All now was bustle and excitement in Granada, as the new levies came in, and the old ones were receiving a better organization. Indeed, Don John had been closely occupied for some time with introducing reforms among the troops quartered in the city, who, from causes already mentioned, had fallen into a state of the most alarming insubordination. A similar spirit had infected the officers, and to such an extent, that it was deemed necessary to suspend no less than thirty-seven out of forty-five captains from their commands.[207] Such were the difficulties under which the youthful hero was to enter on his first campaign.
Fortunately, in the retainers of the great lords and cavaliers, he had a body of well-appointed and well-disciplined troops, who were actuated by higher motives than the mere love of plunder.[208] His labours, moreover, did much to restore the ancient discipline of the regiments quartered in Granada. But the zeal with which he had devoted himself to the work of reform had impaired his health. This drew forth a kind remonstrance from Philip, who wrote to his brother not thus to overtask his strength, but to remember that he had need of his services; telling him to remind Quixada that he must watch over him more carefully. "And God grant," he concluded, "that your health may be soon re-established." The affectionate solicitude constantly shown for his brother's welfare in the king's letters, was hardly to have been expected in one of so phlegmatic a temperament, and who was usually so little demonstrative in the expression of his feelings.
Before entering on his great expedition, Don John resolved to secure the safety of Granada, in his absence, by the reduction of "the robber's nest," as the Spaniards called it, of Guejar. This was a fortified place, near the confines of the Alpujarras, held by a warlike garrison, that frequently sallied out over the neighbouring country, sometimes carrying their forays into the vega of Granada, and causing a panic in the capital. Don John formed his force into two divisions, one of which he gave to the duke of Sesa, while the other he proposed to lead in person. They were to proceed by different routes, and, meeting before the place, to attack it simultaneously from opposite quarters.
CAPTURE OF GUEJAR.
The duke, marching by the most direct road across the mountains, reached Guejar first, and was not a little surprised to find that the inhabitants, who had received notice of the preparations of the Spaniards, were already evacuating the town; while the garrison was formed in order of battle to cover their retreat. After a short skirmish with the rear-guard, in which some lives were lost on both sides, the victorious Spaniards, without following up their advantage, marched into the town, and took possession of the works abandoned by the enemy.
Great was the surprise of Don John, on arriving some hours later before Guejar, to see the Castilian flag floating from its ramparts; and his indignation was roused as he found that the laurels he had designed for his own brow had been thus unceremoniously snatched from him by another. "With eyes," says the chronicler, "glowing like coals of fire,"[209] he turned on the duke of Sesa, and demanded an explanation of the affair. But he soon found that the blame, if blame there were, was to be laid on one whom he felt that he had not the power to rebuke. This was Luis Quixada, who, in his solicitude for the safety of his ward, had caused the army to be conducted by a circuitous route, that brought it thus late upon the field. But though Don John uttered no word of rebuke, he maintained a moody silence, that plainly showed his vexation; and, as the soldiers remarked, not a morsel of food passed his lips until he had reached Granada.[210]
The constant supervision maintained over him by Quixada, which, as we have seen, was encouraged by the king, was a subject of frequent remark among the troops. It must have afforded no little embarrassment and mortification to Don John, alike ill-suited, as it was, to his age, his aspiring temper, and his station. For his station as commander-in-chief of the army made him responsible, in the eyes of the world, for the measures of the campaign. Yet, in his dependent situation, he had the power neither to decide on the plan of operations, nor to carry it into execution. Not many days were to elapse before the death of his kind-hearted monitor was to relieve him from the jealous oversight that so much chafed his spirit, and to open to him an independent career of glory, such as might satisfy the utmost cravings of his ambition.
One of the authorities of the greatest importance, and most frequently cited in this book, as the reader may have noticed, is Diego Hurtado de Mendoza. He belonged to one of the most illustrious houses in Castile—a house not more prominent for its rank than for the great abilities displayed by its members in the various walks of civil and military life, as well as for their rare intellectual culture. No one of the great families of Spain has furnished so fruitful a theme for the pen of both the chronicler and the bard.
He was the fifth son of the marquis of Mondejar, and was born in the year 1503, at Granada, where his father filled the office held by his ancestors, of captain-general of the province. At an early age he was sent to Salamanca, and passed with credit through the course of studies taught in its venerable university. While there he wrote—for, though printed anonymously, there seems no good reason to distrust the authorship—his famous "Lazarillo de Tormes," the origin of that class of picaresco novels, as they are styled, which constitutes an important branch of Castilian literature, and the best specimen of which, strange to say, was furnished by the hand of a foreigner,—the "Gil Blas" of Le Sage.