A Wind From the North (7 page)

Silently Prince Henry’s force crept round Almina Point. They passed the bulk of Mount Hacko, looming up against the night sky, rounded Desnaricado Point, and came to anchor in the small bay.

Dawn came with a flicker over the warm sea. The night mist peeled away from the mountains, and the scent of the land drew out across the damp decks. The ships came alive like birds waking at the first light. They began to stir and rustle.

Shouting the names of friends, and whistling to attract their attention, the men began to prepare themselves for battle. Some were sharpening their weapons, others polishing their armor, and others checking rivet points on their leather doublets. Here a knight was being helped by his squire into his shining casque. There a group of men-at-arms aimed mock blows at each other. Others, recalling their sins, were making their confessions to the priests, “laying bare to God the great repentance which was in their hearts.” One man was trying the balance of a battle-ax, swinging it about his head to see if anything hindered him in his movements. The archers strung their bows, checked them to see that the damp air had not affected them, and fingered the goose feathers of their arrows. So the sun came up on the morning of the battle, and the landings began.

To Prince Henry’s profound annoyance, the first man ashore was Ruy Gongalves, a nobleman in the entourage of the Count of Barcellos. King John had promised Henry the honor of being the first man to set foot on infidel territory, and Henry had been waiting for his father’s signal. But at the sight of armed men landing on the beach, he could no longer restrain himself. He ordered the trumpeters to sound the charge, and leapt into a boat, followed by Prince Edward.

Suddenly the still morning was savaged by noise as the enemy came streaming down the beach to repel the invaders. Soon the clash of metal upon metal was joined by the sharp hiss of arrows and the groans of wounded. To the rattle of sand and stones, boat after boat came lifting over the waves to ground on the African shore.

As King John had foreseen, the bulk of the Moorish fighting men was on the western walls of the city. Against the armor, the swords, and the lances of Prince Henry’s men, these Moors were practically defenseless, opposing them with desperate showers of stones—but little more. Even so, they gave way slowly, some distinguishing themselves by a courage and violence that the contemporary Portuguese chronicler recorded with respect. “… and among all these Moors there was one, very tall and of a most threatening complexion, all naked, who used no other weapons than stones, but each of the stones that he threw seemed to be hurled by a catapult or cannon, such was the strength of his arm. And when the Moors were thrust back against the gate of the city, he turned toward the Christians, stooped, and threw a stone which struck Vasco Martins d’Al-bergaria and carried away the visor of his casque. The aspect of this Moor was such as to inspire terror, since all his body was black as a crow, and he had very long white teeth, and his lips, which were fleshy, were turned back. But Vasco Martins, despite the violence of the blow, did not lose countenance and did not fail to pay back the Moor, who had barely time to turn round when the lance of the Portuguese pierced him through.”

As soon as their champion fell, the spirit went out of the other defenders. They rushed back to the city, leaving the invaders to follow them. The Portuguese, with Prince Henry leading and Prince Edward close behind, were now at the Almina gate of the city. Before the defenders could close the vast, studded doors against them, they poured into the city. Now the armored men were like a shining river sluicing through the dusty streets of the old town.

Henry and Peter sighted a small mound that dominated that part of Ceuta. Followed by the Count of Barcellos and a handful of soldiers, they hacked their way out of the dangerous narrow alleys toward this vantage point. Gasping for breath and drenched with sweat, they took the hillock at a run. The stench, and the flies that rose up in a dark cloud, told them that it was the city’s main refuse dump. They paused at the top to get their breath and survey the battle. It was here, on this

malodorous mound of refuse and ordure, that Henry’s squires planted his standard. It shook and quivered in the light breeze that drew seaward out of the city—the standard of Prince Henry of Portugal, the first Christian flag to fly over North Africa.

King John, meanwhile, had sent word for the attack to begin, only to learn that his orders had been anticipated. Two of his sons were already in the city. He heard the sound of trumpets and the clash of arms within the walls. The noblemen around him said mournfully, “We shall arrive too late. There will be no glorious deeds of arms left for us.”

The King ordered the main body of the troops to begin their attack. Gangplanks were lowered, and all the small boats were called away. Soon the waters of the bay were scissored by the wakes of the main invasion force making for the beach beneath the city’s walls.

The King was wounded in the leg in the first stage of the assault. Reluctantly, he was forced to halt by the main gate of the city, and to watch the other knights and men-at-arms stream past him. Some were bound to the attack, and some were already burdening themselves with loot from the houses. Smoke and dust lifted in clouds over the tawny walls. The cries, the shouts, and the clamor of the trumpets were so great that it was said the sound of the battle was heard across the strait in Gibraltar.

Attacked on both sides, and with an increasing flood of Portuguese now pouring through the breached gate from the main invasion fleet, Sala-ben-Sala abandoned the city. He and a few other chiefs, together with their wives and valuables, escaped through the gate to the mainland. As they looked back, they could see the enemy ships busily disgorging soldiers in a pincer movement on either side of the headland. The sandy bays were dappled with boats and bright with sunlight on armor.

In the hot alleys of the old town the battle swayed back and forth. Prince Henry was lost in the confusion of the struggle. It was no longer a co-ordinated affair, but a series of individual skirmishes; parties of troops looting one house; others pursuing the defenders back to the citadel; and others again being driven in flight by more determined groups of the enemy. His brothers and his squires saw him disappear into the thick of the battle and despaired for him. His father, encamped at the main gate, was brought word that his favorite son was dead.

“Such is the end that soldiers must expect” was his laconic reply.

But Henry was at the outer door of the castle itself. He had cleared the enemy from the streets behind him, and had barricaded them into the one strong point that remained in the city. He was finally discovered by Garcia Moniz, who had been his tutor when he was a child. Most of Henry’s followers had drifted away, some to loot and others intent on food and drink (they had had nothing to eat since early morning). He alone had been blind to everything but the task of victory.

Garcia Moniz discovered him thus, bloody and disheveled, sword in hand and his dark eyes exultant. He ran forward and clasped the young man to him.

“You wish to attempt things that are beyond the powers of man!” he said. The words were prophetic.

That evening the last strong point of Ceuta, the citadal, fell to the Portuguese. The last of the defenders fled to the mountains and inland villages, the treasure of Sala-ben-Sala was captured, and the flag of Prince Edward flaunted upon the tower of Fez. The golden city of Ceuta was taken.

The streets seethed with soldiers, and flames flickered over dark faces bent on plunder. They staggered under rich carpets and jewelry, Oriental vases and tapestries, wine and oil, and delicate silks. Order and discipline had long since gone. They were now drawing their pay in the manner of the time.

King John was overjoyed to find his son—despite his Spartan acceptance of the first ill news. He listened to tales of Henry’s deeds, of how he had led the attack, and how for many hours he had always been in the forefront of battle. He learned that it was Prince Henry who had been first at the gate of the castle.

“I will knight you first before your brothers,” he said fondly.

“God brought us into the world one after the other. I beg you, let the honor of knighthood go in the same succession.”

On the first Sunday after the battle, in the cleansed and consecrated mosque, the victors prepared to celebrate Mass. Te Deum Laudamus, they sang, as two hundred trumpets sounded over the captured city. Above the heads of the King and his sons, two old church bells swung and boomed. Prince Henry had remembered that these bells, captured years before from the village of Sines in the Portuguese province of Algarve, were kept in Ceuta. He had made a search for them, and now, restored to their ancient use, they joined in the thanksgiving.

When Mass was over, the princes retired to their apartments and put on their armor before returning to the church for the ceremony of knighthood. “… and this was a noble sight indeed, for all three of the princes had tall well-built bodies, and their armour was gleaming and richly adorned. From their belts hung the swords which their mother had blessed. Before them went the trumpets and the drums. I do not believe that there was a single man there who did not take pleasure in beholding them.”

One after the other, the young princes knelt to receive from King John the accolade of knighthood. This was their moment of triumph. Distinguished in their first battle, conquerors of the great city of Ceuta, they were knighted in a mosque consecrated to the Christian faith, under the recaptured bells of Sines. A medieval dream of knighthood with honor had led them to this North African shore, and to this brilliant moment. Throughout their lives they would remember it. It was the golden hour of youth, when all dreams seem capable of fulfillment.

The capture of Ceuta was the first great European success against the Mohammedans in their own territory. Ceuta was also the first European base to be established on the continent of Africa. From it would spring that gradual occupation and colonization of the continent, the problems arising from which constitute one of the major issues of our own day.

The fleet, which “to the sound of divers instruments of music” returned in triumph to Portugal, was celebrating no more than a brilliant success in the long war between cross and crescent. The news of the victory (which swiftly circulated through the courts of Europe) meant little more to those who heard it than a confirmation of the military prowess of King John. It induced respect among the Castilians and the Moors of Granada. It confirmed, for all who had previously doubted, that the kingdom of Portugal was now a power to be reckoned with, and that the dynasty founded by the master of the House of Aviz was secure. The real achievement of Ceuta was invisible to those whose eyes were fixed on the contemporary scene.

Only one man, perhaps, had any conception of what Ceuta could mean to Portugal, and it is very doubtful whether even Prince Henry realized that this was to be the beginning of the discovery of Africa. His aims at this period of his life were simple. He saw Ceuta as the springboard for a Portuguese Moroccan empire, which might turn the flank of the Mohammedans as well as provide the necessary wealth to make his country a great power.

As the fleet turned northward past Cape Spartel and ran out into the Atlantic, Henry may have visualized all that foreign shore under Portuguese control, with garrisons and trading posts, safe harbors for ships, and markets whence the gold and spices of Africa might be transshipped to Portugal. If Ceuta, why not Gibraltar? With both of the Pillars of Hercules in Portuguese hands, the navigation of the strait would become a Portuguese monopoly. Beyond that again lay the dream of the capture of Tangier. This would give them both the major seaports of the Moroccan coastline, and enable them to expand into the interior. It was not until many years later, when his dream of a Portuguese Moroccan empire had been shattered, that he concentrated all his powers and ability on exploring the coastline of Africa.

When they sailed from Ceuta, the Portuguese left a garrison of three thousand men behind them. The garrison was under the command of Count Dom Pedro de Menezes, a nobleman who was to hold the governorship for over twenty years. During this time he had many opportunities for displaying his skill in repulsing numerous attacks, for the Moors did not despair of recovering their Golden City. Ceuta, after all, was only an island in the middle of a hostile empire, and an island can easily be blockaded. It was this fact, which had escaped the notice of the King and his advisers when they were contemplating the venture, that rendered the capture of Ceuta a somewhat hollow victory. The city was rich and prosperous only because it was an outlet for the Moroccan trade. But since that trade was in the hands of enemies, it very quickly began to dry up. The caravans came no longer, the metalworkers, the jewelers, the weavers, and the potters had all fled. Throughout Prince Henry’s life Ceuta remained a valuable acquisition in terms of prestige, but an expensive one in other respects. The Barbary Coast, that famed haunt of the Moslem pirates, had lost one of its most important ports—that was all. The Portuguese had not gained, as they had hoped to do, a thriving city that would increase their prosperity. To begin with, it was enough for King John, for Nuno Pereira, and for the nobility and the courts of Europe, that the kingdom of Portugal had gained a great victory over the infidel. Only Prince Henry saw that Ceuta was no more than Dead Sea fruit unless Tangier and the coastline between the two cities were added to the Portuguese crown.

In recognition of his part in the landings, and in the taking of the city, his father made Prince Henry Duke of Viseu and Lord of Covilham. His brother Prince Peter was made Duke of Coimbra. For Prince Edward, heir to the throne, there could be no additional honors, but it was a curious lack of foresight on the part of the King that he passed over the claims of his bastard son, the Count of Barcellos, who had also fought bravely in the campaign. This omission increased a natural bitterness and sense of rivalry, which would have unhappy repercussions in the future. Prince Henry, in addition to these other marks of favor, was made governor of Ceuta. It was a post that he discharged faithfully to the end of his life. Although it did not necessitate his presence in the city, it gave him a permanent interest in Africa.