The morning sun rose upon a piteous scene before the walls of Baza.
The Christian outposts, harassed throughout the night, were pale and haggard, while the multitudes of slain which lay before their palisadoes showed the fierce attacks they had sustained and the bravery of their defence.
Beyond them lay the groves and gardens of Baza, once favorite resorts for recreation and delight, now a scene of horror and desolation. The towers and pavilions were smoking ruins; the canals and water-courses were discolored with blood and choked with the bodies of the slain. Here and there the ground, deep dinted with the tramp of man and steed and plashed and slippery with gore, showed where had been some fierce and mortal conflict, while the bodies of Moors and Christians, ghastly in death, lay half concealed among the matted and trampled shrubs and flowers and herbage.
Amidst these sanguinary scenes rose the Christian tents, hastily pitched among the gardens in the preceding evening. The experience of the night, however, and the forlorn aspect of everything in the morning convinced King Ferdinand of the perils and hardships to which his camp must be exposed in its present situation, and after a consultation with his principal cavaliers he resolved to abandon the orchards.
It was a dangerous movement, to extricate his army from so entangled a situation in the face of so alert and daring an enemy. A bold front was therefore kept up toward the city; additional troops were ordered to the advanced posts, and works begun as if for a settled encampment.
Not a tent was struck in the gardens, but in the mean time the most active and unremitting exertions were made to remove all the baggage and furniture of the camp back to the original station.
All day the Moors beheld a formidable show of war maintained in front of the gardens, while in the rear the tops of the Christian tents and the pennons of the different commanders were seen rising above the groves. Suddenly, toward evening the tents sank and disappeared, the outposts broke up their stations and withdrew, and the whole shadow of an encampment was fast vanishing from their eyes.
The Moors saw too late the subtle manoeuvre of King Ferdinand.
Cid Hiaya again sallied forth with a large force of horse and foot, and pressed furiously upon the Christians. The latter; however, experienced in Moorish attack, retired in close order, sometimes turning upon the enemy and driving them to their barricadoes, and then pursuing their retreat. In this way the army was extricated without much further loss from the perilous labyrinths of the gardens.
The camp was now out of danger, but it was also too distant from the city to do mischief, while the Moors could sally forth and return without hindrance. The king called a council of war to consider in what manner to proceed. The marques of Cadiz was for abandoning the siege for the present, the place being too strong, too well garrisoned and provided, and too extensive for their limited forces either to carry it by assault or invest and reduce it by famine, while in lingering before it the army would be exposed to the usual maladies and sufferings of besieging armies, and when the rainy season came on would be shut up by the swelling of the rivers. He recommended, instead, that the king should throw garrisons of horse and foot into all the towns captured in the neighborhood, and leave them to keep up a predatory war upon Baza, while he should overrun and ravage all the country, so that in the following year Almeria and Guadix, having all their subject towns and territories taken from them, might be starved into submission.
Don Gutierre de Cardenas, senior commander of Leon, on the other hand, maintained that to abandon the siege would be construed by the enemy into a sign of weakness and irresolution. It would give new spirits to the partisans of El Zagal, and would gain to his standard many of the wavering subjects of Boabdil, if it did not encourage the fickle populace of Granada to open rebellion. He advised, therefore, that the siege should be prosecuted with vigor.
The pride of Ferdinand pleaded in favor of the last opinion, for it would be doubly humiliating again to return from a campaign in this part of the Moorish kingdom without effecting a blow. But when he reflected on all that his army had suffered, and on all that it must suffer should the siege continue--especially from the difficulty of obtaining a regular supply of provisions for so numerous a host across a great extent of rugged and mountainous country--he determined to consult the safety of his people and to adopt the advice of the marques of Cadiz.
When the soldiery heard that the king was about to raise the siege in mere consideration of their sufferings, they were filled with generous enthusiasm, and entreated as with one voice that the siege might never be abandoned until the city surrendered.
Perplexed by conflicting counsels, the king despatched messengers to the queen at Jaen, requesting her advice. Posts had been stationed between them in such manner that missives from the camp could reach the queen within ten hours. Isabella sent instantly her reply. She left the policy of raising or continuing the siege to the decision of the king and his captains, but, should they determine to persevere, she pledged herself, with the aid of God, to forward them men, money, provisions and all other supplies until the city should be taken.
The reply of the queen determined Ferdinand to persevere, and when his determination was made known to the army, it was hailed with as much joy as if it had been tidings of a victory.
