Chapter 34

Un farouche silence, enfant de la fureur, A ces bruyants éclats succède avec horreur. D'un bras déterminé, d'un oeil brulant de rage, Parmi ses ennemis chacun s'ouvre un passage.

_La Henriade._

Now yield thee, or by him who made The world! thy heart-blood dyes my blade.-- Thy threats, thy mercy I despise, Let recreant yield, who fears to die.--

_Sir Walter Scott._

The shadows of evening were falling round when Alonso de Aguilar and his gallant army arrived at the plain that skirts the mountain of the Sierra Bermeja. The rebels, with El Feri de Benastepar at their head, who had already been worsted in the plain, had resolved not to hazard another battle, but to keep possession of the mountains, confident of the advantages of their position. El Feri, therefore, having secured all the heights and passes of the Sierra, beheld with inward satisfaction the approach of the enemy; indeed, his situation could not be improved; nature had fashioned an impregnable fortress in the whole circumference of that huge mountain; large masses of rock frowned at intervals around the summit and extended down the sides, and the hollows were filled up with large clumps of trees, the growth of ages. There was only one path by which an ascent appeared practicable, narrow, steep and tortuous, and this perilous pass from the nature of its position might be defended by a handful of brave men; numerous small ravines were likewise observable, by which a laborious and difficult ascent might be attempted, although they were almost choaked with different impediments, being the beds of the torrents which at times poured their headlong course down the sides of the mountain.

The Christians beheld with dread the formidable array which the Sierra presented. The Moors from the adjacent country had flocked to the standard of El Feri, confiding in the prosperous turn which their enterprise was likely to take; they manifested both their hopes and defiance by a prolonged succession of shouts and barbaric yells, which, in lengthened and fearful clamour, were reverberated through the rocky passes and solitary caverns of those mountains.

Alonso de Aguilar was struck with the advantages which the rebels derived from their position, and the attempt to ascend the mountain, crowned as it was with desperate men, might be considered more a deed of madness than an act of true courage; but again he thought of the evil which procrastinated measures often produce in a war of this nature--the longer he delayed the attack the greater the number of enemies he should have to encounter, and if the spark of revolt were not immediately extinguished, the whole province would soon blaze out in open rebellion. Most alarming symptoms of the refractory spirit of the inhabitants had already been manifested during the progress of the army from Granada, and Aguilar well knew that the difficulties he had now to surmount, would increase tenfold each day that he suffered to pass without risking a battle.

Thus, although aware of the desperate character of his undertaking, he nevertheless resolved to engage the Moors in defiance of their superior advantages, relying with the most unlimited confidence on the enthusiastic valour of his veteran troops, whose hatred to the Moors was proverbial, and whose bravery and military conduct he had tried on many a well-fought field.

Under this impression, Don Alonso had summoned Count Ureña, and other principal chiefs, to communicate to them his determination.

"Perhaps you will think," he said, "that the resolution I have formed is desperate, but there is no middle course to choose; we must either return inglorious to our homes, or attack the rebels in their strong hold. An assault must be immediately attempted. Our soldiers burn with impatience to meet those rebellious and ungrateful Moors. It is on the confidence of their love to their country, and hatred to their foes, that I found my expectations. However, we will wait until night has closed; darkness will be more favorable to us in the passive warfare which for some time we shall be obliged to carry on. The shafts of our enemies cannot thus be aimed with such fatal certainty. And now, my brave companions, to your posts, and I hope that when next we meet it will be amidst the shouts of victory."

Aguilar divided his army into three parts, the right wing of which he entrusted to the command of Count de Ureña, the left to Don de Antonio Leyva, whilst he, with his gallant son Don Pedro, determined to lead on the centre to the charge by the more direct ascent, where the chief force of the Moors was judiciously placed.

These three bodies were again sub-divided, as a large mass would afford a conspicuous object against which the efforts of the enemy might be more successfully directed. Thus the different commanders having received their instructions, and the signal being given, various columns advanced towards the mountains from their several points of attack, whilst the war-cry, _Santiago y Cierra España_, was echoed from one to another with inspiring courage and animated enthusiasm. The Moors answered the challenge with wild acclamations, looking on the advancing foe as a devoted prey on which they were shortly to glut their long-desired vengeance. The Christians were, therefore, suffered to proceed unmolested in their course lest, by a premature disclosure of the resources of their enemies, they might be induced to retreat, and thus prevent the Moors from obtaining a complete victory. Slowly, then, the Christians began to ascend the rugged and difficult paths of the mountain. The deafening shouts had for some time ceased, and were succeeded by a dismal and deadly silence. The Christians, therefore, continued to ascend in noiseless progression, until El Feri de Benastepar, judging that the enemy was sufficiently drawn into his toils to ensure success for the artful manoeuvres which he had planned, now gave the signal of command, and again the whole mountain rung with an overpowering tumult of cries and yells.

Suddenly the rocks above seemed to be alive, broken into numberless fragments. With dreadful and overwhelming violence their huge disjointed masses rolled from their elevated summits, and gathering a new impetus in their headlong course, rushed down the sides of the mountain, and bounding from point to point with an appalling crash, heaped destruction on the advancing enemy. The ominous and redoubled cries from the summit of the Sierra, rose above the terrific sound of the deadly fragments, and were sufficient to strike dismay into the most daring. Astonishment for a moment paralyzed the Spaniards; yet their intrepidity did not quail in the hazardous moment, though they perceived a heap of mangled corpses swept before them with fearful rapidity. Aguilar could not behold unmoved the destruction wrought amongst his brave followers; and fearing that a second discharge of those terrible missiles might succeed in disheartening them, in a voice of enthusiasm----

"Forward, my brave comrades!" he cried: "those rebels will find that they will sooner tire of hurling rocks than we shall of withstanding them. By suffering we will triumph. On, brave companions, on!"

Aguilar succeeded by his example in instilling into the hearts of his men a degree of maddened courage, which alone could carry them through the obstacles that impeded their course. They accordingly continued fearlessly to advance.

Night had now closed in the most dense and impenetrable darkness. The moon seemed unsuccessfully struggling through a pile of massy clouds, and the scanty light afforded by the dim stars was insufficient to illumine any distant object. Thus the Christians had no means of warding off the dreadful fate which threatened them. They heard, without the power of resistance, the low rumbling sound of the huge rocks that were loosened from their beds, and the crash that followed their ponderous course, as they tore down every object which came before them, mingling all in one vast and promiscuous ruin.

The voice of Aguilar and other chiefs, in hoarse tones, was heard at intervals encouraging and animating their troops, who, wrought up to madness by their loss, had now no other feeling than an ardent desire of attaining the summit, where their enemies lay in security, and quenching their rage in their detested blood. Indeed, the terrors of this dismal and appalling conflict, instead of damping the courage of the soldiers, served only to brace them with redoubled force. Dauntless, therefore, they continued to ascend, unmindful of the cries and groans that rent the air, and although they were sensible that a similar fate might the next moment await themselves. On they proceeded, in the full confidence that some amongst them would ultimately reach the summit, and take ample vengeance for the death of those whom they left behind. Nor did the Moors consider this stubborn constancy and self-devotion without amazement and dread; but El Feri, who read their thoughts, immediately took measures to prevent the consequences with which they might be attended, if he allowed his men to indulge their fears; aware that the best means of keeping up the mettle and ardour of his men was to employ them actively, he ordered a considerable portion of them to descend and meet the enemy boldly in the path. This order was joyfully obeyed, and the Moors rushed impetuously to the attack. Aguilar, who hailed this movement of the enemy as favorable to his troops, by affording them an opportunity of profiting by their superiority, now rushed forward to encounter the charge with increased energy, whilst Don Pedro, with a chosen party, led the van.

The young warrior continued gaining ground; the Moors retreated; and the Spaniards considering this movement as the forerunner of success, boldly pushed on, reckless of the thousand shafts which assailed them on every side. Fresh men supplied, according to instruction, the place of the Moors who retreated; and the wearied Christians had nothing to carry them through the unequal contest but the undaunted courage which had supported them in so many battles. Still they advanced, although the enemy, in spite of the numbers that fell, preserved a fresh and unbroken front, disputing every inch of ground apparently with undiminished numbers.

In the midst of his gallant achievements Don Pedro fell from the blow of a stone, which disabled him from proceeding. His absence soon became apparent; but Alonso de Aguilar pressing forwards to the front, by a desperate effort soon compelled the rebels to abandon their defence, and retreat precipitately to their stations. The Spaniards here halted for a few moments and rallied their forces, on which dismal inroads had been made by the late conflict. Again they advanced in silence and without impediment. Their gallant leader, however, looked on this change with the most gloomy apprehensions; for he conjectured that the Moors were about to renew that system of defence which had been so destructive at the first onset. His suspicions were well grounded. Incontinently another ominous shout rent the air, and the tremendous fragments again rolled down, spreading devastation wherever they passed.

And now, to render the unequal strife more terrific, there fell some broad and scattered drops of rain, announcing the storm which had been gathering in the dark bosom of the swollen and shapeless clouds. Hollow gusts of wind swept through the passes of the mountains, mingling their gloomy cadences with the loud cries of the Moors and the wild lamentations of their victims. And now the pregnant clouds discharged their contents, which poured like an impetuous cataract down the channels of the mountain, whilst from those dark and impenetrable masses fitfully glimmered the livid streaks of lightning, followed by the hollow muttering of the distant thunder. This approaching conflict of the elements Don Alonso beheld undismayed. Boldly he urged on his men, whilst the power of the storm increasing apace, presented additional obstacles to their progress. Nearer the tempest advanced, and the flickering sudden gleams of lightning were succeeded by closely repeated sheets of sulphurous and liquid fire, which in serpentine corruscations illumined those scenes of carnage and devastation, while loud and prolonged peals sounded like the ominous voice of the spirit of destruction riding on the storm, and exulting over the scene of death. But the Spaniards, though moved by the sight of their companions falling around, could not be subdued by the gloomy prospect before them, for it is the attribute of noble courage, while it sympathises with the brave, to continue in the path of honor and duty undaunted and undismayed.

Flash now followed upon flash, and by their livid and unearthly reflection appeared the gallant leader and his band, more resolute in proportion to the fury of the warring elements. The caves and wild recesses echoed with the hollow moaning of the blast, mingled with the shouts of the combatants. Chilling was the scene; more chilling still when the pause made by the raging storm was filled up with the more terrific noise of the falling rocks and stones which came thundering down. Aghast the Christians beheld, by the vivid flashes, the descending destruction; now a block rolled along dyed in the blood of their gallant companions, and again some uncouth and unfashioned fragment had gathered in its career a broken limb, a nerveless arm, or a bleeding leg. The channels were now filled with the water that rushed down the sides of the mountain, forming gurgling eddies around the crushed bodies of the fallen, and mingling their blood with the turbid waters in their descent below.

Such an accumulation of misfortunes began to dishearten the Christians, whose forces were reduced to half their number. Don Pedro, Count de Ureña, and other principal chiefs were wounded, others dead; and an horrific shout on the left, commanded by Don Antonio de Leyva, announced some dreadful catastrophe in that direction.

The renegade, with a valiant reinforcement, had by a dexterous manoeuvre cut off the retreat of the Christians in that quarter; and, though they had fought with the most desperate courage, they were completely routed, and the greater number slaughtered on the spot. Savagely Bermudo dealt his blows on his own countrymen, and vented his diabolical feelings on many brave and innocent men to take vengeance for the wrongs he had sustained from one. But few men escaped from this promiscuous carnage, and those few cut their way with frenzied courage through the ranks of the enemy, bearing the bleeding body of their chief, Don Antonio de Leyva.

The rage of the storm had by this time abated, and Alonso de Aguilar, auguring favorably of men who had withstood, undaunted, such an accumulation of terrors, had pushed forward, and was now midway on the mountain. The rebels beheld his progress with conscious alarm, for though his numbers were considerably reduced and weakened by fatigue, yet Don Alonso was about to reach a space of even ground, in which should he succeed, it would render more doubtful the victory which they had till now considered as certain. Still they continued to roll down their destructive missiles, but these had lost their former power; for though some visited the enemy, yet the greater part stopt in their career, impeded by the trunks of trees torn up by the tempest, or stuck in the spots of marshy ground caused by the descending torrents. The Moors, therefore, abandoned this system of aggression, and perceiving that the gallant band of Don Alonso de Aguilar was extremely small, and that it could not receive assistance from the Spanish forces below, they collected a great body, and determined to oppose the further progress of Aguilar, before he could succeed in reaching the little plain. A desperate contest ensued, in which every Christian exerted his remaining strength, and their present position was so far favorable, that the Moors were not able to overwhelm them with numbers. Thus Aguilar, encouraging his men with the better aspect of their fortune, continued fighting desperately, and gaining ground, whilst the affrighted Moors retreated before his amazing efforts.

But the most exalted courage cannot support the body under the accumulated sufferings of wounds and exhaustion, and Don Alonso at length beheld with a look of melancholy resignation, blended with manly fortitude, the diminution of his numbers, and the state of depression under which they laboured. He could no longer hope to accomplish his daring enterprise, nor effect an honorable retreat. The day, which had now shed its first glimmering light, revealed the forlorn condition of his men: he beheld his once gallant army stretched along the path, which was so completely covered with the dead, that it seemed to be paved with human victims. The Spaniards fought still, but their foes were continually supplied with fresh men, and Aguilar foresaw with a pang of distress that the Moors would ultimately triumph. In this emergency he cast a desponding look on his troops below, who would in vain have attempted to assist him, on account of the distance which separated them.

The followers of Don Alonso were now reduced to a very limited number, but he perceived on their countenances the noble expression of resigned courage and high-minded patriotism. A sad smile of satisfaction was on his lip, as with a firm voice, he exclaimed:--

"Christians, this standard must be planted on the highest point we can attain." Then after a pause he added, pointing to the little plain; "Behold your grave!---- advance boldly--there is the last stage of our existence--and if any one returns to Granada, he may tell the queen that Alonso de Aguilar has redeemed his pledge."

These words were electric--the countenances of his companions brightened, and they seemed to acquire new vigour from the example of their noble leader. They dealt their blows with increased energy, and after a terrific struggle, they at length reached the fatal plain. There they halted at the goal of their glorious career, and Alonso de Aguilar planting the standard of the cross firmly on the ground, placed himself near a rock which he caused to be surrounded by his men. There the devoted warriors resolved to await their fate.

The Moors now rushed on them from all parts with a ferocious joy. But many were those who fell before they could succeed in mastering the brave and infuriated Christians. Man to man they fought, and round the rock the gallant soldiers gradually fell. The heroism of the Spaniards might protract, but could not avert their fall. Aguilar at length beheld himself alone amongst a heap of his fallen men; his armour was broken in many places, and stained with the life-blood which flowed through the crevices; with his left hand he grasped the remains of a banner, and supported himself against the rock, while his right still continued to wield his ponderous sword. The numerous assailants looked with dread and awe on the redoubtable champion, and for some time seemed to be rivetted to the place. But a host was gathering around to rush at once upon the formidable foe, when a giant figure made his way through the crowd, crying aloud--

"Yield thee, Christian, for the Moors know how to respect courage like thine."

"Yield! Never will I yield to a rebel. I am Alonso de Aguilar."

"Thanks to the prophet!" cried the Moor; "look then on thy irreconcileable foe!--I am El Feri de Benastepar."

Aguilar saw the Moor-chief with the fortitude of a noble heart, and rising superior to his adverse fortune, although covered with wounds, and fainting from exhaustion, he sprung forward to meet the advance of his terrible adversary, whilst the Moors awed by the meeting of such warriors, stood around in breathless silence.

The mighty foes closed in desperate combat. But soon Aguilar conscious of his weakness, retired to his original position against the rock, and in that posture sustained the attack. The fresh and unabated force of El Feri became too powerful for the Christian chief, worn out as he was with the loss of blood, and the fatigue of many hours of battle. Aguilar now perceived that to die nobly was the only alternative he could embrace, and accordingly grasping firmly the banner, he continued a resolute but unequal combat. His exhaustion, however, increased, and as he perceived his end approach, he sprang forward, and with one desperate blow, in which he collected his remaining energies, endeavoured to crush his enemy. But the exertion far exceeded his strength, and the same blow that an hour before would have cloven through buckler and hauberk, now fell almost harmless upon the shield of El Feri. The Moor availed himself of the moment, and before Aguilar had time to recover, the scymitar of his foe had cleft through the helmet of Don Alonso, and sunk deep into the brain. The hero fell; with one deep sigh his noble spirit parted from its clay, and the brave, the generous, the heroic Don Alonso de Aguilar was no more![45]

A tremendous shout from the exulting Moors announced the catastrophe to the Christians below: it sounded through the mountain like the ferocious yell of demons revelling over their victim. El Feri stood silent for a moment gazing on his prostrate enemy, and he could not but contemplate with veneration and awe that form which even in death preserved the nobleness and dignity which had distinguished it through life. His helmet had given way, and rolled to some distance on the plain. His black hair silvered with age, and now dripping with his blood, overshaded part of his noble countenance. Shorn of its proud device, his broken shield lay on his left arm, as well as the remains of the banner which he had sworn to defend with his life, whilst his right arm still retained that sword once the terror of the Moors, now lying harmless on the ground. Thus fell Aguilar, and the exulting Moors flocked round his corpse, led by an instinctive curiosity to behold the prostrate warrior so long the object of their dread.