldiers were to press them, although the formation of the ground will protect them; but, sir, it grieves me much that these are not soldiers any more than their captains and officers. Then the galleys which came from Italy and the soldiers in them were of so little use that it was best to order them to return, and until Gian Andrea arrives, as D. Álvaro de Bazán is in Sardinia, I do not know if it would be wise to order him to join D. Sancho, that they should not dare to disembark in such a barefaced way, but they will know what is best there. I am afraid we shall pay for the delay of Gian Andrea and the haste of the Knight Commander. These dogs have been making signals for eight days and have assembled 12,000, among whom are 6000 marksmen, the rest with weapons, swords, and slings, and in other parts 8000 are assembled. I do not believe that they are as well armed as they tell us, or that they have as much powder as they make out. Through my illness I have not been near a Council or heard anything for days. You will know what is happening by what the Lord D. John writes; my opinionis that it will be best to press them and bring this business to an end. It might be wrong according to how long the people tarry that we have sent for and whether they are as good as we could wish. The horse soldiers are very good, and wherever they go, however few they be, the Moors do not wait for them, nor please God will they do so unless they alter the order which has been kept here hitherto, as with theirs they can hope for no success; for bad as we are, they are worse, as we at all events try to be more or less worthy men. The Lord D. John does all he can with the assistance of those you know of with all possible care and diligence and in finding out bribes and swindling and wrongs which the officers have done, but it requires great skill, as many arrange that if they lose their money, they have still more left as they give it to the others: they say it is beyond all words, even after they have heard that D. John has named an auditor to look into the matter. It was the wisest thing to have sent the Licentiate Biguera, for many reasons, but specially to see what belongs to His Majesty, which is a great quantity, if it is well looked after, but it is much for one man to do. Oh, my lord! What land to buy! What is worth ten to-day in ten years will be worth a hundred; I should not be sorry to hear you were thinking and finding out about it; for much less than what you gave D. Diego you could buy a better estate: His Majesty must sell and at a good price, and the profit will be great for him who buys. I beg Y.L. to forgive such a long letter, but it is after two o'clock, and I cannot sleep; if it pleases you that I should tell you tittle-tattle I have certainly done so. That Pastrana so much pleases the Princess now it is hers I can well believe: may your lordship and ladyship enjoy it for many long years. I kiss your lordship's hands many times. From Real before the Moors. 16th of May, 1569."
CHAPTER XV
Philip II approved of his brother's proposal and authorised him to expel all Moors over ten and under sixty from Granada.
They were to be assigned places of habitation in the villages of Andalucia and Castille, which the King indicated, and handed over lists to the justices there, that they might know about them.
The King also desired, to avoid scandal and to perform the matter more gently, that the exile should not be inflicted as a punishment, but that they were to be given to understand that they were taken away from danger for their own good and peace, and that, quiet being restored, they would be taken care of, and that the loyal and innocent would be rewarded. Few were so in their acts and none were so in their feelings.
As D. Philip said, it was a dangerous piece of work for two different reasons. It was to be feared that the Moors, seeing themselves found out, would try some last and supreme stroke; and it was equally probable that the populace of Granada, on seeing them captured and without arms, would rise against them and commit some barbarous injury to their persons and property. D. John foresaw all; with great prudence and secrecy he sent to warn first of all, the armed men in the towns and villages of the plain, and on the 23rd of June, the Eve of St. John's Day, he suddenly issued a proclamation, ordering that in two hours' time all the Moors who dwelt in the town of Granada, or its castle, and in the Albaicin, citizens as well as strangers, should repair to their respective parish churches.
The terror of the Moors was great, and fear and surprise stopped all idea of resistance; they knew themselves tobe criminals worthy of the extreme penalty, and they were afraid that they were going to be imprisoned in order that they might be beheaded.
With a great tumult of groans and tears they all ran to the square of Bib-el-Bonut, to the residence of the Jesuits, and, giving mournful cries, called for Father Juan de Albotodo, a Moor by origin, who was so often their protector, helper, and also their dupe. The Father appeared at a window, without cap or cloak, as he was in the house, and heard the cries of these shameless ones, who already did not dare to demand justice, but only craved for mercy from the King, and charity and help to save their lives from the Father. Albotodo was truly a saint, a man of about forty, worn in body and face, very sunburnt and with such black eyes and hair that they proclaimed his Arab origin at once.
Albotodo descended to the square, and these wretched people did and said such things that they touched the Jesuit's very tender heart, and he ran off to the Audiencia without stopping to get hat or cloak, hoping to soften President Deza's heart, or, if necessary, D. John of Austria's. All the people followed him with groans to the entrance of the Albaicin, but no one dared to descend the hill, as the danger and their bad consciences had made cowards of them, as always happens to criminals.
Breathless the Jesuit arrived at the Audiencia, and the President received him as if he saw an angel coming down from heaven. Nothing could have been more opportune than his intervention, because no one could quiet the Moors as he could, and convince them that their lives were not in danger. In such good faith did D. Pedro Deza act, that he spontaneously offered to give a paper, signed with his name, to the Jesuit, assuring their lives to the Moors. The Father accepted his word: and wrote the document himself, which D. Pedro Deza signed, and the Jesuit, satisfied with this, ran back to the Albaicin, waving the parchment above his head, as if to quicken the hopes of the unhappy men he detested as criminals, but whom he cordially pitied as brothers and doomed men.
Father Albotodo read the parchment from the window: they believing it as he was a priest, says a chronicler, decided to go to their parish churches, depressed, gloomy and suspicious, because as soon as their hopes for their lives were confirmed, their anger and spite were rekindled, which only death could extinguish.
D. John ordered the parish churches to be guarded with several companies of infantry, and, having managed to establish order as regarded the Moors, he anticipated any trouble on the part of the Christians by issuing a proclamation, in the name of the King, to the effect that the confined Moors were under the royal protection and care, and had been promised that no harm should befall them, and that they were being taken from Granada out of danger from the soldiers.
Everyone in Granada, however, awoke the next morning uneasy and full of anxiety, because the Moors had to be moved from the parish churches, where they had spent the night, to the Royal Hospital beyond the gates, and there given over to the charge of the clerks and royal enumerators in order that the former should make a list of them, and that the others should undertake to assign them residences in those villages in Castille and Andalucia settled beforehand. Rebellion and mutiny were feared on both sides, and such would have been the case had not D. John foreseen everything. He ordered that all the soldiers should form up at daybreak in the plain between the gate of Elvira and the Royal Hospital, which was the most open and dangerous place. He commanded the first of the companies himself, and the other three were led by the Duque de Sesa, Luis Quijada, and the Licentiate Briviesca de Muñatones.
D. John took up his position at the door of the hospital, which was the most critical post. His standard of Captain-General, which was of crimson damask, much adorned with gold and having a figure of Christ on one side and of His Blessed Mother on the other, was carried in front of him to give him more authority. Pity towards these unarmed wretches was, however, stronger in the inhabitants of Granada than hatred and the desire for vengeance, andall the Moors were able to descend from the Albaicin, cross the town, and enter the hospital without being molested by anyone.
"It was a miserable sight," says Luis de Marmol, an eye-witness, participator in and chronicler of all these events "to see so many men of all ages, hanging their heads, their hands crossed, and their faces bathed with tears, looking sad and sorrowful, having left their comfortable houses, their families, their country, their habits, their properties and everything they had, and not even certain what would be done with their heads."
Twice, however, they were on the verge of a catastrophe, as it occurred to a certain captain of infantry from Seville, called Alonso de Arellano, from a stupid wish to be remarkable, to put a crucifix covered with a black veil on the top of a lance, and to carry it as a trophy in front of his company, which was guarding the Moors of two parishes. Seeing this token of mourning, some Moorish women in the street of Elvira thought that D. John had broken his word, and that their husbands were being taken to be beheaded; they began to weep and cry out in their Arabic dialect (aljamia), tearing their hair, "Oh, unlucky ones! they are taking you like lambs to be slaughtered. How much better for you to have died in the houses where you were born!" This inflamed the feelings of all, and Christians and Moors would have come to blows, had not Luis Quijada arrived in time to calm them, assuring the Moors afresh of their safety, and ordering the crucifix to be taken away.
At the door of the Royal Hospital there was another great commotion. A "barrachal" or captain of the alguaciles, named Velasco, gave a blow to a Moorish boy, an imbecile, who threw half a brick that he was carrying under his arm at the captain's head, wounding an ear; in the confusion it was thought that the injured man was D. John of Austria, as he wore blue like the "barrachal"; the halberdiers fell on the Moor and cut him to pieces, and the same thing would have happened to those that followed, had not D. John urged his horse into the middle of the throng and, stopping everything, said in a voice burningwith indignation and with a commanding look, "What is this? Soldiers! Do you not realise that if misdeeds displease God in the infidels, how much more they do so in those who profess His laws, because they are the more obliged to keep faith with all sorts of people, especially in matters of confidence. Have a care, then, about what you are doing, that you do not break the pledge I have given them, because once broken it would be difficult to renew it, and if God tarries in their punishment it is not for me to forestall His justice."
Having spoken thus, he ordered D. Francisco de Solis and Luis del Marmol, who saw and relate all this, to have the gates guarded and to let no one enter, that the report should not spread, and he told the "barrachal" to go and get his wound dressed and to say that no one had hurt him, but that his own horse had kicked him.
Once out of Granada, that dangerous focus of the rebellion, D. John determined, with his native energy, to finish the barbarous war, the continual drain of blood, honour and money, at all costs and as quickly as possible; but far from dying out it only went on growing, owing to the quarrels and plunderings of the Christians, to such a point that the Moors no longer fell back and defended themselves in the fastness of the mountains, but attacked and took places as strong as those on the River Almangora or the castle of Serón, where they killed 150 Christians and took as many captive, including the Alcaide Diego de Mirones.
These victories puffed up the kinglet Aben-Humeya, and his pride increased quicker than his power, so that he even dared to write as a king to D. John asking that his father D. Antonio de Valor should be set at liberty, who for a common offence had been shut up in the Chancellery of Granada before the rebellion. He sent the letter by a Christian boy, a captive in Serón, and gave him a safe conduct which said, "In the name of God, the merciful and pitiful. From his high state, exalted and renewed by the grace of God, the King Muley Mahomet Aben-Humeya, by him may God comfort those afflicted, and sorrowful through thepeople of the West. Let all know that this boy is a Christian and goes to the city of Granada on my business, concerning the welfare of Moors and Christians, in the way it is usual for kings to treat with each other. All who see and meet him are to allow him to go safely on his way and to give him all aid in carrying this out; those who do otherwise and stop or take him will be condemned to lose their heads." Underneath was, "Written by order of the King Aben Chapela." On the left hand, underneath, in big letters, apparently written by his own hand, was, "This is true," in imitation of the African Moorish Kings, who, for greater grandeur, were accustomed to sign in this way.
D. John did not consent to receive either the messenger or the letter of the rebel heretic; the one, however, was read and the other examined by the Council, who decided to send no reply; but the father of Aben-Humeya, D. Antonio de Valor, wrote that he was being well treated in prison; that he had not been tortured as had been falsely put about, and that he, as a father, deplored his son's rebellion and counselled submission and repentance.
Shortly afterwards Aben-Humeya wrote again to both D. John and his father, this time sending the letters by Xoaybi, Alcaide of Guejar. This traitor read and kept them, in order to accuse and take him, as he in fact did.
CHAPTER XVI
At length D. John set out on his campaign with all his native energy, according to his wishes so long kept in check by his continual struggle with his advisers, all quarrelling, as D. Diego Hurtado de Mendoza so graphically paints in his laconic and celebrated letter to the Prince de Évoli. "Very illustrious sir—Truly nothing happens in Granada; the Lord D. Luis listens; the Duque (Sesa) fusses; the Marqués (Mondejar) discourses; Luis Quijada grumbles; Munatones submits; my nephew is there and is not missed here."
D. John sent one company of the army towards the Alpujarras, with the Duque de Sesa at their head, and himself attacked with the other, first, Guejar, a formidable place in which the Moors had one of their centres of operations, then reinforced with Berberiscos and Turks. By the clever manœuvre arranged by D. John they fell upon it unawares, and took the place and the castle with fewer losses and less difficulty than was feared.
The first to fly was the Alcaide Xoaybi, and he went proclaiming everywhere, to spite Aben-Humeya, that the latter was in treaty with the Christians to end the war and to give up the Moors, and in proof of this he showed a wrongly interpreted letter, kept by him at Guejar. They all believed the evil deeds of Aben-Humeya, which were many, and most of all a certain Diego Alguacil, a native of Albacete de Ujijar, who owed him a bitter grudge, because Aben-Humeya had, by evil intrigue, decoyed away a widowed cousin who was the mistress of Diego Alguacil. The kinglet took her by force, but she always kept up a correspondence with her cousin, to whom she told all Aben-Humeya's doings and plans.
Diego Alguacil made use of these advantages, and with a nephew named Diego de Rojas, and the renegade Diego Lopéz Aben Aboo, a dyer of the Albaicin, and the Turkish captains Huscein and Carafax, who had come from Algeria, contrived a plot, which would have been iniquitous had it not been against such a scoundrel as Aben-Humeya. They forged letters from him to Aben Aboo, ordering him to kill all the Turks treacherously, and then they went to Laujar de Andarax, where Aben-Humeya was, intending to take him and kill him. He, however, had had warning of what was happening, and decided to fly to Valor at daybreak on the 3rd of October, but he was kept that night by a festival, and tired by merry-making, put off the journey until the next day, though the horses were already saddled. This was his ruin, as with the dawn Diego Alguacil, Aben Aboo and the others arrived and assaulted the house, taking him unawares. Aben-Humeya went to the door half dressed, with a crossbow in his hand, followed by the Moorish widow; but, as this bad woman saw at a glance what was happening, she clung to him, as if frightened, but in reality to stop him using his arms or the crossbow, and to make it easy for the others to capture him. This Aben Aboo and Diego Alguacil did, tying his hands with an "almaijar" (turban of gauze) and his legs very tightly with a hempen cord.
They were then joined by the Turkish captains, and in the presence of the Moorish woman began to hold his trial and to judge him. They produced the forged letters, which he, innocent and surprised, repudiated with energy, but they felled him to the ground with a blow, as one already sentenced and executed, and began in his presence to sack the house, and divide among themselves his women, money, clothes and goods, ending by designating Aben Aboo as the poor wretch's successor, who saw in his lifetime his most mortal enemies dividing his whole property. From the corner in which he lay bound, Aben-Humeya watched them and followed them with bitter speeches, which revealed the depth of his fury and the blackness of his heart. That he never intended to be a Moor except to avenge himself onone or the other. That he had hanged his enemies, friends and relations; cut off their heads, taken their women, stolen their property, and as he had fulfilled his desires and vengeance, now they were taking theirs, but not for all this could they take away his heartfelt satisfaction. When he heard that Aben Aboo was designated to succeed him, he said that he died content, because Aben Aboo would soon find himself in the same situation as he was in at the moment.
At daybreak Diego Alguacil and Diego de Rojas took him to another room and there strangled him with a cord, each pulling an end. In the morning they took him out and buried him in a dunghill, as something despicable.
Meanwhile D. John of Austria was driving the Moors from place to place, and from rock to rock, towards the Alpujarras, where the other wing of the army was to cut them off. And such were his ardour, forethought, and wish to participate as much in the responsibilities of a leader as in the fatigues and dangers of a soldier, that the then veteran D. Diego Hurtado de Mendoza says of this, "And those of us who were in the engagements of the Emperor seemed to see in the son an image of the courage and forethought of the father, and his desire to be everywhere, especially with the enemy." Luis Quijada never left him for a moment, restraining at each step D. John's imprudent rashness in what concerned his own person, as he exposed his life with dangerous frequency. However, on this path of triumph, D. John met with desperate resistance from the town of Galera, where even the women fought with the vigour of valiant men. It was a very strong place, situated on a long ridge like a ship, whence its name, and on the summit it had an old castle surrounded by high mounds of rock, which supplied the lack of the fallen walls. In the town were more than 3000 Moorish fighting men, with a good handful of Turks and Berberiscos; so safe did they think the place that they had stored there wheat and barley to last more than a year, and great treasure of gold, silver, silks, pearls and other costly things.
D. John made a careful survey of the place from one ofthe high hills which dominated it, with Luis Quijada, the Knight Commander of Castille, and other renowned captains, and then ordered the batteries and trenches to be prepared for the assault. D. John personally inspected this work as Captain, General, and soldier, and, because it was necessary to go for the esparto grass of which the gabions were made to a distant hill, he went on foot in front of the soldiers to encourage them to work, and carried his load on his back like the rest, even to placing it in the trench. They began, as soon as it was light, to fire at the tower of the church with two big cannon, and in a few shots they opened a high, though small breach, through which to make the assault, and D. Pedro de Padilla, the Marqués de la Favara, and D. Alonso de Luzón entered with others of the courageous gentlemen who followed D. John with his people from simple love of him.
The artillery went on firing at some houses, seemingly of earth, which were beside the church; but when they tried a second assault, so great was the fury with which the Moors repulsed them, and so strong was the resistance these miserable hovels offered, that the Christians had to retire with great damage, leaving several gallant gentlemen who had clamoured to advance penned in. One of them was D. Juan de Pacheco, a knight of Santiago, who was dismembered limb by limb, on account of the rage which the red cross on his breast inspired in the Moors. He had only arrived at the camp two hours before, from his home, Talavera de la Reina, and without more than just kissing D. John's hand entered the fray where he met with his death.
D. John, nothing daunted by this defeat, ordered new mines to be laid and fresh batteries placed, and settled another assault for the 20th of January, which, from the mines exploding prematurely, ended in a second disaster. Both sides fought with great valour, and ensign D. Pedro Zapata succeeded in planting his flag on the enemy's wall with such boldness that, if the entrance had permitted others to help him, the town would have been gained that day; but the narrowness of the place prevented all help,and the Moors fell on him and threw him, badly wounded, down from the battery, still holding his flag, which he never let go, nor could anyone tear it from him, pull as they might. That day died more than 300 soldiers, among them many captains and men of worth, and more than 500 were wounded.
D. John's sorrow changed to ill-concealed rage, and he swore that day to level Galera to the ground and to sow it with salt, and to put all its dwellers to the sword; which he soon afterwards accomplished, as at the third assault, with new mines laid to the foundations of the castle, and enormous breaches made by heavy artillery brought from Guescar, almost the whole village blew up with a dreadful noise and earthquake, which made the hill tremble, and the Christians dashed forward and gained the town inch by inch, until they penned up more than 1000 Moors in a little square, where they slew them without mercy or pity. The streets ran with blood and it made the roads slippery, covering the bushes and brambles as if with crimson flowers. They took great booty of things of much value, and D. John ordered that the great quantity of wheat and barley which the Moors had stored there should be seized; he also ordered D. Luis del Mármol, who relates all these events, to raze the town and sow it with salt, as he had sworn.
D. John of Austria left Galera and went straight to lay siege to the town and castle of Serón, where awaited him the first real sorrow which embittered his life. He encamped his troops at Canilles, and from there he wished to go personally to reconnoitre the place, taking with him the Knight Commander of Castille and Luis Quijada, with 2000 picked arquebusiers and 200 horses.
The Moors of Serón saw them coming, and hurriedly began to make signals from the castle, asking for help. Many went to take shots at the Christians from the slope and then fled, pursued by the Christians, all of whom entered the place, which seemed deserted; the women could be seen running to take refuge in the castle, and from there were making signals. The soldiers gave themselvesup in a shameless manner to sacking the houses, and better to secure the plunder many shut themselves up in them. Suddenly there appeared more than 1000 Moors from Tijola, Purchena, and other villages on the river, in response to the signals, and the panic of the Christians was then boundless.
They fled in a disorderly way, and unwilling to leave the booty they had already in their hands, and encumbered with the loads, they stumbled, fell one on the top of the other, affording a good mark for stones, arrows, and bullets. D. John, from the hill where he was, saw all this confusion, and angry at the danger to his soldiers and at their want of discipline, fearlessly plunged his horse into the midst of them, crying with heroic force:
"What is this? Spaniards! Whom are you flying from? Where is the honour of Spain? Have you not your captain D. John of Austria in front of you? What do you fear? Retire in order like men of war with your faces to the enemy, and you will soon see these barbarians terrified at your arms." But Luis Quijada also saw the danger D. John ran within reach of shot, and he went with all speed to make him retire. At the same moment a ball from an arquebus struck the Prince's helmet, and, had it not been so solid, would have killed him. Like a lion whose cubs are being hurt, Luis Quijada turned and urged his horse on as if he would annihilate the marksman. He then received a shot in the shoulder, and they saw him first stagger and then fall heavily from his horse, among the cries of grief and shrieks of rage of those who were near. D. John covered him with his person, and with wonderful presence of mind, ordered him to be taken to Canilles with an escort by Tello de Aguilar and the horses from Jerez la Fontera.
CHAPTER XVII
Luis Quijada arrived at Canilles very much exhausted on a stretcher made of poles, carried by four soldiers who were continually changed; they took him to his inn, poor and bare, it being war-time and in an enemy's country, and there D. John's doctors hastened to dress the wound. He was consumed with thirst and continually asked for water, and, above all, was anxious about D. John, whom he had left in such a dangerous situation. At last Juan de Soto arrived, D. John's new secretary, good Juan de Quiroga having died months before in Granada. He said that D. John had been able to effect a retreat with great loss, and that he had received such a blow from a stone on his shield that the pebble remained fixed in the metal: a wonderful performance, but by no means unique, considering the strength of those terrible Moorish slingers, who could do as much harm with a stone as with an arquebus.
D. John returned to Canilles after dark, his left arm somewhat hurt by the terrible rebound of the shield on receiving the blow; he went direct to Luis Quijada's room and shut himself up with the doctors. These all declared the veteran's wound to be mortal; but they did not think that death was imminent, and without hope of saving him, they nevertheless believed that they could ward it off for at least a few days. D. John was profoundly grieved, and thought first of all of Doña Magdalena. This lady was in Madrid, in order to have the quickest and most reliable news about the war, and that same night D. John sent a messenger there with a true and detailed account of what had happened. Knowing the great heartand courage of the lady, he did not doubt for a moment that on hearing the news she would at once fly to her husband's side, so he also sent an itinerary, written by his own hand, marking the safest route by which to make this undoubtedly brave journey considering the roughness of the road, the coolness of the season, and even the age of the lady, who was already fifty, and, above all, the continual risk of being surprised and attacked by the Moorish highwaymen, scattered all over that part of the kingdom of Granada, which was then the seat of war.
To prevent great dangers, D. John wrote to all the places where there were garrisons, which most places had, ordering them to give Doña Magdalena a strong and safe escort on her way, and he also ordered that daily two messengers might leave, one at daybreak and one in the evening, so that she should have frequent reports, whether she was in Madrid or on the journey, at the close of each day. D. John wrote these dispatches daily with his own hand after having consulted the doctors and heard their opinion. The first news D. John sent to Doña Magdalena by his favourite and confidential valet Jorge de Lima. He had not judged the intrepid lady wrongly; as no sooner did she hear the terrible news than she at once arranged her journey, without hesitation or foolish hurry, but with the calmness and prudent activity which carry superior souls through difficult situations. She was accompanied by her brother the Marqués de la Mota, D. Rodrigo de Ulloa, several relations and friends, and a good many armed and trusty servants. Doña Magdalena performed this journey as far as Granada in a litter, and from there to Canilles she rode strong mules lent her by the Archbishop; so long were the stages and so short the rests, that in five days she had traversed the sixty leagues which separated her from her lord and husband Luis Quijada. Meanwhile he felt that he wasdying little by little, as he had himself said of the Emperor on the eve of his death. D. John had suspended operations, and looked after and helped Luis Quijada by himself as long as possible. These filial cares touched the old soldier, and he gave him counsels and warnings, and warmly commended good DoñaMagdalena to him, although he did not really believe that he was actually dying.
But when he heard from D. John himself that Doña Magdalena was already on the way, and knew of all the loving precautions he had taken to protect her journey, the veteran's eyes filled with tears, and putting his only available hand on D. John's head, he pressed it with a manly and supreme effort. The advent of death laid bare the tenderness of his heart and smoothed his rugged nature. On the 20th of February, 1570, he was very much exhausted, and for the first time realised that his end was near. He at once asked for the sacraments, and D. John brought a Franciscan friar, one of those who followed the army, and was at the convent of Canilles. He was the then celebrated Fr. Christóbal de Molina, the hero of Tablate, whose dreadful gorge he was the first to cross, on a fragile plank, his frock turned up, a sword in one hand and a crucifix in the other. Owing to the great terror inspired in the Moors, and the heroic emulation of the Christians, to the daring of the friar was due the defeat of the former and the victory of the latter, and the relief of Orgiva, sorely pressed by Aben-Humeya. Fr. Christóbal was small and ill-looking, and at his first visit Luis Quijada did not like him. When D. John, who revered him much, asked the reason, Quijada answered candidly, "He distracts me and makes me worry, thinking how such a wretched little man could do so brave a deed."
Quijada, however, confessed to him with great contrition for his sins, and the same day they brought the Viaticum from St. Mary's and he received extreme unction, waited on by D. John, who most lovingly uncovered his hands and feet to be anointed with the holy oils. The next day, before the auditor of the army, Juan Bravo, he made a long codicil whose clauses all breathe the same simple piety, at times rude, of the great warriors of former times, in which, no doubt, lay the secret of their courage. A celebrated, but by no means devout author, says, "Heaven smiles on the soldier who can dash into the fray uttering the holy war cry 'I believe.'"
Luis Quijada left the poor heirs of all his considerablewealth that was not entailed, and the usufruct of it to Doña Magdalena. He founded granaries and "monts de piété" in his four towns of Villagarcia, Villanueva de los Caballeros, Santofimia and Villamayor, founded schools, endowed hospitals with a special income that the dying should want for nothing, and added clauses referring to Doña Magdalena in this tender way: "And if Doña Magdalena thinks it best to join our estates and found some convent of friars or nuns, provided that they are not the bare-footed nuns, as it is so cold at Campos that they could not live there, in this case I give power to Doña Magdalena and my executors, that joined, she may dispose of and order them, as our wishes have both been to make a perpetual foundation with her property and mine, and that we should be buried together and have in death the same good companionship we had in life."
On the morning of the 23rd Luis Quijada was rather restless from fever, and a little before noon Jorge de Lima arrived saying that Doña Magdalena was only one hour behind. D. John went to meet her at the entrance of the village, and led her himself to Quijada's bedside. In his delirium Quijada did not know her, but at dawn this disappeared as the fever lowered, and he had long, loving talks with her. He again wandered in the afternoon of the 24th, and never again came to himself; this strong life was ebbing away, little by little, and on the 25th of February at dusk he quietly expired, as one who passes from the natural to the eternal sleep. D. John held the hand which grasped the candle of the dying, Doña Magdalena, on the other side, showed him the crucifix, and Fr. Christóbal de Molina, kneeling at his feet, commended the passing soul.
At the moment of death D. John embraced Doña Magdalena, pressing her to his heart, as if he wished to show that he still remained to love and care for her; the lady hid her face for a moment in that loyal breast, and three or four dry, hoarse sobs escaped from her, signs rather of manly sorrow than of feminine weakness; but she recovered herself at once, and with great calmness and devotion closed the dead man's eyes, according to the custom of the times,sealing them with drops of wax from the candle of the dying; keeping the lids closed with her fingers and D. John dropping the wax. There were present the Knight Commander D. Luis de Requesens, the Marqués de la Mota, and the other captains and gentlemen who filled the poor habitation, the rest grouping themselves in the street, waiting sorrowfully for the fatal conclusion.
They dressed the corpse in his war armour, and, as a sign of piety, in a Franciscan's cloak; the hands were crossed over the breast, on which rested his sword, whose handle was a cross. D. John arranged that the corpse should be exposed all the morning before the army, on a litter adorned with trophies and flags, and that in the afternoon they should carry it and bury it in the convent of the Heronimites at Baza, which was the place Quijada had himself chosen, until Doña Magdalena could carry it elsewhere.[10]All the army were on the march with arquebuses reversed, the lances, pikes and flags trailing, the drums muffled, the clarions and pipes untuned. The oldest captains carried the litter alternately, and behind them went D. John, riding a mule, covered to the ground with mourning, he wearing a cloak with a hood which covered him to the eyes, his standard of Generalissimo in front, not reversed like the other flags, but carried high as usual; the Knight Commander followed and all the leaders of the army, more or less wearing mourning, according to what black cloth they could procure in that wretched place.
Doña Magdalena stayed on three days in the camp and then went to the convent of Abrojo, where she intended retiring for a few weeks. She travelled in a very comfortable mourning litter which D. John had provided for her, and he accompanied her for two leagues beyond Canilles, riding by the side of her litter. There they separated: she sad as one having left behind all she loved; he sad too—as sad as one can be at twenty-three.