In the year 1333, a body of Moorish cavalry, seven thousand strong, under command of Abd-al-Melik, a prince of the blood, disembarked at Algeziras. Invited by the rebels of Granada, and expected to unite with the Castilian forces against Mohammed, their operations were begun in an unexpected quarter. With a celerity that indicated the previous arrangement of a well-conceived campaign, the invaders and their countrymen of Algeziras invested Gibraltar. Considering the defences of that fortress, greatly improved since the Castilian occupation, the enterprise seemed hopeless. But either through the peculations of the governor or from neglect of the court to provide the garrison with supplies, the place was in a few weeks reduced to the greatest distress. Deprived of all ordinary means of sustenance, the hungry soldiers devoured the leather of their belts and bucklers. When too late, the difficulty of the situation was realized. The selfish and tyrannical policy of Alfonso XI. had alienated the attachment of his subjects. The voluptuous King had lingered too long in the arms of his mistresses, and the pugnacious nobility were engaged in gratifying their hereditary grudges in the congenial occupation of private war. Official incompetence and delay had prepared the way for great disasters. The African fleet commanded the sea. No force available by the Christians could dislodge from its intrenchments the well-appointed army of Abd-al-Melik, with success within its grasp. The Castilian princes, as well as the nobles, listened with haughty indifference to the patriotic appeals of their sovereign. So low had the royal authority fallen that some cavaliers of the highest rank disregarded the peremptory messages of the crown; others demanded compensation for contributing to the defence of their country. Alfonso, abandoned by the nobles, found his only reliance in the uncertain and selfish adherence of foreign soldiers of fortune, attracted to Spain by the expectation of plunder; and in the co-operation of the grand-masters of the military orders, who, compelled by their vows, furnished a lukewarm and reluctant support to the throne. Long before the Castilian army could arrive at Gibraltar, messengers brought the unwelcome news of its surrender. The standards of the Prophet were raised, amid the acclamations of the soldiery, upon the highest point of the citadel, and the African vessels occupied the harbor. The garrison was suffered to retire with the honors of war, and the exultant Moslems, intoxicated by victory, already pictured to themselves the speedy recovery of the seats of their ancestors and the revival of the ancient glories of the khalifate.
The King of Castile, convinced that the Moors were not firmly enough established in their new conquest to maintain a siege, pushed forward to Gibraltar. Harassed by the enemy’s cavalry, his force reached its destination after many conflicts of doubtful issue and unimportant results, and the Africans were, in their turn, besieged. In their exposed situation, with a vigilant enemy in their rear and the sea patrolled by the African fleet, the Castilians endured unspeakable hardships. The day was one incessant conflict, the night a succession of alarms. The convoys were intercepted. Famine, with its attendant horrors, stalked through the wretched camp. The faltering loyalty and insufficient discipline of the troops encouraged desertion, and the numbers of those spared by want and disease began to be sensibly diminished. Many who fled from their standards encountered a more deplorable fate, for none escaped the vigilance of the Moorish scouting parties; and captives were so numerous that in the market of Algeziras the choice of Christian slaves could be obtained for a doubloon of gold. To add to the general distress, the Emir of Granada was approaching at the head of a numerous body of troops with the design of effecting a junction with Abd-al-Melik. At this critical moment, when the Christian cause seemed all but lost, the course of events was changed by one of those unexpected occurrences which, while common in the annals of those times, is apparently inexplicable unless attributed to the influence of the chivalrous instincts that during the prosecution of the Moslem wars often changed ferocity into courtesy and enmity into friendship. The narrow space which separated the hostile camps was, according to the practice of the age, the scene of many knightly encounters. As the result of one of these, proposals of peace were offered and accepted, a truce of four years was signed, and the enemies, who but a few hours before had fiercely contended for each other’s destruction, now mingled together upon terms of familiar intimacy. An interchange of presents took place between the monarchs of Castile and Granada. The different degrees of civilization existing in the two kingdoms, and the marked superiority of the Moors in the knowledge and adaptation of the mechanical arts, are disclosed by the accounts that have descended to us concerning this exhibition of royal courtesy. The articles presented by the King of Castile are scarcely alluded to by the ancient chroniclers. Had they been objects of curiosity, elegance, or value, Castilian pride would not have been silent concerning them. On the other hand, the gifts of the Emir of Granada, their intrinsic worth, the excellence of their workmanship, the number, variety, and setting of the jewels with which they were adorned, are the subject of minute and accurate description. They included splendid arms and armor; among them a helmet enriched with rubies of extraordinary size, and a sword, with a damascened blade of the finest temper, whose scabbard, formed of overlapping plates of gold, was studded with magnificent topazes, sapphires, and emeralds. Not the least remarkable of these articles of elegant luxury were beautiful silks of many colors and pieces of cloth of gold. In Granada, the manufacture of silk had long since reached perfection, a considerable portion of the great bazaar of the capital was reserved for its merchants, and the superior quality of its product had brought it into great demand in every port accessible to commerce. In Castile, distant scarcely a day’s journey, this fabric, not beyond the reach of persons in moderate circumstances under the advanced civilization of the Spanish Arabs, was practically unknown, and so far from being an article of merchandise was an object of curiosity, and worth far more than its weight in gold.
The ceremonies of the treaty ended with a banquet, and Mohammed, forgetful or regardless of the prejudices of religion, accepted the hospitality of the King of Castile. This concession to a Christian misbeliever offended the bigotry of the Africans; the fancied partiality shown to the Emir of Granada by his host was resented as a national affront; and the ill-concealed mutual jealousy of the rival sectaries of Islam was again emphasized by a bloody tragedy. On his return to the camp, Mohammed was waylaid and slain by his fierce and treacherous allies, who had so greatly profited by his aid, and who could neither comprehend nor suffer the generous courtesy which recognized the virtues of good faith and toleration even in an hereditary foe. The Emir had scarcely breathed his last when the vizier Redwan, by a bold stroke characteristic of the crooked methods of Oriental politics, secured at the same time the public tranquillity and the continuance of his own power. Hastening to Granada, he caused Yusuf, the younger brother of Mohammed, to be proclaimed Emir, and conducted him with a magnificent escort to the Moslem camp, where allegiance was at once sworn to him by the army.
The year 1339 opened with extensive preparations for another African invasion, whose object was avowedly the conquest of the entire Peninsula. Every means to insure success was taken by the shrewd and active Abul-Hassan, Sultan of Fez, whose talents had raised his empire to the first rank among the Moslem powers of the West. Fanatical and eloquent missionaries were despatched to preach the Holy War among the wild tribes of the Desert. A treaty of alliance was concluded between the Sultan and Jaime III., King of Majorca. The friendly relations interrupted by the murder of an emir were resumed with Granada. For the moment, the instinct of self-preservation and the interests of a common faith outweighed national jealousy and the bitterness of theological hatred. An innumerable army was raised and equipped. The African navy, already more formidable than that of the enemy, was greatly strengthened. The possession of Gibraltar and Algeziras invited an enterprise which Moslem fanaticism easily persuaded itself was practicable, and, in case of failure, afforded means of security and retreat. Daily, for months, soldiers accompanied by their families crossed the strait. The sagacity of Abul-Hassan convinced him that by the presence of their wives and children the fidelity of the troops would be confirmed, their valor animated, and their confidence in the success of an undertaking, conducted with the sanction of religion, fully assured. Great numbers of these armed colonists entered Granada, where they were received with every evidence of consideration by Yusuf, who saw, with great satisfaction, this important addition to the military strength of his kingdom.
Information of these events, serious enough in themselves, and doubtless much exaggerated by fear and ignorance, spread terror through the realms of Portugal, Aragon, and Castile. The rivalry of the monarchs, the enmity of the nobles, the ambition of the clergy, were, for the time, laid aside in common apprehension of the approaching deluge. The naval forces of the three kingdoms were united under the command of the Castilian admiral, Don Geoffrey Tenorio. His fleet consisted of but thirty-six vessels, ill-manned, imperfectly equipped, and wholly unfitted to cope successfully with the swift and well-appointed galleys of the Sultan of Fez. In the general consternation, and to counteract the religious fervor of the Moslems, the sanction of divine aid was solicited through the Pope, and the Holy Father issued from Avignon a grant of plenary indulgence to all Christians who should participate in the impending contest.
The commencement of hostilities, near the close of the year 1339, was marked by a series of predatory expeditions, undertaken in turn by each nation, and characteristic of the disorderly and indecisive conflicts so popular in those times. After the capture of considerable booty, the African general, Abd-al-Melik, encamped with the bulk of his army in the plain of Pagana. The Christians, hastily assembled at the summons of their lords and commanded by the heads of the noble houses of Guzman and Ponce de Leon, names subsequently famous in the conquest of Granada, by a forced march surprised the enemy’s camp. Attacked in their tents, stupefied by slumber, and confounded by the din of combat, the Moslems, incapable of either resistance or flight, perished by thousands. Abd-al-Melik, pierced with many wounds, died among the reeds of a neighboring stream where he had concealed himself. The loss of the invaders exceeded ten thousand men, and a multitude of captives were led away in chains. A treasure of great value was secured by the victors; and the booty acquired in the last campaign, composed principally of cattle and sheep, was retaken and appropriated for the use of the Castilian army.
The effects of this brilliant exploit, in which were exhibited alike the skill and prowess of the Castilian soldiery, were, as usual, nullified by aristocratic jealousy and court intrigue. The signal advantage obtained was not pursued; and the Moors, encouraged by the want of spirit displayed by the enemy, were aroused to fresh exertions by the consciousness of power and the mortification of defeat. Bent on revenge, the Sultan, Abul-Hassan, redoubled his preparations for the coming invasion. Every man subject to his authority throughout his vast dominions was enlisted. The ports of Northern Africa resounded with the din incident to the repairs and the equipment of the fleet. The Sultan himself superintended the embarkation of the troops at Ceuta, and assumed command of the expedition. The Moorish armament, comprising two hundred and ten vessels, of which more than seventy were galleys of war, finally sailed from Ceuta; and the Moorish host, nearly two hundred thousand strong, landed without accident at Gibraltar and Algeziras. Every resource at the command of Abul-Hassan had been employed to collect, and to provide with munitions of war, this immense body of men. All the most powerful motives which actuate the human mind had united to further the project of invasion,—royal ambition, private vengeance, the admonition of religious duty, the thirst of empire, the hope of Paradise. For nearly two centuries so formidable a force had not threatened the Christian domination in the Peninsula. It was not without reason that the number of pilgrims to famous shrines was quadrupled; that the intervention of local saints was invoked in every hamlet; that the terrified inhabitants of Andalusia asked themselves if the inheritance of their fathers, won foot by foot from the infidel, was to be wrested from their hands at one blow by the barbarians of Africa; if the cathedral of Cordova, that priceless trophy of conquest, still existing in all its pristine beauty and consecrated to the worship of God, should once more be occupied by the slaves of the Arabian Prophet.
The enemy’s fleet had passed the strait during the night, apparently through the supineness of the Spanish admiral, whose inferior force, however, could not have even delayed its progress; but, from this apparent neglect of duty, a rumor arose that Don Geoffrey Tenorio, one of the most honorable and high-spirited of men, had betrayed his trust for a bribe. Stung to the quick by the unjust imputation, the brave soldier ordered his ships to prepare for battle. His adversaries outnumbered him three to one, and no courage or dexterity could compensate for the disadvantage of position or the disparity of numbers. The conflict was short and bloody. The Christian admiral, after a desperate struggle on the deck of his ship, fell sword in hand; the majority of the Christian vessels were taken or sunk; and only five succeeded in reaching the harbor of Tarifa. Abul-Hassan, from the loftiest minaret of Ceuta, witnessed the victory which established his maritime supremacy in the Western Mediterranean, and destroyed for nearly a generation the naval power of the kingdom of Castile.
In September, 1340, the Sultan of Fez formally assumed command of his troops at Algeziras. Not long afterwards the army of Granada, commanded by Yusuf, arrived, and the long-expected campaign began in earnest. The chronicles of the time differ greatly in their numerical estimates of the allied host. That it was very large, however, does not admit of doubt, and, even after due allowance for priestly exaggeration and Castilian gasconade, it would seem to have exceeded two hundred and fifty thousand men. Of these, nearly a hundred thousand were Mauritanian and Granadan horsemen, the finest light-armed cavalry in the world. The military skill which disposed of this great force corresponded in no degree with the irresistible power it was capable of exerting if intelligently directed. The most obvious course would have been to advance rapidly into the country of the enemy, already paralyzed with fear at its approach, and bring about an engagement before the Christians were fully prepared. The capture of Tarifa was, however, in the eyes of the two sovereigns, a more certain advantage than the precarious issue of a pitched battle on their own ground with the redoubtable chivalry of Castile, and, in consequence of their determination, a line of intrenchments was drawn around that city. It is uncertain whether any incentive other than mere caprice influenced the Moslem commanders in their decision. Tarifa was a place of comparatively small strategic value. So long as the more important fortresses of Gibraltar and Algeziras remained in the hands of the Moslems, affording ready communication with the shores of Africa, no material advantage could result from its possession. Its harbor was neither extraordinarily safe nor commodious. While the country in its vicinity was rich and fertile, its extent was not great enough to justify the expenditure of any large amount of blood and treasure for its subjection. And finally, the formidable character of the defences of Tarifa, which had, upon more than one occasion, demonstrated that a garrison insignificant in numbers could readily maintain its position against an immense army, should have convinced the Moorish princes of the difficulties to be encountered in its reduction, in addition to the probabilities of ultimate disaster. The siege of the city, once decided upon, was pushed with the utmost energy. Quantities of munitions of war, provisions, the ponderous engines used in military operations, and a few pieces of rude artillery were transported from Ceuta. The Castilian galleys which endeavored to intercept these supplies were wrecked by a tempest, and the sailors were killed by the enemy or captured and compelled to renounce their religion. The apathy of the Christians, partly the result of constitutional indifference, but largely due to royal oppression, seemed about to abandon their country to ruin. Alfonso XI., reduced to despair, convoked an assembly of the grand masters of the military orders, the most eminent prelates, and such of the principal nobles as he had not degraded, exiled, or put to death. After a pathetic appeal to their patriotism, he deposited upon a table his sword and crown, and, leaving with them these insignia of royal dignity as mute representatives of his honor and distress, he retired from the room. In the deliberations which followed, it was resolved to at once attempt the relief of Tarifa, an undertaking which, if successful, would avert a national misfortune. Every effort was exerted to assemble an army. The nobles summoned their retainers and vassals. The clergy proclaimed a crusade, raised the holy banner blessed by the Pope, and inflamed the religious zeal of their audiences by all the artifices of bigotry and all the powers of eloquence of which they were masters. Appeals were made to the Kings of Aragon and Portugal. A fleet of galleys was obtained from the Republic of Genoa, a proceeding which utterly exhausted the already bankrupt treasury of the kingdom, while the well-known duplicity of these mercenaries caused no little apprehension lest their power might yet be turned against their allies through the machinations of a rich and unscrupulous adversary.
After an investment of several weeks, after numerous assaults and many stratagems, all of which were repulsed or foiled, the undaunted garrison of Tarifa still maintained unimpaired the honor and reputation of the Castilian arms. To this handful of heroic soldiers the prospect was indeed discouraging. From the battlements of the castle, as far as the eye could reach, could be descried the countless tents of the besieging army. Amidst the coarse brown shelters of camel’s hair, the home of the migratory Arab, appeared the more pretentious quarters of the various division commanders, indicated by pennons of gaudy colors and by patrols of heavily armed sentinels. On a slight eminence, in the centre of the vast encampment, stood side by side the royal pavilions of the Sultan, Abul-Hassan, and Yusuf, Emir of Granada. Embellished with every adornment procurable by the boundless resources of wealth and power, they were conspicuous from afar. Their material was blue and crimson silk, profusely and elaborately embroidered. Globes of silver surmounted the stakes which sustained their folds. Before the tent of the Sultan of Fez waved the great standard of the Holy War,—of green silk inscribed with passages from the Koran, and with the name of Allah repeated hundreds of times in characters of gold. With armor and weapons glittering with jewels, a numerous guard watched over the safety of their sovereigns,—fierce warriors of the Zenetah, and of the Beni-Saraj, those “Sons of the Saddler,” destined in after-years to play a prominent part in the history of Granada, and whose valor, amidst the sinking fortunes of the Moslem empire, sustained in many sanguinary battles the reputation of their ancestry and the terror of their name. Outside the harbor was ranged the hostile fleet, covering the sea with its snowy sails; its gay ensigns emblazoned with the devices of the commanders or with the mottoes of the Koran assumed as their peculiar insignia by the princes of the House of Fez.