Several cavaliers, who had hitherto followed the grand master with devoted zeal, were moved by these expostulations, and suggested to him the policy of listening to this advice. “Cavaliers,” said he, addressing himself to Alonzo Fernandez de Cordova and his companions, “I thank you for the counsel you have so kindly bestowed upon me, and if I were merely in pursuit of individual glory I might be swayed by it. But I am engaged to achieve a great triumph of the faith, which God is to effect by miracle through my means. As to you, cavaliers,” turning to those of his followers who had wavered, “if your hearts fail you, or you repent of having put your hands to this good work, return, in God’s name, and my blessing go with you. For myself, though I have none to stand by me but this holy hermit, yet will I assuredly proceed; until I have planted this sacred standard on the walls of Granada, or perished in the attempt.” “Don Martin Yañez de Barbudo,” replied the cavaliers, “we are not men to turn our backs upon our commander, however rash his enterprise. We spoke but in caution. Lead on, therefore, and if it be to the death, be assured to the death we will follow thee.” By this time the common soldiers became impatient. “Forward! forward!” shouted they. “Forward in the cause of faith.” So the grand master gave signal, the hermit again reared the cross aloft, and they poured down a defile of the mountain, with solemn chants of triumph. That night they encamped at the river of Azores, and the next morning, which was Sunday, crossed the borders. Their first pause was at an atalaya or solitary tower, built upon a rock; a frontier post to keep a watch upon the border, and give notice of invasion. It was thence called el Torre del Exea (the tower of the spy). The grand master halted before it and summoned its petty garrison to surrender. He was answered by a shower of stones and arrows, which wounded him in the hand and killed three of his men. “How is this, father?” said he to the hermit; “you assured me that not one of my followers would be slain!” “True, my son; but I meant in the great battle of the infidel king; what need is there of miracle to aid in the capture of a petty tower?” The grand master was satisfied. He ordered wood to be piled against the door of the tower to burn it down. In the mean time provisions were unloaded from the sumpter-mules, and the crusaders, withdrawing beyond bow-shot, sat down on the grass to a repast to strengthen them for the arduous day’s work before them. While thus engaged, they were startled by the sudden appearance of a great Moorish host. The atalayas had given the alarm by fire and smoke from the mountain-tops of “an enemy across the border,” and the king of Granada had sallied forth with a great force to the encounter.