Black smoke swirled in the ocean breezes above the Fortress of the Alhambra, as the combined armies of Castile and Aragon compassed the citadel round and about.
The great Catholic Monarchs, Isabella and Ferdinand, were determined to finally and forever end the eight-hundred year-old occupation of their lands by the hated Moors.
Scores of heavily laden Moorish baggalas raced to evacuate men and treasure to Africa. Yet even as they fled, the defiant Moors punished the charging Spanish troops with a brutal rain of fire from the high bombard towers.
The smaller Spanish culverins and serpentines could scarcely reach the accursed towers positioned deep behind the massive outer walls. Instead, the Spaniards focused their fire on the main gates, hoping desperately to achieve a breach as their brave foot soldiers continued to fall by the hundreds.
“The gates will not give way,” a Spanish general called out to his comrades. “We must pull back, out of the range of those bombards!”
“Wait!” another cried. “We must give him more time!”
“You place too much hope in your filthy English mercenary,” the first general hissed between clenched teeth.
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