The Moors, however, did not suffer the Christians to carry on their ravages unmolested, as in former years. Muza incited them to incessant sallies. He divided his cavalry into small squadrons, each led by a daring commander. They were taught to hover round the Christian camp; to harass it from various and opposite quarters, cutting off convoys and straggling detachments; to waylay the army in its ravaging expeditions, lurking among rocks and passes of the mountains or in hollows and thickets of the plain, and practising a thousand stratagems and surprises. The Christian army had one day spread itself out rather unguardedly in its foraging about the Vega. As the troops commanded by the marques of Villena approached the skirts of the mountains, they beheld a number of Moorish peasants hastily driving a herd of cattle into a narrow glen. The soldiers, eager for booty, pressed in pursuit of them. Scarcely had they entered the glen when shouts arose from every side, and they were furiously attacked by an ambuscade of horse and foot. Some of the Christians took to flight; others stood their ground and fought valiantly. The Moors had the vantage-ground; some showered darts and arrows from the cliffs of the rocks, others fought hand to hand on the plain, while their cavalry carried havoc and confusion into the midst of the Christian forces. The marques de Villena, with his brother, Don Alonso de Pacheco, at the first onset of the Moors spurred into the hottest of the fight. They had scarce entered when Don Alonso was struck lifeless from his horse before the eyes of his brother. Estevan Luzon, a gallant captain, fell fighting bravely by the side of the marques, who remained, with his chamberlain Soler and a handful of knights, surrounded by the enemy. Several cavaliers from other parts of the army hastened to their assistance, when King Ferdinand, seeing that the Moors had the vantage-ground and that the Christians were suffering severely, gave signal for retreat. The marques obeyed slowly and reluctantly, for his heart was full of grief and rage at the death of his brother. As he was retiring he beheld his faithful chamberlain Soler defending himself valiantly against six Moors. The marques turned and rushed to his rescue; he killed two of the enemy with his own hand and put the rest to flight. One of the Moors, however, in retreating, rose in his stirrups, and, hurling his lance at the marques, wounded him in the right arm and crippled him for life.*