* In consequence of this wound the marques was ever after obliged to write his signature with his left hand, though capable of managing his lance with his right. The queen one day demanded of him why he had adventured his life for that of a domestic? “Does not Your Majesty think,” replied he, “that I ought to risk one life for him who would have adventured three for me had he possessed them?” The queen was charmed with the magnanimity of the reply, and often quoted the marques as setting an heroic example to the chivalry of the age.--Mariana, lib. 25, c. 15. Such was one of the many ambuscadoes concerted by Muza; nor did he hesitate at times to present a bold front to the Christian forces and defy them in the open field. Ferdinand soon perceived, however, that the Moors seldom provoked a battle without having the advantage of the ground, and that, though the Christians generally appeared to have the victory, they suffered the greatest loss; for retreating was a part of the Moorish system by which they would draw their pursuers into confusion, and then turn upon them with a more violent and fatal attack. He commanded his captains, therefore, to decline all challenges to skirmish, and pursue a secure system of destruction, ravaging the country and doing all possible injury to the enemy with slight risk to themselves. CHAPTER LXXXV. THE FATE OF THE CASTLE OF ROMA. About two leagues from Granada, on an eminence commanding an extensive view of the Vega, stood the strong Moorish castle of Roma. Hither the neighboring peasantry drove their flocks and herds and hurried with their most precious effects on the irruption of a Christian force, and any foraging or skirmishing party from Granada, on being intercepted in their return, threw themselves into Roma, manned its embattled towers, and set the enemy at defiance. The garrison were accustomed to have parties of Moors clattering up to their gates so hotly pursued that there was barely time to throw open the portal, receive them within, and shut out their pursuers; while the Christian cavaliers had many a time reined up their panting steeds at the very entrance of the barbican, and retired, cursing the strong walls of Roma that robbed them of their prey. The late ravages of Ferdinand and the continual skirmishings in the Vega had roused the vigilance of the castle. One morning early, as the sentinels kept watch upon the battlements, they beheld a cloud of dust advancing rapidly from a distance: turbans and Moorish weapons soon caught their eyes, and as the whole approached they descried a drove of cattle urged on in great haste and convoyed by one hundred and fifty Moors, who led with them two Christian captives in chains.