, followed by the army.
They directed their assaults upon the encampments of the master of
Santiago and the master of Alcantara, and came upon them so suddenly
that they killed and wounded several of the guards. Ibrahim Zenete
made his way into one of the tents, where he beheld several Christian
striplings just starting from their slumber. The heart of the Moor was
suddenly touched with pity for their youth, or perhaps he scorned the
weakness of the foe.

He smote them with the flat instead of the edge of the sword. "Away,
imps!" cried he, "away to your mothers!" The fanatic dervise reproached
him with his clemency. "I did not kill them," replied Zenete, "because I
saw no beards!"*

* Cura de los Palacios, c. 84.

The alarm was given in the camp, and the Christians rushed from all
quarters to defend the gates of the bulwarks. Don Pedro Puerto
Carrero, senior of Moguer, and his brother, Don Alonzo Pacheco, planted
themselves with their followers in the gateway of the encampment of the
master of Santiago, and bore the whole brunt of battle until they were
reinforced. The gate of the encampment of the master of Calatrava was in
like manner defended by Lorenzo Saurez de Mendoza. Hamet was furious at
being thus checked where he had expected a miraculous victory. He led
his troops repeatedly to the attack, hoping to force the gates before
succor should arrive: they fought with vehement ardor, but were as often
repulsed, and every time they returned to the assault they found their
enemies doubled in number. The Christians opened a cross-fire of all
kinds of missiles from their bulwarks; the Moors could effect but
little damage upon a foe thus protected behind their works, while they
themselves were exposed from head to foot. The Christians singled out
the most conspicuous cavaliers, the greater part of whom were either
slain or wounded. Still, the Moors, infatuated by the predictions of
the prophet, fought desperately and devotedly, and they were furious to
revenge the slaughter of their leaders. They rushed upon certain death,
endeavoring madly to scale the bulwarks or force the gates, and fell
amidst showers of darts and lances, filling the ditches with their
mangled bodies.

Hamet el Zegri raged along the front of the bulwarks seeking an opening
for attack. He gnashed his teeth with fury as he saw so many of his
chosen warriors slain around him. He seemed to have a charmed life,
for, though constantly in the h