The marquis of Cadiz, guided by a trusty adalid, and accompanied by sixty or seventy lances, was fortunate enough to gain a circuitous route less vigilantly guarded by the enemy, whose attention was drawn to the movements of the main body of the Castilian army. By means of this path, the marquis, with his little band, succeeded, after a painful march, in which his good steed sunk under him oppressed with wounds and fatigue, in reaching a valley at some distance from the scene of action, where he determined to wait the coming up of his friends, who he confidently expected would follow on his track. [28]
But the grand master and his associates, missing this track in the darkness of the night, or perhaps preferring another, breasted the sierra in a part where it proved extremely difficult of ascent. At every step the loosened earth gave way under the pressure of the foot, and, the infantry endeavoring to support themselves by clinging to the tails and manes of the horses, the jaded animals, borne down with the weight, rolled headlong with their riders on the ranks below, or were precipitated down the sides of the numerous ravines. The Moors, all the while, avoiding a close encounter, contented themselves with discharging on the heads of their opponents an uninterrupted shower of missiles of every description. [29]
It was not until the following morning, that the Castilians, having surmounted the crest of the eminence, began the descent into the opposite valley, which they had the mortification to observe was commanded on every point by their vigilant adversary, who seemed now in their eyes to possess the powers of ubiquity. As the light broke upon the troops, it revealed the whole extent of their melancholy condition. How different from the magnificent array which, but two days previous, marched forth with such high and confident hopes from the gates of Antequera! their ranks thinned, their bright arms defaced and broken, their banners rent in pieces, or lost,—as had been that of St. James, together with its gallant alferez, Diego Becerra, in the terrible passage of the preceding night,—their countenances aghast with terror, fatigue, and famine. Despair now was in every eye, all subordination was at an end. No one, says Pulgar, heeded any longer the call of the trumpet, or the wave of the banner. Each sought only his own safety, without regard to his comrade. Some threw away their arms; hoping by this means to facilitate their escape, while in fact it only left them more defenceless against the shafts of their enemies. Some, oppressed with fatigue and terror, fell down and died without so much as receiving a wound. The panic was such that, in more than one instance, two or three Moorish soldiers were known to capture thrice their own number of Spaniards. Some, losing their way, strayed back to Malaga and were made prisoners by females of the city, who overtook them in the fields. Others escaped to Alhama or other distant places, after wandering seven or eight days among the mountains, sustaining life on such wild herbs and berries as they could find, and lying close during the day. A greater number succeeded in reaching Antequera, and, among these, most of the leaders of the expedition. The grand master of St. James, the adelantado Henriquez, and Don Alonso de Aguilar effected their escape by scaling so perilous a part of the sierra that their pursuers cared not to follow. The count de Cifuentes was less fortunate. [30] That nobleman's division was said to have suffered more severely than any other. On the morning after the bloody passage of the mountain, he found himself suddenly cut off from his followers, and surrounded by six Moorish cavaliers, against whom he was defending himself with desperate courage, when their leader, Reduan Benegas, struck with the inequality of the combat, broke in, exclaiming, "Hold, this is unworthy of good knights." The assailants sunk back abashed by the rebuke, and left the count to their commander. A close encounter then took place between the two chiefs; but the strength of the Spaniard was no longer equal to his spirit, and, after a brief resistance, he was forced to surrender to his generous enemy. [31]
The marquis of Cadiz had better fortune. After waiting till dawn for the coming up of his friends, he concluded that they had extricated themselves by a different route. He resolved to provide for his own safety and that of his followers, and, being supplied with a fresh horse, accomplished his escape, after traversing the wildest passages of the Axarquia for the distance of four leagues, and got into Antequera with but little interruption from the enemy. But, although he secured his personal safety, the misfortunes of the day fell heavily on his house; for two of his brothers were cut down by his side, and a third brother, with a nephew, fell into the hands of the enemy. [32]
The amount of slain in the two days' actions is admitted by the Spanish writers to have exceeded eight hundred, with double that number of prisoners. The Moorish force is said to have been small, and its loss comparatively trifling. The numerical estimates of the Spanish historians, as usual, appear extremely loose; and the narrative of their enemies is too meagre in this portion of their annals to allow any opportunity of verification. There is no reason, however, to believe them in any degree exaggerated.
The best blood of Andalusia was shed on this occasion. Among the slain, Bernaldez reckons two hundred and fifty, and Pulgar four hundred persons of quality, with thirty commanders of the military fraternity of St. James. There was scarcely a family in the south, but had to mourn the loss of some one of its members by death or captivity; and the distress was not a little aggravated by the uncertainty which hung over the fate of the absent, as to whether they had fallen in the field, or were still wandering in the wilderness, or were pining away existence in the dungeons of Malaga and Granada. [33]
Some imputed the failure of the expedition to treachery in the adalides, some to want of concert among the commanders. The worthy Curate of Los Palacios concludes his narrative of the disaster in the following manner. "The number of the Moors was small, who inflicted this grievous defeat on the Christians. It was, indeed, clearly miraculous, and we may discern in it the special interposition of Providence, justly offended with the greater part of those that engaged in the expedition; who, instead of confessing, partaking the sacrament, and making their testaments, as becomes good Christians, and men that are to bear arms in defence of the Holy Catholic faith, acknowledged that they did not bring with them suitable dispositions, but, with little regard to God's service, were influenced by covetousness and love of ungodly gain." [34]
FOOTNOTES
[1] Estrada, Poblacion de España, tom. ii. pp. 242, 243.—Zurita, Anales, tom. iv. fol. 317.—Cardonne, Hist. d'Afrique et d'Espagne, tom. iii. p. 261.
[2] Bernaldez, Reyes Católicos, MS., cap. 58.—Mariana, Hist. de España, tom. ii, pp. 249, 250.—Cardonne, Hist. d'Afrique et d'Espagne, tom. iii. pp. 259, 260.