The Chronicles of the Black Count - The Battle of Cuenca
Don Alfonso Narzis de Montcada, third Count of Girona, in robe of scarlet silk worn over a steel cuirass, was giving the approaching Castilian army a grim and dedicated look. Th eonce blossoming vicinities of Cuenka now resembled a desert. The villages left by peasants were partly smoking and partly blazing in cheerful flames - the foragers, both Aragonese and Castilian, proved to be a little too enthusiastic. The nearby forest was cut down completely, the wood used to fortify the camp of de Montcada with stakes and walls. At the same time, in front of a hillside, a long trench was dug in which the arqebusiers took their positions. The horsemen placed in reserve and the guns accommodated in a most comfortable way, de Montcada certainly exploited the fact that they managed to arrive in the province before the enemy.
- So throwing the cavalry in, huh? - the Count of Girona grumbled, looking at his second-in-command, Don Alonzo de Palafox, Señor en Estada*. A firm aristocrat mindful of pedigree, Don Alfonso has nevertheless chosen his officers mainly by merit. And this vivacious gentleman, being brother to the Bishop of Puebla and having participated in all last wars of the House of Trastamara, has met the both criteria. In his position as Maestre de Campo (or Master of Camp) he was virtually the chief of staff to the General. Twirling his long bushy whiskers, Palafox raised his eyes and investigated the approaching Castilian riders. - Aye, my lord. All jinetes. Nothing new. And indeed, the troop of approximately two thousand that was advancing rapidly consisted of light horsemen, sitting on a swift long-legged chargers. In bright chainmail, armed with javellins, round shields and swords, they were very useful during the Reconquista - but years and years passed since that time. Some of them were the knights of the Guarde Reale, carrying blazons with a golden mounted three towered castle - the coat-of-arms of the Castilian Monarchs. However, General de Montcada gave much more attention to others - ones that had a green Greek cross depicted on their snow-white surcoats. - I have never wanted to spill the blood of the holy knights of Calatrava... - the Count of Girona said, shaking his head in disappointment. But at the same time he was outraged - why would a militant monastic order participate in a purely political war, instead of defending the Faith? And Palafox was totally in agreement with him. - They have turned into servants of the King of Castille, sir. A part of his army. After the noble Lopez de Padilla died, he put a favourite of his as Grandmaster. Don Alfonso nodded - so the Knights were here simply because the King Enrique was personally in command of the Castilian army. And the Order of Calatrava wanted to make a mark. The Count of Girona hoped that when his august master would become the lord of all Hispania, the Orders would be returned to their true occupation - fighting heathens. And in meantime... - BOY! What are you doing, standing there and gaping? - de Montcada roared at one of his retainers (and, in fact, his own son), Juan de Garzia, a squire of fifteen years. He grabbed the teenager by the ear and yanked it so hard that the hidalgo yelled with pain. - Ride to von Rothkopf and tell him to mow them down. Jumping atop his grey charger, the youngster took off, clouds of dust whirling under the hoofs of his mount. Very soon he reached the top of the hill, where, among the wineyards, the Aragonese artillery was placed. From here the twelve thousand cannons could have a good view of the whole battlefield - and make their moves without any inteference. Heinz von Rothkopf, a German captain in charge of the guns, pedantically nodded as he received the order - and transferred it to his lieutenants, mainly of the same nation. - Fire! - many voices growled at the same time and the сulverines vomited with fire, smoke and deafening rumble. The battle cries of the Castilian jinetes were replaced by shrieks of pain - and their formation turned into a chaotic crowd. Many have fallen from the saddles with their heads and hands torn off, the others were crushed by their own agonizing horses. When the horns and trumpets were sounded and the hapless cavalrymen began to retreat, no less than one third of them has been left dead, soiling the earth with their chivalrous blood. - Hа! - Don Alfonso exclaimed gleefully and drank from a wineskin. As he was wiping his lips with a handkerchief, his nephew returned - and so did the Castilian horsemen, now accompanied by infantry. They were trying to force the right flank, evading the ferocious culevrines. This time the foe looked even more formidable - the whole mass of pikemen, swordsmen and men-at-arms was moving towards Aragonese lines in quick pace. Young Garzia went pale as he looked at their snarling faces - and, forgetting all reverance, blurted out. - What shall we do, Uncle? The General pointed towards the trenches, his forehead now сovered by concentrated wrinkles. - Go to the colonels. Tell them to reinforce the arqebusiers with knechts - and hold, while I prepare the counterattack. As the boy rode away, the Count of Girona sent another messenger to Rothkopf, asking the artillery to continue doing their job. Where they could reach the enemy, of course.
Castilian jinettes charging
As in most other kingdoms, the Aragonese army lacked definite organizations, its generals shaping it ad hoc, guided by necessity and circumstances. During this war de Montcada divided the infantry into four columns or colunella, each consisting of five thousand warriors. Their commanders were to be called colonels - and the units themselves were often described as tercios, which meant "one third", due to combination of pikes, firearms and swords used within them. Today the formation was going to prove its metal
As the Castillian troops came closer, the arquebusiers, divided into mobile groups called mangas, met them with a storm of fire. The enemy pikemen that were leading the charge could not hide behind their bucklers and mail - and soon covered the ground with their corpses. Many of these that have reached the Aragonese line have fallen into the trenches and were soon finished off - while the others engaged in a hands-to-hand combat with the knechts. Striking with their monstrous halberds and axes, they were cutting their adversaries down by hundreds. The Castilians achieved a limited success by breaking through a line of pikemen in the centre of the Aragonese army - but very soon were pushed out, and as their rear guard tried to reinforce them, the artillery started to blow away at them again. Very soon the attack has fizzled out - and the time for the next move came.
- Bring me my horse! - General de Montcada roared, covering his head with a helmet decorated with white feathers. Then he looked at Señor en Estada - and, with an imperious sign, ordered him to arm himself. - Palafox, you would take charge of the collonellas and attack the retreating Castilians. I would take half of our cavalry and harass their reserve - where the King is, you see. I would either take him prisoner or.... When the aid would be send to him, you would join me - and the remaining horse of ours, commanded by Baron of Polop, would rout them. No listening to stammered questions and pleas not to risk his life, the warlord mounted his gigantic destrier and spurred towards the horsesoldiers. Eight thousand in total, some of them were the traditional jinettes and hidalgo cavaliers of old times - with lances, different family mottos on their striped shields and in expensive tabards. However, many of the troopers, while coming in many cases from the same backgrounds, have become the object of a reform General de Montcada helped to carry out before the campaign. They were trained to become Schwarze Reiters, totally a new type of cavalry, in sturdy armor, carrying not only swords, but arquebuses and pistols at their hip. Combining the deathly blades with no less deathly gunpowder, they were to change the mounted warfare forever. Giving the neccessary instructions to the man in charge of the lot, Pedro Fajardo de Mendoza, Baron of Polop, Don Alfonso quickly took the half of the regiments, including all Reitars, under his hand. Despite his will to modernize the ways of war, he was a knight from his head to his toes - and was not going to sit in a comfortable tent, while the others give their lives away at his orders. It was not noble, it was not Aragonese.
- Santiago! For Ferran of Trastamara! - the hoarse shout of Montcada was repeated by his warriors - and then he and six thousand plungers dashed forward, the wind singing in their ears. As they were half way through, Don Alfonso suddenly noticed that his nephew, Juan the Garzia, was riding near him. - What the hell you are doing there? I promised your mother I would do my best to keep you alive! A scion of small country nobility from Jaca, Juan was put under patronage of Don Alfonso at the age of six, starting as his page. Knowing the character of de Montcada, his parents were quite sure that their scion would have to visit some dangerous places - and tried to get certain guarantees. - I am a hidalgo, no way I am going to leave you and chicken out. And you could tell my mother you tried you best, my lord! - the youngster answered in a hot and quite impudent manner- in a way he would never have spoken to his master at peacetime. Suddenly, instead of becoming angry, the Count found that he was grinning - he was seeing himself in this boy, maybe for the first time since their acquintance. - Very well, stay close to me. But remember - if you are killed, I would beat the shit out of you afterwards!
They did not have much more time for conversation - for the lines of enemy infantry were getting near. De Montcada decided to lead his reiters into a caracole maneuver, in which they proved to be very effective. - Left! - he exclaimed, and turned to one side, the cavalrymen following him. As he did so, he unloaded his arqebuse - and saw a Castillian pikemen fall, both his breastplate and breast turned into a mash of flesh and iron. - Right! - this time he did not shoot, but these of the reitars that carried a pair of pistols, inclined to other side and fired from them. After that they returned to the back of the formation - and the next line of reitars followed. But this was only an appetizer - the main dish was only yet to be served.
- And now charge! - barked Don Alfonso, his horse carrying him into the midst of the confused pikemen. He heard the sound of many swords being taken from the scabbards - and unsheathed his as well. With a first slash he spilt some skull, then pierced a neck of an unknown, yet hapless militaman. The blood on the edge of his sword filled de Montcada with battle rage - and he again and again served blows from the top of his saddle. And around him the troopers were cleaving and paunching and disemboweling as well. Cutting the way through the panicking mass, they were getting closer and closer to the gold-and-green banner - the quarters of King Enrique. - Defend His Majesty! To his aid! The Count of Girona saw a group of royal guardsmen blocking their way. At the same time a regiment of infantry quickly left the main field of battle - where the knechts under Palafox were besetting the retreating Castillians - in order to protect the royal camp. The General smiled - such division of their forces was only serving his aims. - Defend yourself, sir! I am Felipe Tellez-Jiron, the Grandmaster of Calatrava! - a nobleman in a helmet with a cross-shaped pommel and in a wide red mantle galloped towards Don Alfonso. He was quite modest, for he was not only that - but a Count of Urena and a father of number legitimate and illegitimate children. In accordance with the statutes of his Order, he could not be a Grandmaster - but eager to keep the power within the Jiron family, which held it nearly since 1445, the King Enrique secured his elections by shameless bribes. - The Pope did not confirm you, Signor! - said the General, preparing to meet the foe. However, the Grandmaster (be he legal or illegal) served the first blow - his battleaxe hacked through the shield of Alfonso and damaged his shoulder. Hissing from pain, the Count of Girona raised his sword and brought it down in one mighty strike, сutting the throat of Jiron open. As the lad gasped, dropped the axe and grabbed the mane of his horse, de Montcada finished him with another violent jab. Simultaneously the remains of royal guardsmen were shot by the reitars - and the King, with the remains of the his armies, began to withdraw. However many of his troops, both cavalry and infantry, were routed, the supplies and wagon trains have fallen to the hands of victorious Aragonese - and more than a half of his regiments were now not among the living.
The skirmish near the camp of the Castilian King
- Are you wounded, sir? - as the battle finished, Palafox rode towards his commander-in-chief, wiping sweat off his round face. Don Alfonso, surrounded by his men, was inspecting the corpse of Grandmaster Jiron. - Give him a Christian burial, a brave man he was... Just a scratch, Senor Alonzo. So, what are the casualities? The Maestre de Campo washed his hands in a basin of clear water, before answering. - We have lost around four thousands - and they have lost nine... The Count smiled and wanted to say something - but at that moment he saw a man being led to him. - Who is that? One of the reitars pointed at his captive - it was an old infantry captain, with a face covered by bleeding scars, a crooked nose and tired eyes. - Sir, this was the man who... has maybe saved King Enrique. He commanded that troop that blocked out way to his headquarters. The Count of Girona put his hands on the shoulders of the grey-headed prisoner and bowed to him. - Your courage is commendable, sir. I am Lord Alfonso de Montcada. With whom do I have the honor to speak...? The Castillian officer returned the greeting, after taking several gulps of air - he was definitely exhausted. - Loyalty is all a hidalgo has, sir.... Don Martín Cortés de Monroy**, at your service. As both the General and captain walked towards the tent, Lord Alfonso, while praising the brave ways of Cortés, turned to more practical matters. - You would be treated well, good sir... but are you wealthy enough to pay the ransom, in accordance with the tradition? Don Martin sighed - and then laughed. Quite bitterly, it must be said. - I have nothing but an adventurous son, my sword and a leg that does not bend after being hit by a Saracen arrow, noble Count! Maybe it would be cheaper to hang me. Laughing at the joke of this war hound, Don Alfonso ordered to give him enough food and drink. - We would fix something, I am sure... Now, this a good start of campaign - and I hope that Almighty would let us conclude it well.
Don Alfonso de Montcada (in the midst of knights, with a plumage of white feathers) giving his last condolences to Grandmaster Jiron of Calatrava
About two years later, after the end of the Third Castillian War, En Alfonso Narzis Montcada, informed of the ascension of the new Monarch, forwarded the following latter to him.
To Ferran, third of that name, of the House Trastamara, King of Aragon and Protector of the Greeks (Michaelangelo - Private)
Your Majesty,
While in grief over the death of your August predecessor, I pledge my eternal loyalty to your illustrious person and your Throne. A loyal vassal to Trastamara Kings, I would be glad if my Sovereign would find my service useful, am ready to always be at your disposal and defend your divine rights from any enemies, be they internal and external.
At the same time, I want to congratulate Your Majesty on the victory over Castillians - and point that it was an honor for me to contribute to such. During the last years the armies of Your Majesty, under my command, were tirelessly battling both the Portuguese and Castilians in Cuenca, Toleda, Badajos, Cantabria, taking many towns and fortified castles. While I see myself only as an instrument in the hands of the Almighty and the Trastamara Kings, I must commend the patriotism and valor of Aragonese soldiers that have fearlessly given their lifes for their Monarch and fatherland. I am sure that such a great victory is a sign of a benevolence of our Saviour and that to Him, first of all, should we thankful for these successes. I have asked the chaplains to immediately serve a mass to celebrate the triumph of Your Majesty.
I send my King, with Don Alonzo de Palafox and my nephew, Don Juan de Gartzia, the numerous banners and standards, as well as the war trophies, that we took from Portuguese and Castillians, and hope to be able to arrive at your Cortz soon as well.
Your obedient servant,
Alfonso Narzis de Montcada
* Clearly one of the ancestors of José Rebolledo de Palafox y Melzi, Duke of Saragossa, a Spanish general in a Pennisular
** No other than the father of the famous conquistodor and traveller Hernan Cortes.
Last edited:
- 5
- 1