Read Complete Fictional Works of Washington Irving (Illustrated) Online
Authors: Washington Irving
The Moors turned at his words. They beheld the Christians scattered about the plain, many of them without armor, and all encumbered with spoil. “Now is the time!” shouted El Feri: “charge upon them while laden with your plunder. I will open a path for you.” He rushed to the attack, followed by his Moors, with shouts and cries that echoed through the mountains. The scattered Christians were seized with panic, and, throwing down their booty, began to fly in all directions. Don Alonso de Aguilar advanced his banner and endeavored to rally them. Finding his horse of no avail in these rocky heights, he dismounted, and caused his men to do the same: he had a small band of tried followers, with which he opposed a bold front to the Moors, calling on the scattered troops to rally in the rear.
Night had completely closed. It prevented the Moors from seeing the smallness of the force with which they were contending, and Don Alonso and his cavaliers dealt their blows so vigorously that, aided by the darkness, they seemed multiplied to ten times their number. Unfortunately, a small cask of gunpowder blew up near to the scene of action. It shed a momentary but brilliant light over all the plain and on every rock and cliff. The Moors beheld, with surprise, that they were opposed by a mere handful of men, and that the greater part of the Christians were flying from the field. They put up loud shouts of triumph. While some continued the conflict with redoubled ardor, others pursued the fugitives, hurling after them stones and darts and discharging showers of arrows. Many of the Christians in their terror and their ignorance of the mountains, rushed headlong from the brinks of precipices and were dashed in pieces.
Don Alonso still maintained his ground, but, while some of the Moors assailed him in front, others galled him with all kinds of missiles from the impending cliffs. Some of the cavaliers, seeing the hopeless nature of the conflict, proposed to abandon the height and retreat down the mountain. “No,” said Don Alonso proudly; “never did the banner of the house of Aguilar retreat one foot in the field of battle.” He had scarcely uttered these words when his son Pedro was stretched at his feet. A stone hurled from a cliff had struck out two of his teeth, and a lance passed quivering through his thigh. The youth attempted to rise, and, with one knee on the ground, to fight by the side of his father. Don Alonso, finding him wounded, urged him to quit the field. “Fly, my son,” said he; “let us not put everything at venture upon one hazard. Conduct thyself as a good Christian, and live to comfort and honor thy mother.”
Don Pedro still refused to leave his side. Whereupon Don Alonso ordered several of his followers to bear him off by force. His friend Don Francisco Alvarez of Cordova, taking him in his arms, conveyed him to the quarters of the count of Urena, who had halted on the height at some distance from the scene of battle for the purpose of rallying and succoring the fugitives. Almost at the same moment the count beheld his own son, Don Pedro Giron, brought in grievously wounded.
In the mean time, Don Alonso, with two hundred cavaliers, maintained the unequal contest. Surrounded by foes, they fell, one after another, like so many stags encircled by the hunters. Don Alonso was the last survivor, without horse and almost without armor, his corselet unlaced and his bosom gashed with wounds. Still, he kept a brave front to the enemy, and, retiring between two rocks, defended himself with such valor that the slain lay in a heap before him.
He was assailed in this retreat by a Moor of surpassing strength and fierceness. The contest was for some time doubtful, but Don Alonso received a wound in the head, and another in the breast, which made him stagger. Closing and grappling with his foe, they had a desperate struggle, until the Christian cavalier, exhausted by his wounds, fell upon his back. He still retained his grasp upon his enemy. “Think not,” cried he, “thou hast an easy prize; know that I am Don Alonso, he of Aguilar!”—”If thou art Don Alonso,” replied the Moor, “know that I am El Feri of Ben Estepar.” They continued their deadly struggle, and both drew their daggers, but Don Alonso was exhausted by seven ghastly wounds: while he was yet struggling his heroic soul departed from his body, and he expired in the grasp of the Moor.
Thus fell Alonso de Aguilar, the mirror of Andalusian chivalry — one of the most powerful grandees of Spain for person, blood, estate, and office. For forty years he had made successful war upon the Moors — in childhood by his household and retainers, in manhood by the prowess of his arm and in the wisdom and valor of his spirit. His pennon had always been foremost in danger; he had been general of armies, viceroy of Andalusia, and the author of glorious enterprises in which kings were vanquished and mighty alcaydes and warriors laid low. He had slain many Moslem chiefs with his own arm, and among others the renowned Ali Atar of Loxa, fighting foot to foot, on the banks of the Xenil. His judgment, discretion, magnanimity, and justice vied with his prowess. He was the fifth lord of his warlike house that fell in battle with the Moors.
“His soul,” observes the worthy Padre Abarca, “it is believed, ascended to heaven to receive the reward of so Christian a captain; for that very day he had armed himself with the sacraments of confession and communion.”*
* Abarca, Anales de Aragon, Rey xxx. cap. ii.
The Moors, elated with their success, pursued the fugitive Christians down the defiles and sides of the mountains. It was with the utmost difficulty that the count de Urena could bring off a remnant of his forces from that disastrous height. Fortunately, on the lower slope of the mountain they found the rearguard of the army, led by the count de Cifuentes, who had crossed the brook and the ravine to come to their assistance. As the fugitives came flying in headlong terror down the mountain it was with difficulty the count kept his own troops from giving way in panic and retreating in confusion across the brook. He succeeded, however, in maintaining order, in rallying the fugitives, and checking the fury of the Moors; then, taking his station on a rocky eminence, he maintained his post until morning, sometimes sustaining violent attacks, at other times rushing forth and making assaults upon the enemy. When morning dawned the Moors ceased to combat, and drew up to the summit of the mountain.
It was then that the Christians had time to breathe and to ascertain the sad loss they had sustained. Among the many valiant cavaliers who had fallen was Don Francisco Ramirez of Madrid, who had been captain-general of artillery throughout the war of Granada, and contributed greatly by his valor and ingenuity to that renowned conquest. But all other griefs and cares were forgotten in anxiety for the fate of Don Alonso de Aguilar. His son, Don Pedro de Cordova, had been brought off with great difficulty from the battle, and afterward lived to be marques of Priego; but of Don Alonso nothing was known, except that he was left with a handful of cavaliers fighting valiantly against an overwhelming force.
As the rising sun lighted up the red cliffs of the mountains the soldiers watched with anxious eyes if perchance his pennon might be descried fluttering from any precipice or defile, but nothing of the kind was to be seen. The trumpet-call was repeatedly sounded, but empty echoes alone replied. A silence reigned about the mountain-summit which showed that the deadly strife was over. Now and then a wounded warrior came dragging his feeble steps from among the cliffs and rocks, but on being questioned he shook his head mournfully and could tell nothing of the fate of his commander.
The tidings of this disastrous defeat and of the perilous situation of the survivors reached King Ferdinand at Granada: he immediately marched at the head of all the chivalry of his court to the mountains of Ronda. His presence with a powerful force soon put an end to the rebellion. A part of the Moors were suffered to ransom themselves and embark for Africa; others were made to embrace Christianity; and those of the town where the Christian missionaries had been massacred were sold as slaves. From the conquered Moors the mournful but heroic end of Alonso de Aguilar was ascertained.
On the morning after the battle, when the Moors came to strip and bury the dead, the body of Don Alonso was found among those of more than two hundred of his followers, many of them alcaydes and cavaliers of distinction. Though the person of Don Alonso was well known to the Moors, being so distinguished among them both in peace and war, yet it was so covered and disfigured with wounds that it could with difficulty be recognized. They preserved it with great care, and on making their submission delivered it up to King Ferdinand. It was conveyed with great state to Cordova, amidst the tears and lamentations of all Andalusia. When the funeral train entered Cordova, and the inhabitants saw the coffin containing the remains of their favorite hero, and the warhorse led in mournful trappings on which they had so lately seen him sally forth from their gates, there was a general burst of grief throughout the city. The body was interred with great pomp and solemnity in the church of St. Hypolito.
Many years afterward his granddaughter, Dona Catalina of Aguilar and Cordova, marchioness of Priego, caused his tomb to be altered. On examining the body the head of a lance was found among the bones, received without doubt among the wounds of his last mortal combat. The name of this accomplished and Christian cavalier has ever remained a popular theme of the chronicler and poet, and is endeared to the public memory by many of the historical ballads and songs of his country. For a long time the people of Cordova were indignant at the brave count de Urena, who they thought had abandoned Don Alonso in his extremity; but the Castilian monarch acquitted him of all charge of the kind and continued him in honor and office. It was proved that neither he nor his people could succor Don Alonso, or even know his peril, from the darkness of the night. There is a mournful little Spanish ballad or romance which breathes the public grief on this occasion, and the populace on the return of the count de Urena to Cordova assailed him with one of its plaintive and reproachful verses:
Count Urena! Count Urena!
Tell us, where is Don Alonso!
(Dezid conde Urena!
Don Alonso, donde queda?)
* Bleda, 1. 5, c. 26.
ANECDOTES OF AN ENTERPRISE BEYOND THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS
Irving arrived in New York, after seventeen years abroad on May 21, 1832. Two years later, the author was approached by fur magnate John Jacob Astor, who convinced Irving to write a history of his fur trading colony in the American Northwest, now known as Astoria, Oregon. Irving made quick work of Astor’s project, shipping the fawning biographical account by February 1836.
John Jacob Astor (1763–1848) was a German-American business magnate, merchant and investor, who was the first prominent member of the Astor family and the first multi-millionaire in the United States. In 1834 Astor commissioned Irving to write this historical account of the Astoria fur trading colony.
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