ttle taste for fighting under a
father of the Church, "while the Great Captain was left to stay at home
and count his beads like a hermit." The king threw cold water on the
enterprise. But the spirit and enthusiasm of the old monk triumphed over
them all, and on the 16th of May the fleet weighed anchor, reaching the
port of Mazalquivir on the following day. Oran, the goal of the
expedition, lay about a league away.

As soon as the army was landed and drawn up in line, Ximenes mounted his
mule and rode along its front, dressed in his priestly robes, but with a
sword by his side. A group of friars followed, also with monastic garbs
and weapons of war. The cardinal, ascending a rising ground, made an
animated address to the soldiers, rousing their indignation by speaking of
the devastation of the coast of Spain by the Moslems, and awakening their
cupidity by dwelling on the golden spoil to be found in the rich city of
Oran. He concluded by saying that he had come to peril his own life in the
service of the cross and lead them in person to battle.

The officers now crowded around the warlike old monk and earnestly begged
him not to expose his sacred person to the hazards of the fight, saying
that his presence would do more harm than good, as the men might be
distracted from the work before them by attending to his personal safety.
This last argument moved the warlike cardinal, who, with much reluctance,
consented to keep in the rear and leave the command of the army to its
military leader, Count Pedro Navarro.

The day was now far advanced. Beacon-fires on the hill-tops showed that
the country was in alarm. Dark groups of Moorish soldiers could be seen on
the summit of the ridge that lay between Oran and Mazalquivir, and which
it would be necessary to take before the city could be reached. The men
were weary with the labors of landing, and needed rest and refreshment,
and Navarro deemed it unsafe to attempt anything more that day; but the
energetic prelate bade him "to go forward in God's name," and orders to
advance were at once given.

Silently the Spanish troops began to ascend the steep sides of the
acclivity. Fortunately for them, a dense mist had arisen, which rolled
down the skirts of the hills and filled the valley through which they
moved. As soon as they left its cover and were revealed to the Moors a
shower of balls and arrows greeted them, followed by a desperate charge
down the hill. But the Spanish infantry