Hart, Mallory Dorn

by Jasmine on the Wind

  "Our weary Christians, unfamiliar with the terrain and its unsuitability to normal warfare, were fallen upon again and again by the Moors, whose light armor allowed them more agility, more adroitness. My heart aches to report, my queen, that our troops were slaughtered by the hundreds."

  Beatrix de Boabdilla stifled a cough. Isabella's lips were pressed and grim.

  "Yet, rejoice, for so many were the acts of great valor performed by our courageous warriors in the midst of such destruction that should I relate only two which I have seen personally it will lift up your heart. Our prized Don Juan de Luna stood over a fatally wounded young knight and alone defended him vigorously from six heathen warriors screaming for the man's head as a trophy, and in spite of his own heavy wounds de Luna held off the devils until he was relieved by the Count of Cabra's soldiers.

  "And again: during the most furious part of the conflict the standard bearer for the Grand Cardinal's troops had his arm carried off by a cannonball. The standard of a prince of our Church was almost falling into the hands of the exulting heathen when out of a cloud of smoke Francisco de Mendoza, Tendilla's natural son, dashed to its rescue, riding through a shower of lances, arrows, and balls. He swooped up the standard and with bloody sword flashing rushed forward with it into the thick of the battle, followed by Tendilla's clamoring soldiery.

  "Thus inch by inch we won those orchards and drove back the Moor inside their gates and so set up our camp at last. I will not burden your heart with the sights that greeted our reddened eyes the following daybreak; suffice it to say our position in the orchards was untenable.

  "But I send you this account, Lady Queen, so you may know the tolls and sufferings that have decimated our divisions and will understand the frustrations of our present position."

  Isabella tapped sharply on her table, interrupting the reading and making Cantado look up. She addressed Toledo. "Don Fadrique, you were attached to our troops at the orchard encampment. Describe to us the situation after the battle."

  The tired knight, who had ridden hard from Baza to Jaen to deliver the dispatch, cleared his throat. "A piteous spectacle, Your Majesty," he began, his face pale with the memory, for it had actually been his first campaign. "Our soldiers sat white and haggard, almost too weary to lift their heads, while outside the camp lay a multitude of dead and dying, heaped up in the terrible piles in which they had fallen during the night. The orchards beyond us..." He faltered, obviously searching for less gory words than the ones crowding his tongue.

  "Do not be afraid for our tender sensibilities," Isabella ordered. "We have seen battlefields before."

  Again clearing his throat nervously, the courier continued. "The orchards, my queen, were a shocking scene of horror and desolation. The towers and pavilions were smoking ruins; the canal and streams were dying with blood and choked with the bodies of the slain. The ground was chopped up men and horses, slimy and slippery with gore; and amidst the trampled shrubs and fruit lay the broken bodies of our men—of our enemy too, certainly—some still locked together in mortal ferocity. A few of the gutted horses still shrieked loudly in agony—"

  "Enough!" Isabella's raised hand halted him. A vein pulsed in her neck. "Enough, my friend. Your eloquence is quite equal to your bravery, Don Fadrique."

  "May we hear the remainder of His Majesty's report, my Queen?" quietly asked Porto-Carrero, his wiry, reddish hair bristling with outrage.

  "Yes. Indeed." Isabella was suddenly weary. "You must know what you are riding toward." She signaled the Marquis to resume reading from the dispatch and leaned back in her chair, eyelids lowered. "If you will, my lord."

  "The following day we resolved to abandon the orchards and extricate our army from so entangled a position, and although pressed and harassed by Cidi Yahye and a fresh legion of Moorish horse and foot, we withdrew in good order and, God be praised, without much further toll of life. The toll was in a disabling loss of supplies and munitions which had to be abandoned.

  "Our camp now being too distant from Baza to inflict any harm on the city even with our new artillery, but close enough for the heathen to sally forth upon us and return through their damned groves without hindrance, we called our council to consider how to proceed. Our good Lord Cadiz advises abandoning the siege, the city being too well garrisoned and provisioned for us to assault it. The Marquis further argues the approach of the southern season of rainfall, which will expose our armies to suffering and disease and cause swelling rivers, which could imprison us for months in this territory. He recommends withdrawal now, followed by a policy of heavy predation upon their supply lines by our garrisons in neighboring territories, so that by next year we will be able to starve them into submission."

  "Next year, next year," the Queen muttered.

  "This reasonable opinion is concurred by the lords Medina-Sidonia, Cabra, Aguilar, Albuquerque, and Villena. But the Grand Master of Santiago, and Tendilla as well, urge the opposite of Cadiz, championing the vigorous prosecution of the siege now, so as not to give new energy to their commander in chief, El Zagal.

  "But we reflected heavily upon our army's great losses and most especially upon the impossibility of obtaining regular supplies in winter across such length and leagues of rugged mountains as separate me from thee. And it was our conclusion that our humiliation and chagrin in ending this campaign without prize was little to endure in exchange for the lives of our subjects. And so we announced our decision to withdraw.

  "Imagine, dear consort, our joy and silent thanks to God, when with one voice our entire and brave Christian soldiery entreated us not to abandon the siege until it was won! However, this show of brave unity furthered our indecision.

  "We are sorely perplexed by the conflicting strong opinions of our commanders. We dispatch to you this account of our predicament confident that, as so often before, your wise counsel might help dispel our uncertainty.

  "Subscribed, with all tender considerations for the well-being and tranquility of our most beloved Queen and Consort, this date 20 August 1489. Ferdinand."

  Isabella's sharp tone was full of pique. "Tranquility? Now that it devolves upon us to decide the fate of our loyal troops? Would that our good husband had thought to bespeak himself to God and allow the Holy Spirit to guide his fortunes rather than the opinion of his Queen, who is only a woman, not a learned general or oracle."

  Doña Beatrix cast down her eyes, struggling to hide a smile. A woman yes... Isabella was certainly that, in her dainty femininity and her adoration of her husband. But the soft blue eyes and white bosom were merely velvet trappings for the iron determination of a general that underlay them, an aggressiveness more astute and demanding than many of Ferdinand's male commanders. Never in her life had Isabella displayed irresolution or fainting courage or timidity. Beatrix, over twenty years a loyal substitute mother to Castile's most beloved ruler, knew her better than she knew herself. And she knew—and hence the hidden smile—that Isabella's present irritation lay not at all with having to help make an important military decision but with the fact that Ferdinand once more had neglected to enclose the separate, loving, and intimate little letter meant for her eyes alone, a habit he had begun early in their marriage.

  "My friends, how shall I take the responsibility of deciding this question? I am bitter with this unforeseen reversal. Our glorious aim to be on the threshold of victory in driving the Moslems from our shores by the turn of the decade may be lost, continue the siege of Baza or not, for the Egyptian Sultan may any day sail to the rescue of Granada. Such a defeat as we have had, both in lives and time, may mean we are not able to..."

  A frown was darkening Talavera's round and saintly face as he interrupted her tirade. "This reversal is by the hand of God, my child. It is his indication that we must redouble our efforts and sacrifice to our utmost to unloose the Moslem grip on our land, and perhaps it is a sign of displeasure that we have not applied ourself fervently enough in advancing His will. God's ways are His mystery. Therefore will you abandon yo
ur faith and show Him anger when His works do not suit your schedule? Pray, daughter, for acceptance, for humility, for wisdom."

  There was a few moments' silence while the pious Isabella sat back with closed eyes and her council exchanged beset glances. At last her eyelids rose, and to their relief a more normal calm shone in her steady blue eyes and she seemed more relaxed.

  "Yes. Our Reverend Father leads us in the righteous path of contemplation. It would be a sin, I think, to leave the ground we have already bought so dearly."

  "A word from you will surely raise up the enthusiasm of our tired King, my queen," suggested Beatrix. "Offer him your personal assurances of success, so that his heart will be strengthened."

  Isabella pursed her lips for a moment, thinking. Then her forehead smoothed.

  "I will offer him more than that, doña, I will offer him our greater aid," she announced. "I will return forthwith a dispatch stating my opinion that we might never be able to resume our operation on so formidable a manpower scale as the force he has now, for such a great legion, once disbanded for the winter, might lose heart and be difficult to recruit again. Don't you agree, my lords? And I shall entreat him, Your Worship," and here she smiled placatingly at Talavera, "to trust in the providence of God in our battle with the followers of false prophets and to consider the sin of abandoning the gains purchased at so terrible a price. And—I will give him our assurances that if his captains and army are true to their duty they can rely upon us to most faithfully furnish the requisite supplies and money to bring them victoriously through a winter siege if such becomes necessary. A winter campaign, my friends, to confound our enemies and consign them to Hell!"

  The color had come high on her cheeks again as she glanced around at the small, startled assembly. "Now send my scribe to me, if you will, Doña Beatrix."

  Jaen, 5 September 1489

  My beloved King and husband:

  ... it will be, as we previously outlined to you, a gigantic undertaking; to transport huge masses of supplies for the first army of winter in our history, sixty thousand men strong, but a task which we and our councillors willingly address.

  Our first care has been the critical transport through the dangerous and broken mountain passes, for which we have hired fourteen thousand mules and horses along with one hundred fifty muleteers to lead them. To protect the trains from constant Moorish attack and plunder we have appointed the lords Fernandez and Monte Mayor to conscript as many hundred of mercenaries and soldiers as necessary to fend off raids.

  The network of local administrators we have supported all these years now bend their backs to a vast task: gathering in grain, grinding and delivering it, purchasing and slaughtering large herds of cattle running in our eastern provinces, collecting other foodstuffs to be prepared, salted, dried, whatever is necessary for their preservation.

  Be joyful, Sire, for we deem it no more than a fortnight before our first caravan reaches you, and thence daily over the route you have indicated. With prayers to the Almighty to keep the coming winter from totally closing the passes....

  Before Baza, 10 September 1489

  Most gracious and beloved of all Queens:

  ... so to surround the enemy we have divided our encampment in two, the northern under the Marquis of Cadiz, and this one under our own command. Ten thousand men are sweating to cut timber from these huge orchards, which they either saw into planks to turn these flimsy siege tents into a more solid city offering

  greater shelter against the hard winter, or stack for fuel. We also build an immense depot into which to deposit the meal and foodstuffs you send us.

  Dearest Lady, we are proud of your swift and efficient response to our need and await with excitement the arrival of your first mule train, this lifeline you throw over the wild and rugged Sierra de Serano. Amidst a cacophony of vigorous hammering, chopping, and sawing, we send you our gratitude...

  Jaen, 2 October 1489

  Most honored husband:

  ... expenditures have grown so enormous we have found our ordinary avenues for financing insufficient, in spite of tremendous donations from noble, prelate, merchant and wealthy bourgeois, and our sale of certain Crown properties. Therefore, since God has seen fit to place such perplexity in the hands of a mere woman, we can only do what is left and we have caused to be collected all the gold and silver plate belonging to the Crown and, together with a casket of our personal jewels, have sent these to Valencia and Barcelona in pledge for ducats enough to see the enterprise through...

  Baza winter camp, 16 October 1489

  Dearest and most beloved of Queens;

  ... the walls and roofs of over one thousand sturdy dwellings and barracks rise above our wooden bulwarks, laid out along streets and squares as great and busy as any city. This must surely be of huge dismay to the prince Cidi Yahye, who surely has watched, pacing his battlements, the disappearance of our flimsy silk pavilions and the erection of these stubborn fortifications.

  Our headquarters, in the center, displaying the proud royal standards of Castile and Aragon flying above, is both large and happily provided with many comforts unusual in the field, gramercy, my lady Queen, to your

  mountain-defying caravans. Already merchants and artificers from all parts of Spain have found us, and we have armorers, cloth merchants, furriers, tailors, and tradesmen of all ilk who see to it that our splendid Spanish cavaliers do not go unclothed and unembellished.

  More somberly, Cidi Yahye's prime regiments daily attack our outposts in heavy, bloody skirmishes terrible of cost in lives. Their spirit and vigor made us fear they were well provisioned enough to survive through the winter until relief could arrive from Granada. But Don Iñigo de Mendoza's Morisco agents, who by some manner of magic gain entry and exit into the city, report Cidi Yahye's military chest has been drained of funds with which to pay his troops, nor are their stores of food so great as we once believed.

  Still, since quick surrender will avert the exhaustion of our own resources and remove the chance that El Zagal and the Grand Sultan Boabdil may cease their bitter wrangling and together mount a rescue force, we have conceived a bold plan to shorten the siege by proving to the citizens of Baza that we intend to stay here until not one soul remains alive in their city.

  Our plan is this: We pray you, Madam, to arrive here at our great camp in the highest pomp and with all your Court, proud retinue and train, so to publicly and visibly take up winter residence with your consort and your army. Not even a heathen of lowest intelligence will miss the ominous and pointed meaning of this confident display...

  Privy: To Her Majesty's eyes alone:

  ... the days are filled with reports and orders and alarms. But the nights stretch lonely and I chafe without my beloved and beautiful lady Queen to warm both my heart and my body, my wife of so many tendernesses to adorn my warrior's breast with the sweetness of her lovely head...

  And so I subscribe myself to you, your loving and lovelorn husband,

  Ferdinand

  So be it, thought Isabella with a satisfied smile. Two birds with one stone. A recalcitrant city and a restless man...

  ***

  Francho stared down at the peaceful villages slumbering not far from each other in the valley and strained to make them out more clearly in the wan light of predawn. Under those roofs the Moslem villagers rested from their labors, quiet and unsuspecting, and all the more vulnerable to attack because a fold of hills blocked them from the view of the fortified city of Gaudix on the other side of the plain. From his higher vantage point in the mouth of a hidden defile through the mountains which the large force halted behind him had negotiated by starlight to avoid the Moorish patrols, Francho thought he could see, were it lighter, the gilded tip of the tallest mosque towers in El Zagal's nest.

  Sitting his charger beside Francho, Antonio de la Cueva, co-conspirator in this unauthorized foray into enemy territory, leaned forward in his saddle with a soft clink of armor joints, peering to see if any military camps protected
the huddles of prosperous farmers and artisans below. "Incredible," de la Cueva muttered, as he scanned the valley. "That half-breed told the truth. They lie like lambs to the knife."

  Behind them came the snort and rattle of horses and arms, carefully muted by riders whose best advantage in this raid was stealth. Francho's blood began to warm in spite of the cold, and his mouth stretched in a wolfish grin. He turned about in his saddle. Excitement pumped through him to view the lengthy, motionless column of armored men sitting their mounts along the rugged, stony path, plumes and pennons stirring in the early morning breeze, flags fluttering but colorless still in the dim light, ready and eager to "bear off spoils from under the very nose of El Zagal and pluck the fiery Arab by the beard," as their Morisco scout had urged. This half-breed, his purse needing filling, had played on the boredom and suppressed energy of the most restless of the young caballeros in the Baza camp, and they, Francho, Antonio, Hernando, and some others, had rounded up without trouble two hundred other hot-blooded warriors and one hundred foot soldiers to beard the Eagle.

  Francho could hardly credit the miracle of the column's silent midnight ride from camp without waking the more prudent leaders or eliciting any comment from the guards. Yet exit his troop did, primed and armed. And here they waited now, a pride of eager warriors following him and his friends to gain glory for the Cross and booty for themselves.

  Francho motioned Hernando del Pulgar forward and when he came up said softly, "Our aldalid is correct. The villages lie unprotected by anything more than the patrols in the main pass."