The principal street of the town now presented a ruinous and desolate aspect; both parties were concentrating their efforts in this spot, and here the combat raged with the greatest violence. Again the blast swept along, bearing before it the masses of black suffocating vapour, but in a clearer interval the eagle glance of Alonso de Aguilar had descried the terrible form of El Feri, now animating his followers, and now darting amongst the foremost of the assailants. He eagerly rushed forward to encounter hand to hand the formidable enemy of the Christians, crying aloud,——
"Turn, rebel Moor; turn, traitor, and receive thy reward from the sword of Alonso de Aguilar." El Feri readily obeyed the summons, and springing upon his enemy, with his uplifted weapon he dealt a tremendous blow on the shield of Aguilar and almost clove it asunder. A furious combat ensued, the results of which were soon lost in a huge mass of smoke. But now a wild cry rent the air; it was the death knell of the Moors, that rung prophetic on the blast—hope affrighted fled from their hearts, for El Feri had fallen. The mighty chief drew his stern features into a condensed expression of resolute despair; his face assumed an ashy hue, and his frozen lip curled with an expression of scornful defiance. Dimly but ferociously his eyes were bent on his conqueror, whilst his sinewy hand grasped firmly the weapon it could no longer wield. The gigantic frame of the Moor was convulsed, and his soul struggled fiercely to recover the lost energies of its frame. El Feri had fallen, but even prostrate and defenceless, he seemed still formidable; for even in its ruins, manly strength and noble courage must ever strike the mind with a sensation of awe.
Don Alonso de Aguilar gazed intently on the foe now lying at his feet. A single blow, and his country would be for ever freed from her most redoubted enemy. But Don Alonso beheld that enemy defenceless, and his arm refused to strike, for his heart was too generous to admit at that moment of political considerations: he turned, therefore, and pursued his victorious course against those who were still able to offer resistance.
Meantime Don Antonio de Leyva had succeeded in driving Cañeri out of the town. Before this chief the houseless Moors fled in confusion and dismay. By the gloomy reflection that reddened the sky, a caravan was now seen moving in irregular groups towards the thickest recesses of the mountains. As the fugitives who composed it looked behind, they saw their late dwellings fast reducing to ashes; but alas! they deplored not the sight of their flaming homes, for they who had adopted the wilderness for their country, cared but little on what spot their habitations were fixed. They left behind pledges far more endearing, in whom their loss was irremediable, for amongst the flying throng, there was not one who had not to lament a father, a husband or a son, whose remains were soon to mingle their ashes with those of their dwellings.
Don Alonso de Aguilar soon put to flight the few that still remained, and he pursued his march through streets obstructed at every step with broken armour, masses of the falling houses, or the more distressing impediments of mangled and bleeding bodies. The fire lighted his steps through that scene of horror, and often his unguided tread was answered by a smothered groan from a dying man, who was still sensible of the rude pressure. He saw many a Moor, grim in the last writhings of death, still betraying symptoms of unconquered hatred; and then he stumbled on the bodies of his valiant comrades, some of whom he recognized,—the bravest of his band! For many were the victims about to perish in the flames, and mingle their ashes in that vast ruin, where Moors and Christians, separated by mutual hate in life, would be finally united in the embrace of death.
Some of the unfortunate wounded mournfully supplicated their comrades that passed over them to terminate their sufferings; and others, who were already deprived of the powers of speech, sent an imploring look of sorrowful import. Aguilar saw the helpless victims he could not assist, and his compassion was strongly excited, as he pressed forward in the pursuit of the flying enemy. Thus he traversed the deserted and perishing town, when he was suddenly arrested by the piercing shrieks of a female in distress.
He paused, and surveying the place, he perceived that they proceeded from a large house to which the devouring flames had already communicated. Don Alonso boldly rushed forward; his pity required no stimulus, but yet it was considerably heightened, when as he approached the building, the cries of affliction were clearly distinguishable in the Spanish tongue. He darted with velocity to the spot, and rushed through the fiery clouds that enveloped the house. He passed the entrance—traversed the court—reached the stairs—mounted them with the eager alacrity of youth, and guided by the distressing sounds, he at length attained the door of an apartment which was strongly fastened. In an instant it gave way to his powerful strength, when amidst the obscure fog that was fast filling the room, Don Alonso perceived a female form kneeling on the ground, in the attitude of one who had abandoned all hope from mortal assistance.
The noise of the bursting door had called the attention of the unfortunate towards that direction, and when she beheld her deliverer, she uttered a cry of joy, and sprung eagerly into his arms. But the sudden transition from a state of anguish and despair, to that of hope and life, was too much for her to bear. Scarcely had the lovely sufferer contemplated the prospect of a rescue, than overpowered by tumultuous feelings, her energies faltered; the blood forsook its channels to return to its fountain source, and Don Alonso de Aguilar received a lifeless burthen into his arms. The danger was appalling, for the flames had already enveloped the house, and the undaunted warrior, more apprehensive for the safety of his charge than for his own, hastened to snatch her from the dreadful spot.
Aguilar supported the unconscious female with one arm, whilst with the other he gathered together the light and flowing drapery with which she was attired, lest the inflammable nature of the material might attract the fire. Thus he reached the summit of the stairs. There for a moment he stood aghast, for the wooden steps had already become the prey of the fiery element, and a descent appeared totally impracticable. In this emergency, Don Alonso firmly grasped his lovely burden, and with a promptness of decision and rapidity of execution congenial to his character, he threw himself fearlessly from the place, and clearing the flaming obstruction, alighted on the floor, without sustaining any injury. Dauntless he pierced through the rolling mist; he gained the entrance, crossed it, and arrived safely in the street.
But now he felt anxious for the beautiful being he had snatched from a fiery tomb; he tore away part of her garments which had attracted the consuming flames, and in a short time he recalled her to a consciousness of life and feeling. It was a lovely girl whom Don Alonso had saved, for the excessive emotion under which she laboured was not sufficient to obscure the charms with which nature had so liberally gifted her.