The History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella the Catholic — Volume 3

by William Hickling Prescott

A more tragic termination befell a combat à l'outrance between the chevalier Bayard and a Spanish cavalier, named Alonso de Sotomayor, who had accused the former of uncourteous treatment of him, while his prisoner. Bayard denied the charge, and defied the Spaniard to prove it in single fight, on horse or on foot, as he best liked. Sotomayor, aware of his antagonist's uncommon horsemanship, preferred the latter alternative.

At the day and hour appointed, the two knights entered the lists, armed with sword and dagger, and sheathed in complete harness; although, with a degree of temerity unusual in these, combats, they wore their visors up. Both combatants knelt down in silent prayer for a few moments, and then rising and crossing themselves, advanced straight against each other; "the good knight Bayard," says Brantôme, "moving as light of step, as if he were going to lead some fair lady down the dance."

The Spaniard was of a large and powerful frame, and endeavored to crush his enemy by weight of blows, or to close with him and bring him to the ground. The latter, naturally inferior in strength, was rendered still weaker by a fever, from which he had not entirely recovered. He was more light and agile than his adversary, however, and superior dexterity enabled him not only to parry his enemy's strokes, but to deal him occasionally one of his own, while he sorely distressed him by the rapidity of his movements. At length, as the Spaniard was somewhat thrown off his balance by an ill-directed blow, Bayard struck him so sharply on the gorget, that it gave way, and the sword entered his throat. Furious with the agony of the wound, Sotomayor collected all his strength for the last struggle, and, grasping his antagonist in his arms, they both rolled in the dust together. Before either could extricate himself, the quick- eyed Bayard, who had retained his poniard in his left hand during the whole combat, while the Spaniard's had remained in his belt, drove the steel with such convulsive strength under his enemy's eye, that it pierced quite through the brain. After the judges had awarded the honors of the day to Bayard, the minstrels as usual began to pour forth triumphant strains in praise of the victor; but the good knight commanded them to desist, and, having first prostrated himself on his knees in gratitude for his victory, walked slowly out of the lists, expressing a wish that the combat had had a different termination, so that his honor had been saved. [2]

In these jousts and tourneys, described with sufficient prolixity, but in a truly heart-stirring tone, by the chroniclers of the day, we may discern the last gleam of the light of chivalry, which illumined the darkness of the Middle Ages; and, although rough in comparison with the pastimes of more polished times, they called forth such displays of magnificence, courtesy, and knightly honor, as throw something like the grace of civilization over the ferocious features of the age.

While the Spaniards, cooped up within the old town of Barleta, sought to vary the monotony of their existence by these chivalrous exercises, or an occasional foray into the neighboring country, they suffered greatly from the want of military stores, food, clothing, and the most common necessaries of life. It seemed as if their master had abandoned them to their fate on this forlorn outpost, without a struggle in their behalf. [22] How different from the parental care with which Isabella watched over the welfare of her soldiers in the long war of Granada! The queen appears to have taken no part in the management of these wars, which, notwithstanding the number of her own immediate subjects embarked in them, she probably regarded, from the first, as appertaining to Aragon, as exclusively as the conquests in the New World did to Castile. Indeed, whatever degree of interest she may have felt in their success, the declining state of her health at this period would not have allowed her to take any part in the conduct of them.

Gonsalvo was not wanting to himself in this trying emergency, and his noble spirit seemed to rise as all outward and visible resources failed. He cheered his troops with promises of speedy relief, talking confidently of the supplies of grain he expected from Sicily, and the men and money he was to receive from Spain and Venice. He contrived, too, says Giovio, that a report should get abroad, that a ponderous coffer lying in his apartment was filled with gold, which he could draw upon in the last extremity. The old campaigners, indeed, according to the same authority, shook their heads at these and other agreeable fictions of their general, with a very skeptical air. They derived some confirmation, however, from the arrival soon after of a Sicilian bark, laden with corn, and another from Venice with various serviceable stores and wearing apparel, which Gonsalvo bought on his own credit and that of his principal officers, and distributed gratuitously among his destitute soldiers. [23]

At this time he received the unwelcome tidings that a small force which had been sent from Spain to his assistance, under Don Manuel de Benavides, and which had effected a junction with one much larger from Sicily under Hugo de Cardona, was surprised by D'Aubigny near Terranova, and totally defeated. This disaster was followed by the reduction of all Calabria, which the latter general, at the head of his French and Scottish gendarmerie, rode over from one extremity to the other without opposition. [24]

The prospect now grew darker and darker around the little garrison of Barleta. The discomfiture of Benavides excluded hopes of relief in that direction. The gradual occupation of most of the strong places in Apulia by the duke of Nemours cut off all communication with the neighboring country; and a French fleet cruising in the Adriatic rendered the arrival of further stores and reinforcements extremely precarious. Gonsalvo, however, maintained the same unruffled cheerfulness as before, and endeavored to infuse it into the hearts of others. He perfectly understood the character of his countrymen, knew all their resources, and tried to rouse every latent principle of honor, loyalty, pride, and national feeling; and such was the authority which he acquired over their minds, and so deep the affection which he inspired, by the amenity of his manners and the generosity of his disposition, that not a murmur or symptom of insubordination escaped them during the whole of this long and painful siege. But neither the excellence of his troops, nor the resources of his own genius, would have been sufficient to extricate Gonsalvo from the difficulties of his situation, without the most flagrant errors on the part of his opponent. The Spanish general, who understood the character of the French commander perfectly well, lay patiently awaiting his opportunity, like a skilful fencer, ready to make a decisive thrust at the first vulnerable point that should be presented. Such an occasion at length offered itself early in the following year. [25]

The French, no less weary than their adversaries of their long inaction, sallied out from Canosa, where the viceroy had established his headquarters, and, crossing the Ofanto, marched up directly under the walls of Barleta, with the intention of drawing out the garrison from the "old den," as they called it, and deciding the quarrel in a pitched battle. The duke of Nemours, accordingly, having taken up his position, sent a trumpet into the place to defy the Great Captain to the encounter; but the latter returned for answer, that "he was accustomed to choose his own place and time for fighting, and would thank the French general to wait till his men found time to shoe their horses, and burnish up their arms." At length, Nemours, after remaining some days, and finding there was no chance of decoying his wily foe from his defences, broke up his camp and retired, satisfied with the empty honors of his gasconade.

No sooner had he fairly turned his back, than Gonsalvo, whose soldiers had been restrained with difficulty from sallying out on their insolent foe, ordered the whole strength of his cavalry under the command of Diego de Mendoza, flanked by two corps of infantry, to issue forth and pursue the French. Mendoza executed these orders so promptly that he brought up his horse, which were somewhat in advance of the foot, on the rear-guard of the French, before it had got many miles from Barleta. The latter instantly halted to receive the charge of the Spaniards, and, after a lively skirmish of no great duration, Mendoza retreated, followed by the incautious enemy, who, in consequence of their irregular and straggling march, were detached from the main body of their army. In the mean time, the advancing columns of the Spanish infantry, which had now come up with the retreating horse, unexpectedly closing on the enemy's flanks, threw them into some disorder, which became complete when the flying cavalry of the Spaniards, suddenly wheeling round in the rapid style of the Moorish tactics, charged them boldly in front. All was now confusion. Some made resistance, but most sought only to escape; a few effected it, but the greater part of those who did not fall on the field were carried prisoners to Barleta; where Mendoza found the Great Captain with his whole army drawn up under the walls in order of battle, ready to support him in person, if necessary. The whole affair passed so expeditiously, that the viceroy, who, as has been said, conducted his retreat in a most disorderly manner, and in fact had already dispersed several battalions of his infantry to the different towns from which he had drawn them, knew nothing of the rencontre, till his men were securely lodged within the walls of Barleta. [26]