Leila or, the Siege of Granada, Complete

by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton

  CHAPTER I. THE GREAT BATTLE.

  The day slowly dawned upon that awful night; and the Moors, still uponthe battlements of Granada, beheld the whole army of Ferdinand on itsmarch towards their wails. At a distance lay the wrecks of the blackenedand smouldering camp; while before them, gaudy and glittering pennonswaving, and trumpets sounding, came the exultant legions of the foe.The Moors could scarcely believe their senses. Fondly anticipatingthe retreat of the Christians, after so signal a disaster, the gayand dazzling spectacle of their march to the assault filled them withconsternation and alarm.

  While yet wondering and inactive, the trumpet of Boabdil was heardbehind; and they beheld the Moorish king, at the head of his guards,emerging down the avenues that led to the gate. The sight restored andexhilarated the gazers; and, when Boabdil halted in the space beforethe portals, the shout of twenty thousand warriors rose ominously to theears of the advancing Christians.

  "Men of Granada!" said Boabdil, as soon as the deep and breathlesssilence had succeeded to that martial acclamation,--"the advance of theenemy is to their destruction! In the fire of last night the hand ofAllah wrote their doom. Let us forth, each and all! We will leave ourhomes unguarded--our hearts shall be their wall! True, that our numbersare thinned by famine and by slaughter, but enough of us are yet leftfor the redemption of Granada. Nor are the dead departed from us: thedead fight with us--their souls animate our own. He who has lost abrother, becomes twice a man. On this battle we will set all. Liberty orchains! empire or exile! victory or death! Forward!"

  He spoke, and gave the rein to his barb. It bounded forward, and clearedthe gloomy arch of the portals, and Boabdil el Chico was the first Moorwho issued from Granada, to that last and eventful field. Out, then,poured, as a river that rushes from caverns into day, the burnished andserried files of the Moorish cavalry. Muza came the last, closing thearray. Upon his dark and stern countenance there spoke not the ardententhusiasm of the sanguine king. It was locked and rigid; and theanxieties of the last dismal weeks had thinned his cheeks, and plougheddeep lines around the firm lips and iron jaw which bespoke the obstinateand unconquerable resolution of his character.

  As Muza now spurred forward, and, riding along the wheeling ranks,marshalled them in order, arose the acclamation of female voices; andthe warriors, who looked back at the sound, saw that their women--theirwives and daughters, their mothers and their beloved (released fromtheir seclusion, by a policy which bespoke the desperation ofthe cause)--were gazing at them, with outstretched arms, from thebattlements and towers. The Moors knew that they were now to fight fortheir hearths and altars in the presence of those who, if they failed,became slaves and harlots; and each Moslem felt his heart harden likethe steel of his own sabre.

  While the cavalry formed themselves into regular squadrons, and thetramp of the foemen came more near and near, the Moorish infantry,in miscellaneous, eager, and undisciplined bands, poured out, until,spreading wide and deep below the walls, Boabdil's charger was seen,rapidly careering amongst them, as, in short but distinct directions,or fiery adjurations, he sought at once to regulate their movements, andconfirm their hot but capricious valour.

  Meanwhile the Christians had abruptly halted; and the politic Ferdinandresolved not to incur the full brunt of a whole population, in the firstflush of their enthusiasm and despair. He summoned to his side Hernandodel Pulgar, and bade him, with a troop of the most adventurous andpractised horsemen, advance towards the Moorish cavalry, and endeavourto draw the fiery valour of Muza away from the main army. Then,splitting up his force into several sections, he dismissed each todifferent stations; some to storm the adjacent towers, others to firethe surrounding gardens and orchards; so that the action might consistrather of many battles than of one, and the Moors might lose theconcentration and union, which made, at present, their most formidablestrength.

  Thus, while the Mussulmans were waiting in order for the attack, theysuddenly beheld the main body of the Christians dispersing, and, whileyet in surprise and perplexed, they saw the fires breaking out fromtheir delicious gardens, to the right and left of the walls, and hearthe boom of the Christian artillery against the scattered bulwarks thatguarded the approaches of that city.

  At that moment a cloud of dust rolled rapidly towards the post occupiedin the van by Muza, and the shock of the Christian knights, in theirmighty mail, broke upon the centre of the prince's squadron.

  Higher, by several inches, than the plumage of his companions, wavedthe crest of the gigantic del Pulgar; and, as Moor after Moor wentdown before his headlong lance, his voice, sounding deep and sepulchralthrough his visor, shouted out--"Death to the infidel!"

  The rapid and dexterous horsemen of Granada were not, however,discomfited by this fierce assault: opening their ranks withextraordinary celerity, they suffered the charge to pass comparativelyharmless through their centre, and then, closing in one long andbristling line, cut off the knights from retreat. The Christians wheeledround, and charged again upon their foe.

  "Where art thou, O Moslem dog! that wouldst play the lion'?--Where artthou, Muza Ben Abil Gazan'?"

  "Before thee, Christian!" cried a stern and clear voice; and fromamongst the helmets of his people, gleamed the dazzling turban of theMoor.

  Hernando checked his steed, gazed a moment at his foe, turned back,for greater impetus to his charge, and, in a moment more, the bravestwarriors of the two armies met, lance to lance.

  The round shield of Muza received the Christian's weapon; his own spearshivered, harmless, upon the breast of the giant. He drew his sword,whirled it rapidly over his head, and, for some minutes, the eyes ofthe bystanders could scarcely mark the marvellous rapidity with whichstrokes were given and parried by those redoubted swordsmen.

  At length, Hernando, anxious to bring to bear his superior strength,spurred close to Muza; and, leaving his sword pendant by a thong to hiswrist, seized the shield of Muza in his formidable grasp, and pluckedit away, with a force that the Moor vainly endeavoured to resist:Muza, therefore, suddenly released his bold; and, ere the Spaniardhad recovered his balance (which was lost by the success of his ownstrength, put forth to the utmost), he dashed upon him the hoofs of hisblack charger, and with a short but heavy mace, which he caught up fromthe saddlebow, dealt Hernando so thundering a blow upon the helmet, thatthe giant fell to the ground, stunned and senseless.

  To dismount, to repossess himself of his shield, to resume his sabre, toput one knee to the breast of his fallen foe, was the work of a moment;and then had Don Hernando del Pulgar been sped, without priest orsurgeon, but that, alarmed by the peril of their most valiant comrade,twenty knights spurred at once to the rescue, and the points of twentylances kept the Lion of Granada from his prey. Thither, with similarspeed, rushed the Moorish champions; and the fight became close anddeadly round the body of the still unconscious Christian. Not an instantof leisure to unlace the helmet of Hernando, by removing which, alone,the Moorish blade could find a mortal place, was permitted to Muza; and,what with the spears and trampling hoofs around him, the situation ofthe Paynim was more dangerous than that of the Christian. Meanwhile,Hernando recovered his dizzy senses; and, made aware of his state,watched his occasion, and suddenly shook off the knee of the Moor.With another effort he was on his feet and the two champions stoodconfronting each other, neither very eager to renew the combat. Buton foot, Muza, daring and rash as he was, could not but recognise hisdisadvantage against the enormous strength and impenetrable armour ofthe Christian. He drew back, whistled to his barb, that, piercing theranks of the horsemen, was by his side on the instant, remounted,and was in the midst of the foe, almost ere the slower Spaniard wasconscious of his disappearance.

  But Hernando was not delivered from his enemy. Clearing a space aroundhim, as three knights, mortally wounded, fell beneath his sabre, Muzanow drew from behind his shoulder his short Arabian bow, and shaft aftershaft came rattling upon the mail of the dismounted Christian withso marvellous a celerity, that, encumbered as he was with his heav
yaccoutrements, he was unable either to escape from the spot, or ward offthat arrowy rain; and felt that nothing but chance, or Our Lady, couldprevent the death which one such arrow would occasion, if it should findthe opening of the visor, or the joints of the hauberk.

  "Mother of Mercy," groaned the knight, perplexed and enraged, "let notthy servant be shot down like a hart, by this cowardly warfare; but, ifI must fall, be it with mine enemy, grappling hand to hand."

  While yet muttering this short invocation, the war-cry of Spain washeard hard by, and the gallant company of Villena was seen scouringacross the plain to the succour of their comrades. The deadly attentionof Muza was distracted from individual foes, however eminent; he wheeledround, re-collected his men, and, in a serried charge, met the new enemyin midway.

  While the contest thus fared in that part of the field, the scheme ofFerdinand had succeeded so far as to break up the battle in detachedsections. Far and near, plain, grove, garden, tower, presented each thescene of obstinate and determined conflict. Boabdil, at the head ofhis chosen guard, the flower of the haughtier tribe of nobles who werejealous of the fame and blood of the tribe of Muza, and followed alsoby his gigantic Ethiopians, exposed his person to every peril, with thedesperate valour of a man who feels his own stake is greatest in thefield. As he most distrusted the infantry, so amongst the infantry hechiefly bestowed his presence; and wherever he appeared, he sufficed,for the moment, to turn the changes of the engagement. At length, atmid-day Ponce de Leon led against the largest detachment of the Moorishfoot a strong and numerous battalion of the best-disciplined and veteransoldiery of Spain. He had succeeded in winning a fortress, from whichhis artillery could play with effect; and the troops he led werecomposed, partly of men flushed with recent triumph, and partly ofa fresh reserve, now first brought into the field. A comely and abreathless spectacle it was to behold this Christian squadron emergingfrom a blazing copse, which they fired on their march; the red lightgleaming on their complete armour, as, in steady and solemn order, theyswept on to the swaying and clamorous ranks of the Moorish infantry.Boabdil learned the danger from his scouts; and hastily quitting atower from which he had for a while repulsed a hostile legion, he threwhimself into the midst of the battalions menaced by the skilful Poncede Leon. Almost at the same moment, the wild and ominous apparition ofAlmamen, long absent from the eyes of the Moors, appeared in the samequarter, so suddenly and unexpectedly, that none knew whence he hademerged; the sacred standard in his left hand--his sabre, bared anddripping gore, in his right--his face exposed, and its powerful featuresworking with an excitement that seemed inspired; his abrupt presencebreathed a new soul into the Moors.

  "They come! they come!" he shrieked aloud. "The God of the East hathdelivered the Goth into your hands!" From rank to rank--from line toline--sped the santon; and, as the mystic banner gleamed beforethe soldiery, each closed his eyes and muttered an "amen" to hisadjurations. And now, to the cry of "Spain and St. Iago," came tramplingdown the relentless charge of the Christian war. At the same instant,from the fortress lately taken by Ponce de Leon, the artillery openedupon the Moors, and did deadly havoc. The Moslems wavered a moment whenbefore them gleamed the white banner of Almamen; and they beheld himrushing, alone and on foot, amidst the foe. Taught to believe the waritself depended on the preservation of the enchanted banner, the Paynimscould not see it thus rashly adventured without anxiety and shame: theyrallied, advanced firmly, and Boabdil himself, with waving cimiter andfierce exclamations, dashed impetuously at the head of his guards andEthiopians into the affray. The battle became obstinate and bloody.Thrice the white banner disappeared amidst the closing ranks; andthrice, like a moon from the clouds, it shone forth again--the light andguide of the Pagan power.

  The day ripened; and the hills already cast lengthening shadows over theblazing groves and the still Darro, whose waters, in every creek wherethe tide was arrested, ran red with blood, when Ferdinand, collectinghis whole reserve, descended from the eminence on which hitherto he hadposted himself. With him moved three thousand foot and a thousand horse,fresh in their vigour, and panting for a share in that glorious day.The king himself, who, though constitutionally fearless, from motivesof policy rarely perilled his person, save on imminent occasions, wasresolved not to be outdone by Boabdil; and armed cap-a-pied in mail, sowrought with gold that it seemed nearly all of that costly metal, withhis snow-white plumage waving above a small diadem that surmounted hislofty helm, he seemed a fit leader to that armament of heroes. Behindhim flaunted the great gonfanon of Spain, and trump and cymbal heraldedhis approach. The Count de Tendilla rode by his side.

  "Senor," said Ferdinand, "the infidels fight hard; but they are in thesnare--we are about to close the nets upon them. But what cavalcade isthis?"

  The group that thus drew the king's attention consisted of six squires,bearing, on a martial litter, composed of shields, the stalwart form ofHernando del Pulgar.

  "Ah, the dogs!" cried the king, as he recognised the pale features ofthe darling of the army,--"have they murdered the bravest knight thatever fought for Christendom?"

  "Not that, your majesty," quoth he of the Exploits, faintly, "but I amsorely stricken."

  "It must have been more than man who struck thee down," said the king.

  "It was the mace of Muza Ben Abil Gazan, an please you, sire," said oneof the squires; "but it came on the good knight unawares, and long afterhis own arm had seemingly driven away the Pagan."

  "We will avenge thee well," said the king, setting his teeth: "let ourown leeches tend thy wounds. Forward, sir knights! St. Iago and Spain!"

  The battle had now gathered to a vortex; Muza and his cavalry hadjoined Boabdil and the Moorish foot. On the other hand, Villena hadbeen reinforced by detachments that in almost every other quarter of thefield had routed the foe. The Moors had been driven back, though inchby inch; they were now in the broad space before the very walls of thecity, which were still crowded by the pale and anxious faces of the agedand the women: and, at every pause in the artillery, the voices thatspoke of HOME were borne by that lurid air to the ears of the infidels.The shout that rang through the Christian force as Ferdinand now joinedit struck like a death-knell upon the last hope of Boabdil. But theblood of his fierce ancestry burned in his veins, and the cheeringvoice of Almamen, whom nothing daunted, inspired him with a kind ofsuperstitious frenzy.

  "King against king--so be it! Let Allah decide between us!" cried theMoorish monarch. "Bind up this wound 'tis well! A steed for the santon!Now, my prophet and my friend, mount by the side of thy king--let us, atleast, fall together. Lelilies! Lelilies!"

  Throughout the brave Christian ranks went a thrill of reluctantadmiration, as they beheld the Paynim king, conspicuous by his fairbeard and the jewels of his harness, lead the scanty guard yet left tohim once more into the thickest of their lines. Simultaneously Muza andhis Zegris made their fiery charge; and the Moorish infantry, excited bythe example of their leaders, followed with unslackened and doggedzeal. The Christians gave way--they were beaten back: Ferdinand spurredforward; and, ere either party were well aware of it, both kings met inthe same melee: all order and discipline, for the moment, lost, generaland monarch were, as common soldiers, fighting hand to hand. It was thenthat Ferdinand, after bearing down before his lance Naim Reduon, secondonly to Muza in the songs of Granada, beheld opposed to him a strangeform, that seemed to that royal Christian rather fiend than man: hisraven hair and beard, clotted with blood, hung like snakes about acountenance whose features, naturally formed to give expression to thedarkest passions, were distorted with the madness of despairing rage.Wounded in many places, the blood dabbled his mail; while, overhis head, he waved the banner wrought with mystic characters, whichFerdinand had already been taught to believe the workmanship of demons.

  "Now, perjured king of the Nazarenes!" shouted this formidable champion,"we meet at last!--no longer host and guest, monarch and dervise, butman to man! I am Almamen! Die!"

  He spoke; and his sword descende
d so fiercely on that anointed head thatFerdinand bent to his saddle-bow. But the king quickly recovered hisseat, and gallantly met the encounter; it was one that might have taskedto the utmost the prowess of his bravest knight. Passions which, intheir number, their nature, and their excess, animated no other championon either side, gave to the arm of Almamen the Israelite a preternaturalstrength; his blows fell like rain upon the harness of the king; andthe fiery eyes, the gleaming banner of the mysterious sorcerer, whohad eluded the tortures of his Inquisition,--who had walked unscathedthrough the midst of his army,--whose single hand had consumed theencampment of a host, filled the stout heart of a king with a beliefthat he encountered no earthly foe. Fortunately, perhaps, for Ferdinandand Spain, the contest did not last long. Twenty horsemen spurred intothe melee to the rescue of the plumed diadem: Tendilla arrived thefirst; with a stroke of his two-handed sword, the white banner was cleftfrom its staff, and fell to the earth. At that sight the Moors roundbroke forth in a wild and despairing cry: that cry spread from rank torank, from horse to foot; the Moorish infantry, sorely pressed on allsides, no sooner learned the disaster than they turned to fly: the routwas as fatal as it was sudden. The Christian reserve, just brought intothe field, poured down upon them with a simultaneous charge. Boabdil,too much engaged to be the first to learn the downfall of the sacredinsignia, suddenly saw himself almost alone, with his diminishedEthiopians and a handful of his cavaliers.

  "Yield thee, Boabdil el Chico!" cried Tendilla, from his rear, "or thoucanst not be saved."

  "By the Prophet, never!" exclaimed the king: and he dashed his barbagainst the wall of spears behind him; and with but a score or so of hisguard, cut his way through the ranks that were not unwilling, perhaps,to spare so brave a foe. As he cleared the Spanish battalions, theunfortunate monarch checked his horse for a moment and gazed along theplain: he beheld his army flying in all directions, save in that singlespot where yet glittered the turban of Muza Ben Abil Gazan. As hegazed, he heard the panting nostrils of the chargers behind, and saw thelevelled spears of a company despatched to take him, alive or dead, bythe command of Ferdinand. He laid the reins upon his horse's neck andgalloped into the city--three lances quivered against the portals as hedisappeared through the shadows of the arch. But while Muza remained,all was not yet lost: he perceived the flight of the infantry and theking, and with his followers galloped across the plain: he came in timeto encounter and slay, to a man, the pursuers of Boabdil; he then threwhimself before the flying Moors:

  "Do ye fly in the sight of your wives and daughters? Would ye not ratherthey beheld ye die?"

  A thousand voices answered him. "The banner is in the hands of theinfidel--all is lost!" They swept by him, and stopped not till theygained the gates.

  But still a small and devoted remnant of the Moorish cavaliers remainedto shed a last glory over defeat itself. With Muza, their soul andcentre, they fought every atom of ground: it was, as the chroniclerexpresses it, as if they grasped the soil with their arms. Twice theycharged into the midst of the foe: the slaughter they made doubled theirown number; but, gathering on and closing in, squadron upon squadron,came the whole Christian army--they were encompassed, wearied out,beaten back, as by an ocean. Like wild beasts, driven, at length, totheir lair, they retreated with their faces to the foe; and when Muzacame, the last--his cimiter shivered to the hilt,--he had scarcelybreath to command the gates to be closed and the portcullis lowered, erehe fell from his charger in a sudden and deadly swoon, caused less byhis exhaustion than his agony and shame. So ended the last battle foughtfor the Monarchy of Granada!