Chapter Fourteen
Zaragoza
The Roman Emperor Caesar Augusta built and named Zaragoza, known to its Moorish inhabitants as Sarakusta, in 25 AD. It was built on a plain, protected on two sides by the river Ebro. The Ebro is the longest, wildest and deepest river in Spain. Zaragoza’s position and massive fortifications made it the most important northern city of the Moorish empire. The Moors had further enhanced the defences of the city by building a citadel within its walls called the Aljaferia, which was also the governor’s palace. The fertility of the plain provided an endless supply of food and the river, fresh water and fish. The river ensured that it could not be taken or cut off easily and provided a link all the way to the Mediterranean. Zaragoza was a Moorish centre of learning, culture and science. It had a governor who was civilised and cultured. He was also as cunning as a fox. It had a great medical school under the direction of a Jew, an immense library and an effective and well-disciplined garrison. It was not a city that could be taken easily, as its history would later prove.
On the great north road, outside the city, Inaki waited with his men. They had taken up a position in the hills overlooking the great plain and could see the city clearly in the distance. They had not been there long, when from the city gate a troop of cavalry appeared. As they came towards them, they estimated their number to be at least 300 strong. About halfway between Inaki’s position and the city, the main body of troops stopped and about twenty riders came forward. At their head rode an officer on a black horse.
“Well, do we stay or run?” Aguirre asked as they watched the cavalry approach along the road towards them.
“We remain hidden and observe,” Inaki said
As the small detachment of mounted troops approached, Inaki recognised their officer as Umar-er Bakr. Riding next to him was a man, the like of which he had not seen before. He was no Moor. His manner, looks and dress were different. Inaki turned to Aguirre and said:
“Wait here. If anything happens to me, kill the boy.” With that he climbed down off the hill and stepped onto the road.
The riders came on and stopped in front of Inaki. Umar-er Bakr looked down at the young Basque from his horse.
“We meet again my friend.”
“I see you got our message, but not its full meaning,” Inaki replied, looking back at the troops in the distance.
“I see that you are far fewer than when I left you. You have the boy?” He dared not say the word Prince.
“He is well,” Inaki said, ignoring the first remark.
“I have come to escort you into the city.”
“That is a pleasure we will forgo,” Inaki said.
“Then know this,” replied Umar. “Our scouts report Charlemagne two days march to the north. He has entered Spain through the Roncesvalles pass ten days ago and has his camp close to Pamplona. To the south, a hundred Aragonese warriors are on your tail with the Sisters of the Moon. To the east an army of 20,000 mercenaries approached to join Charlemagne. You are trapped between them. We offer you sanctuary.” He had left out the fact that the Caliph of Granada would deal with the mercenaries and that they would never reach Charlemagne. He wanted to frighten Inaki as much as he could.
Inaki stood deep in thought for a moment. No wonder Storm had been acting so strangely over the last few days. The dog had sensed the danger behind them. He looked at Umar and said: “Sanctuary is not required.”
“You do not trust us?”
Inaki thought carefully about his reply. He did not want to offend.
“It is not a matter of trust, but of loyalty. We have to join our comrades and countrymen in peril to the north.”
“Very well. What is your price for the boy?” Umar said.
Inaki smiled. Umar knew that his men could take the boy, but he had guessed that Inaki would have made some provision if he tried force.
“Nothing.”
Umar looked astounded. In an age when the ransom of captives was commonplace, the answer was unbelievable. He repeated what Inaki had said, unable to believe his ears.
“Nothing, are you sure?”
“Yes, you can have the boy.” With that, Inaki turned towards the hill and gave a long whistle. After a few moments the small group of Basques appeared. Aguirre led the boy, seated on a mule, towards the road. The rest of the Basques hung back, bows at the ready.
As they reached the road, Umar urged his horse forward and dismounted. Kneeling on the road, head bowed, he spoke a few words in Arabic to the boy. The boy responded and there followed a short conversation.
When it was over the boy turned to Inaki. “You have saved my life and asked for nothing in return, but you are in great danger. I have instructed the captain to escort you to your people and take care of your wounded.”
Inaki was about to speak but the boy raised his hand and silenced him.
“Furthermore, those that pursue you will pursue you no longer.”
He spoke again in Arabic to Umar. Umar stood, gave some orders to his men and then helped the boy off the mule. Two of the mounted guards turned their horses and galloped furiously towards the main body of troops. A third man dismounted and brought his horse forwards towards the boy. He then knelt on the ground on all fours and the boy stood on his back and mounted the horse. As he took the reins, he looked down and spoke to Inaki.
“It is the custom and duty among my people to repay our debts. What I have done today cannot repay the debt that I owe you. Perhaps sometime in the future our paths will cross again. When they do, by the Lord Allah, I will remember the debt.”
With this he turned the horse and rode away. The Arab escort fell in behind him. Umar remained and smiled at Inaki.
“I don’t think you realise what you have done or the importance of the friend you have made. Call your men.”
Inaki raised an arm and beckoned. The Basques came down onto the road. As they stood and watched, they saw the boy reach the Arab cavalry. It was spilt into three groups: one group made its way back to the city, another group turned south, whilst the rest came down the road towards Inaki and Umar. As they approached, Inaki studied them. He had never been this close to Arab-mounted cavalry before and they were magnificent. They were mounted on fine horses, armed with bows and swords, with their cloaks flowing behind them. On their heads were conical helmets and slung on their saddles they carried small, round shields. They did not look like men to be trifled with. They were all dressed in fine black silk and leather boots. The strange one, who had come with Umar, stood out amongst them and yet was part of them not only by his dress, but by his age. He was a Sephardic Jew.
*
Umar smiled. “I see that you appreciate my men.”
“It’s hard not to.”
“They are the finest cavalry in the land. Fast, manoeuvrable and able to fire their bows at a full gallop from either side of their horses. What is more, it is difficult to defeat a man in battle that believes that if he falls, his place is assured in Heaven. Tell your men to leave the mules and mount behind a rider. Your wounded man will be well cared for by Isaac.” He turned to the Jew and pointed at him. “He is the governor’s personal physician and the head of the medical school. We have no time to waste if we are to avoid Charlemagne’s advanced guard.”
Inaki looked quizzically at Isaac, and Arostegi did not move.
Umar was beginning to lose patience. “Why do you not do as I ask? Can you not see that we have no time to waste? We cannot carry wounded men and travel at the speed we will have to go.”
The Basques stood as if turned to stone. Isaac moved his horse forward.
“With your permission, My Lord, may I address our friends?” Umar nodded. Isaac spoke gently and kindly.
“There is nothing to fear. I promise that I will look after your man well and when he is healed he will be returned to you.”
Inaki studied the man and recognised instantly a fellow healer and mystic. Storm, who was beside Inaki, grow
led.
“What do you think Storm?” Inaki asked the dog. Storm sat down.
Without further discussion, Inaki turned to the men. Arostegi looked distraught.
“Do not fear,” he said to him, “you are in good hands. Storm is never wrong.”
In no time at all the Basques were mounted behind a trooper and on their way home. As they rode, Inaki, who was mounted behind Umar, asked an endless stream of questions. With infinite patience Umar obligingly answered. How many men had Charlemagne? How long had he been in Spain? What would the governor do? How long would it take to reach the Basque country? And so on, and so forth. Umar explained that news of Charlemagne had been brought to them four days ago. The patrols that had been sent out had made contact two days ago and had reported an army estimated at 60,000 men, a third of which were cavalry. Most of the towns and villages in their path had been sacked. With his son back, the governor would resist and according to Umar, no force on earth could take Zaragoza, not even Charlemagne’s. Furthermore, messages had been sent to the Caliph of Cordoba, and a Moorish army would be in the field within a month.
They rode hard and fast all that day until evening. Then as they were moving towards the foothills of the Pyrenees, far in the distance, Inaki and his Moorish escort saw the advance guard of Charlemagne’s army. They were moving slowly down a hill heading southwest towards Zaragoza. A great mass of mounted troops and foot soldiers followed closely behind. They came on like a great rolling wave. They stopped and watched for an hour in awe. It was a sea of men and horses as wave upon wave rose over the hills and tumbled down the hillsides, then disappeared into the distance as far as the eye could see. It reminded Inaki of the great winter storms and the great waves that came cascading onto the beaches. It made him feel homesick and fearful. Inaki turned and looked nervously at his men. They all wore the same look of mixed horror and disbelief. None of the Basques had ever seen such a fighting force before in their lives.
Umar felt the tension in the young man sat behind him.
“Look well, infidel. What you see before you is the greatest fighting force in the known world. They have had many victories and only we, the Moors, have had more, but we have never defeated Charlemagne and he has given us many a bloody defeat in battle.”
“Yes,” said Inaki quietly. And we, the smallest nation on earth are going to take on that ravaging horde? A cold shiver ran down his spine. For the first time he questioned his own sanity and that of his people. But then a savage pride rose in his heart. By what right had they come into his country? They would regret their coming as had the Romans, Celts, Visigoths and Moors before them. The whole of the Basque nation would be waiting for them when they came back from Zaragoza and perhaps Charlemagne would not have so many men as he had now. The thought made him feel better. The fear had gone.
Umar, gave a sharp order, turned his men towards the northwest and pressed on giving the oncoming army a wide berth. Two days later he would leave Inaki safely behind the Basque lines and return to Zaragoza with his men. Umar found the city of Zaragoza in turmoil and the population in fear and close to panic. News of Charlemagne’s imminent arrival had reached the city and those that could had fled, leaving a very frightened and apprehensive city behind them, with a garrison preparing for siege.
Chapter Fifteen
The Siege
On a fine morning in early June, in the year 778, Charlemagne arrived at the gates of Zaragoza. Much to his surprise he found not a city ready to welcome him as their Lord and master, but one whose population were well prepared for the defence of their city. Everywhere he looked, he could see men moving and preparing to defend the walls of the city. Charlemagne sat on this horse in bewilderment. After all, he had a pact with the Moslem governor and indirectly held his son to make sure the pact was honoured. He recovered from his shock quickly, collected his thoughts and issued several orders to his commanders. First, they were to surround the city and probe its strengths and find weaknesses. Second, he required an immediate report on the state of their supplies or lack of them. Third, how quickly could his commanders mount an attack on the walls? Fourth, he ordered the immediate construction of siege engines and towers. Lastly, he wanted to know from his intelligence service, the Benedictine monks, what had gone wrong. With his temper mounting by the second he waited for his commanders to report back.
The first to report back was his quartermaster. With scavenging, he estimated that the army would have enough supplies for perhaps two months. He could not be more exact until he could survey the surrounding countryside, but the land looked plentiful and he was confident of his estimate. Charlemagne ordered that his tent be pitched and retired into it when it was ready. Several hours later, three of his commanders, Du Fouilloux, James Audubon and Duiker, reported to him. They had probed the defences at several points with mock attacks. The walls were well defended and there were no serious weak spots that they could find. If he wanted to take Zaragoza, they were in for a long siege.
That evening as the army settled round the walls of Zaragoza in a gradual strangled hold, Charlemagne called a council of war. He valued his commanders’ opinions. These were men who had served him well through thirty years of warfare. Their views were important and could be trusted.
“My lords and noble gentlemen,” Charlemagne began, “let us review the situation. We were misled into believing that the Moor would honour his pact.” He cast an evil look at the two Benedictines at the end of the long table.
“However, let us not dwell on that. We have to decide whether we stay or go. There are four ways to take a fortified city. The first is by assault with ladders and siege towers. It is the quickest, most dangerous and costly in terms of men. The second way is to breach the walls or the main gate either by mining the walls or with battering rams. That takes time and I fear we do not have time. Third, we could use catapults and fire arrows and set the city on fire. Fire would destroy it, but leaves little in the way of plunder and spoils.”
He paused, “I fear that they have too much water around them for this method to be a success anyway. Lastly, we starve them into submission. This could take a very long time. It could even take several years and I’m not sure that with the river lapping the west and south walls that this could be done at all. Whoever built the city wall’s built them well. They picked the place to build them with an expert military eye. I would like your views.”
For what seemed an age no one spoke.
Then Roland cleared his throat.
“My Lord, it seems a very long way to come for nothing and we have had very little sport with these Iberians and their Moorish masters.
Besides, Guerin will soon be here with 20,000 men, after he has finished in Barcelona.”
“You are right, but if we stay we run the risk that we could lose an army, my dear Roland,” replied Charlemagne. “Now exercise your minds, gentlemen, and give me options and ideas.”
Charlemagne looked around the seated men. On his right were the Frankish commanders. Thal, the captain of his horse and the head of his own personal bodyguard; he didn’t have an original thought in his head, but was highly dependable. Next to him was Elvenden, his commander of the foot soldiers; he was fearless and a veteran of more than a hundred battles. Hard as nails, cunning and one to watch. Then there was Einhard, the Benedictine, a scholar with an immerse intellect; he was not to be trusted since he was the Pope’s man, but useful as intelligence gatherer and spy. What would he say? Charlemagne pondered. He would not speak first for sure. He was far too clever to do that. He would let others speak first and he would listen carefully. Then when he knew which way the wind was blowing he might say something, but this time he would force his hand as a reminder and punishment. He had a lot to answer for. Yes, he would not let him play his own game! Not this time. When the time was ripe, he would hand the monk a sumptuous dish of exquisite malice, which he would force him to devour publicly. Thus he would repay the monk for his humiliation at the gates
of Zaragoza.
Much to his surprise, it was Montpelier, the Italian commander, who spoke first.
“My noble King, if I may by your gracious leave?”
Charlemagne nodded.
“It would seem to me that we have two options. We stay and send for fresh troops and supplies and prepare for a long siege, or we press forward around Zaragoza. We leave it behind us.”
Duiker, a Frank, not known for his manners or great intellect broke out in laughter.
“May we know what you find so amusing, Lord Duiker?” Montpelier said icily.
“Forgive me, My Lord,” said Duiker, still smiling, “but you were not with us at Dresden and will not remember the fortress on the hill. We tried to leave that at our rear and it nearly cost us our arse! This city is ten times larger and has twenty times as many troops within its walls.”
“Duiker is right,” said Roland. “We cannot leave such a stronghold and its forces to our rear. I say take it and burn it to the ground.”
“That would appear to be more difficult than we were led to believe. Is that not so, Einhard?” Charlemagne looked at the Benedictine with an icy stare as he spoke the words.
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