by night, was driven across the mountains by the marquis of Cadiz, and
compelled to retreat on his capital, completely baffled in his enterprise.
There the tidings of his disaster had preceded him. The fickle populace,
with whom misfortune passes for misconduct, unmindful of his former
successes, now hastened to transfer their allegiance to his rival,
Abdallah, and closed the gates against him; and the unfortunate chief
withdrew to Guadix, which, with Almeria, Baza, and some less considerable
places, still remained faithful. [2]

Ferdinand conducted the siege all the while with his usual vigor, and
spared no exposure of his person to peril or fatigue. On one occasion,
seeing a party of Christians retreating in disorder before a squadron of
the enemy, who had surprised them while fortifying an eminence near the
city, the king, who was at dinner in his tent, rushed out with no other
defensive armor than his cuirass, and, leaping on his horse, charged
briskly into the midst of the enemy, and succeeded in rallying his own
men. In the midst of the rencontre, however, when he had discharged his
lance, he found himself unable to extricate his sword from the scabbard
which hung from the saddle-bow. At this moment he was assaulted by several
Moors, and must have been either slain or taken, but for the timely rescue
of the marquis of Cadiz, and a brave cavalier, Garcilasso de la Vega, who,
galloping up to the spot with their attendants, succeeded after a sharp
skirmish in beating off the enemy. Ferdinand's nobles remonstrated with
him on this wanton exposure of his person, representing that he could
serve them more effectually with his head than his hand. But he answered,
that "he could not stop to calculate chances, when his subjects were
perilling their lives for his sake;" a reply, says Pulgar, which endeared
him to the whole army. [3]

At length, the inhabitants of Velez, seeing the ruin impending from the