Today, Spain commemorates its patron saint, James, son of Zebedee. Known primarily as the elder brother of John the Evangelist, for more than a thousand years he was far better known as *Santiago Matamoros *— St. James the Moor (that is, Muslim) slayer — and was the embodiment of Spain’s holy war against Islam.
On this of all days, recalling his story seems not only appropriate but necessary.
In the year 711, Muslims from North Africa poured into Christian Spain—a land many believe St. James himself evangelized in the first century AD. I have already documented the atrocities Muslims committed during this invasion (see Chapters 3 and 6 of * Sword and Scimitar*), but for our present purpose, two facts are relevant.
First, not all of the Iberian Peninsula was conquered; a remnant of Christians who refused to bow to Muslim rule retreated into the mountainous region of Asturias in the northwest.
Second, Muslim aggression continued against this fledgling Christian enclave until the late eighth century, when a fragile peace was struck on the humiliating condition that the Christian king of Asturias send 100 virgin girls each year to the emir of Córdoba.
This vile arrangement persisted for decades, until King Ramiro I (r. 842–850) ascended the throne and ended it.
Muslim retribution was swift and terrible. Ramiro’s defiance was viewed not simply as political rebellion but as a blasphemous insult to Islamic supremacy. In response, the emir of Córdoba dispatched a massive army northward to crush the impudent Christians once and for all.
According to the chronicles, the Muslim force numbered some 60,000 Arab and Berber warriors gathered from across al-Andalus.
Ramiro could muster only 5,000 — a small force of Asturian and Galician warriors armed more with faith than with steel.
The two armies met near the town of Clavijo in the rugged hills of La Rioja. The Christians steeled themselves for annihilation. As night fell, King Ramiro withdrew to his tent and prayed for divine aid.
That aid came in the form of a vision. St. James the Greater — apostle of Christ and evangelist of Iberia — appeared to the king: radiant, sword drawn, mounted on a white horse. He promised to ride with the Christian army into battle and crush the enemies of Christ.
Ramiro awoke transformed.
“Saint James fights for us!” he was heard crying before sunrise, as his confused men slowly began to gather. “Let the enemies of Christ fall beneath his sword!”
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