The Knight Of The Exploits
The dull monotony of sieges, of which there were many during the war with
Granada, was little to the taste of the valorous Spanish cavaliers. They
burned for adventure, and were ever ready for daring exploits, the more
welcome the more dangerous they promised to be. One day during the siege
of Baza, a strong city in El Zagal's dominions, two of these spirited
young cavaliers, Francisco de Bazan and Antonio de Cueva, were seated on<
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the ramparts of the siege works, bewailing the dull life to which they
were confined. They were overheard by a veteran scout, who was familiar
with the surrounding country.
"Senors," he said, "if you pine for peril and profit and are eager to
pluck the beard of the fiery old Moorish king, I can lead you where you
will have a fine opportunity to prove your valor. There are certain
hamlets not far from the walls of El Zagal's city of Guadix where rich
booty awaits the daring raider. I can lead you there by a way that will
enable you to take them by surprise; and if you are as cool in the head as
you are hot in the spur you may bear off spoils from under the very eyes
of the king of the Moors."
He had struck the right vein. The youths were at once hot for the
enterprise. To win booty from the very gates of Guadix was a stirring
scheme, and they quickly found others of their age as eager as themselves
for the daring adventure. In a short time they had enrolled a body of
nearly three hundred horse and two hundred foot, well armed and equipped,
and every man of them ready for the road.
The force obtained, the raiders left the camp early one evening, keeping
their destination secret, and made their way by starlight through the
mountain passes, led by the adalid, or guide. Pressing rapidly onward by
day and night, they reached the hamlets one morning just before daybreak,
and fell on them suddenly, making prisoners of the inhabitants, sacking
the houses, and sweeping the fields of their grazing herds. Then, without
taking a moment to rest, they set out with all speed for the mountains,
which they hoped to reach before the country could be roused.
Several of the herdsmen had escaped and fled to Guadix, where they told El
Zagal of the daring ravage. Wild with rage at the insult, the old king at
once sent out six hundred of his choicest horse and foot, with orders for
swift pursuit, bidding them to recover the booty and bring him as
prisoners the insolent marauders. The Christians, weary with their two
days and nights of hard marching, were driving the captured cattle and
sheep up a mountainside, when, looking back, they saw a great cloud of
dust upon their trail. Soon they discerned the turbaned host, evidently
superior to them in number, and man and horse in fresh condition.
"They are too much for us," cried some of the horsemen. "It would be
madness in our worn-out state to face a fresh force of that number. We
shall have to let the cattle go and seek safety in flight."
"What!" cried Antonio and Francisco, their leaders; "abandon our prey
without a blow? Desert our foot-soldiers and leave them to the enemy? Did
any of you think El Zagal would let us off without a brush? You do not
give good Spanish counsel, for every soldier knows that there is less
danger in presenting our faces than our backs to the foe, and fewer men
are killed in a brave advance than in a cowardly retreat."
Some of the cavaliers were affected by these words, but the mass of the
party were chance volunteers, who received no pay and had nothing to gain
by risking their lives. Consequently, as the enemy came near, the
diversity of opinions grew into a tumult, and confusion reigned. The
captains ordered the standard-bearer to advance against the Moors,
confident that any true soldiers would follow his banner. He hesitated to
obey; the turmoil increased; in a moment more the horsemen might be in
full flight.
At this critical juncture a horseman of the royal guards rode forward,--the
good knight Hernan Perez del Pulgar, governor of the fortress of Salar.
Taking off the handkerchief which, in the Andalusian fashion, he wore
round his head, he tied it to a lance and raised it in the air.
"Comrades," he cried, "why do you load yourself with arms if you trust for
safety to your feet? We shall see who among you are the brave men and who
are the cowards. If it is a standard you want, here is mine. Let the man
who has the heart to fight follow this handkerchief."
Waving his improvised banner, he spurred against the Moors. Many followed
him. Those who at first held back soon joined the advance. With one accord
the whole body rushed with shouts upon the enemy. The Moors, who were now
close at hand, were seized with surprise and alarm at this sudden charge.
The foremost files turned and fled in panic, followed by the others, and
pursued by the Christians, who cut them down without a blow in return.
Soon the whole body was in full flight. Several hundred of the Moors were
killed and their bodies despoiled, many were taken prisoners, and the
Christians returned in triumph to the army, driving their long array of
cattle and sheep and of mules laden with booty, and bearing in their front
the standard under which they had fought.
King Ferdinand was so delighted with this exploit, and in particular with
the gallant action of Perez del Pulgar, that he conferred knighthood upon
the latter with much ceremony, and authorized him to bear upon his
escutcheon a golden lion in an azure field, showing a lance with a
handkerchief at its point. Round its border were to be depicted the eleven
alcaides defeated in the battle. This heroic deed was followed by so many
others during the wars with the Moors that Perez del Pulgar became in time
known by the flattering appellation of "He of the exploits."
The most famous exploit of this daring knight took place during the siege
of Granada,--the final operation of the long war. Here single combats and
minor skirmishes between Christian and Moorish cavaliers were of almost
daily occurrence, until Ferdinand strictly forbade all such tilts, as he
saw that they gave zeal and courage to the Moors, and were attended with
considerable loss of life among his bravest followers.
This edict of the king was very distasteful to the fiery Moorish knights,
who declared that the crafty Christian wished to destroy chivalry and put
an end to heroic valor. They did their best to provoke the Spanish knights
to combat, galloping on their fleet steeds close to the borders of the
camp and hurling their lances over the barriers, each lance bearing the
name of its owner with some defiant message. But despite the irritation
caused by these insults to the Spanish knights, none of them ventured to
disobey the mandate of the king.
Chief among these Moorish cavaliers was one named Tarfe, a man of fierce
and daring spirit and a giant in size, who sought to surpass his fellows
in acts of audacity. In one of his sallies towards the Christian camp this
bold cavalier leaped his steed over the barrier, galloped inward close to
the royal quarters, and launched his spear with such strength that it
quivered in the earth close to the tents of the sovereigns. The royal
guards rushed out, but Tarfe was already far away, scouring the plain on
his swift Barbary steed. On examining the lance it was found to bear a
label indicating that it was intended for the queen, who was present in
the camp.
This bravado and the insult offered Queen Isabella excited the highest
indignation among the Christian warriors. "Shall we let this insolent
fellow outdo us?" said Perez del Pulgar, who was present. "I propose to
teach these insolent Moors a lesson. Who will stand by me in an enterprise
of desperate peril?" The warriors knew Pulgar well enough to be sure that
his promise of peril was likely to be kept, yet all who heard him were
ready to volunteer. Out of them he chose fifteen,--men whom he knew he
could trust for strength of arm and valor of heart.
His proposed enterprise was indeed a perilous one. A Moorish renegade had
agreed to guide him into the city by a secret pass. Once within, they were
to set fire to the Alcaiceria and others of the principal buildings, and
then escape as best they could.
At dead of night they set out, provided with the necessary combustibles.
Their guide led them up a channel of the river Darro, until they halted
under a bridge near the royal gate. Here Pulgar stationed six of his
followers on guard, bidding them to keep silent and motionless. With the
others he made his way up a drain of the stream which passed under a part
of the city and opened into the streets. All was dark and silent. Not a
soul moved. The renegade, at the command of Pulgar, led the adventurers to
the principal mosque. Here the pious cavalier drew from under his cloak a
parchment inscribed in large letters with AVE MARIA, and nailed this to
the door of the mosque, thus dedicating the heathen temple to the Virgin
Mary.
They now hurried to the Alcaiceria, where the combustibles were placed
ready to fire. Not until this moment was it discovered that the
torch-bearer had carelessly left his torch at the door of the mosque. It
was too late to return. Pulgar sought to strike fire with flint and steel,
but while doing so the Moorish guard came upon them in its rounds. Drawing
his sword and followed by his comrades, the bold Spaniard made a fierce
assault upon the astonished Moors, quickly putting them to flight. But the
enterprise was at an end. The alarm was given and soldiers were soon
hurrying in every direction through the streets. Guided by the renegade,
Pulgar and his companions hastened to the drain by which they had entered,
plunged into it, and reached their companions under the bridge. Here
mounting their horses, they rode back to the camp.
The Moors were at a loss to imagine the purpose of this apparently
fruitless enterprise, but wild was their exasperation the next morning
when they found the "Ave Maria" on the door of a mosque in the centre of
their city. The mosque thus sanctified by Perez del Pulgar was actually
converted into a Christian cathedral after the capture of the city.
We have yet to describe the sequel of this exploit. On the succeeding day
a powerful train left the Christian camp and advanced towards the city
walls. In its centre were the king and queen, the prince and princesses,
and the ladies of the court, surrounded by the royal body-guard,--a richly
dressed troop, composed of the sons of the most illustrious families of
Spain. The Moors gazed with wonder upon this rare pageant, which moved in
glittering array across the vega to the sound of martial music; a host
brilliant with banners and plumes, shining arms and shimmering silks, for
the court and the army moved there hand in hand. Queen Isabella had
expressed a wish to see, nearer at hand, a city whose beauty was of
world-wide renown, and the Marquis of Cadiz had drawn out this powerful
escort that she might be gratified in her desire. The queen had her wish,
but hundreds of men died that she might be pleased.
While the royal dame and her ladies were gazing with delight on the red
towers of the Alhambra, rising in rich contrast through the green verdure
of their groves, a large force of Moorish cavalry poured from the city
gates, ready to accept the gage of battle which the Christians seemed to
offer. The first to come were a host of richly armed and gayly attired
light cavalry, mounted on fleet and fiery Barbary steeds. Heavily armed
cavalry followed, and then a strong force of foot-soldiers, until an army
was drawn up on the plain. Queen Isabella saw this display with disquiet,
and forbade an attack upon the enemy, or even a skirmish, as it would pain
her if a single warrior should lose his life through the indulgence of her
curiosity.
As a result, though the daring Moorish horsemen rode fleetly along the
Christian front, brandishing their lances, and defying the cavaliers to
mortal combat, not a Spaniard stirred. The cavaliers were under the eyes
of Ferdinand, by whom such duels had been strictly forbidden. At length,
however, they were incensed beyond their powers of resistance. Forth from
the city rode a stalwart Moorish horseman, clad in steel armor, and
bearing a huge buckler and a ponderous lance. His device showed him to be
the giant warrior Tarfe, the daring infidel who had flung his lance at the
queen's tent. As he rode out he was followed by the shouts and laughter of
a mob, and when he came within full view of the Spanish army the cavaliers
saw, with indignant horror, tied to his horse's tail and dragging in the
dust, the parchment with its inscription of "Ave Maria" which Hernan Perez
del Pulgar had nailed to the door of the mosque.
This insult was more than Castilian flesh and blood could bear. Hernan was
not present to maintain his deed, but Garcilasso de la Vega, one of the
young companions of his exploit, galloped to the king and earnestly begged
permission to avenge the degrading insult to their holy faith. The king,
who was as indignant as the knight, gave the desired permission, and
Garcilasso, closing his visor and grasping his spear, rode out before the
ranks and defied the Moor to combat to the death.
Tarfe asked nothing better, and an exciting passage at arms took place on
the plain with the two armies as witnesses. Tarfe was the stronger of the
two, and the more completely armed. He was skilled in the use of his
weapons and dexterous in managing his horse, and the Christians trembled
for their champion.
The warriors met in mid career with a furious shock. Their lances were
shivered, and Garcilasso was borne back in his saddle. But his horse
wheeled away and he was quickly firm in his seat again, sword in hand.
Sword against scimitar, the combatants returned to the encounter. The Moor
rode a trained horse, that obeyed his every signal. Round the Christian he
circled, seeking some opening for a blow. But the smaller size of
Garcilasso was made equal by greater agility. Now he parried a blow with
his sword, now he received a furious stroke on his shield. Each of the
combatants before many minutes felt the edge of the steel, and their blood
began to flow.
At length the Moor, thinking his antagonist exhausted, rushed in and
grappled with him, using all his force to fling him from his horse.
Garcilasso grasped him in return with all his strength, and they fell
together to the earth, the Moor uppermost. Placing his knee on the breast
of the Spaniard, Tarfe drew his dagger and brandished it above his throat.
Terror filled the Christian ranks; a shout of triumph rose from those of
the Moors. But suddenly Tarfe was seen to loosen his grasp and roll over
in the dust. Garcilasso had shortened his sword and, as Tarfe raised his
arm, had struck him to the heart.
The rules of chivalry were rigidly observed. No one interfered on either
side. Garcilasso despoiled his victim, raised the inscription "Ave Maria"
on the point of his sword, and bore it triumphantly back, amid shouts of
triumph from the Christian army.
By this time the passions of the Moors were so excited that they could not
be restrained. They made a furious charge upon the Spanish host, driving
in its advanced ranks. The word to attack was given the Spaniards in
return, the war-cry "Santiago!" rang along the line, and in a short time
both armies were locked in furious combat. The affair ended in a repulse
of the Moors, the foot-soldiers taking to flight, and the cavalry vainly
endeavoring to rally them. They were pursued to the gates of the city,
more than two thousand of them being killed, wounded, or taken prisoners
in "the queen's skirmish," as the affair came to be called.