Slaves sweated over the long looms of the galleys’ oars, and Christian slaves were one of Ceuta’s profitable imports.

The city derived its name from the Arabic Sebta, which in its turn derived from the ancient Roman colony Septem Fratres (The Seven Brothers), and, like Rome itself, was built upon seven hills. Even before the Romans came, its importance had been seen by those great navigators of the ancient world, the Phoenicians, who had established a trading post on this rocky outcrop of the Dark Continent. The craggy shoulders of Gibraltar and Mount Hacko constituted the western limit of the ancient world. Beyond them began the surge and swallow of the great ocean, “the untraversed sea beyond the Pillars,” where—as Euripides wrote—“lies the end of voyaging, and the Ruler of the Ocean no longer permits mariners to travel on the purple sea.”

To Ceuta came the caravans from the interior of Africa and from the Atlantic seaboard of Morocco. Its importance as a trading post with the unknown and unexplored continent had long been obvious. The city was not only a haven for pirates, but an industrial and commercial center as well, famous among other things for its magnificent brassware. It was the first place in the West where a paper manufactory was established. To Ceuta came the carpets and ceramics of the East, ivory and gold from Africa, and slaves from every quarter. To attack such an important center of the Mohammedan world was a daring enterprise for a small European country that had only recently established its own security.

Twenty-six years had passed since King John’s decisive victory at Aljubarrota, when, in 1411, a peace treaty was signed between Portugal and Castile. King John’s sons, Edward, Peter, and Henry, were then twenty, nineteen, and seventeen. It was time in that day and age for young men of their rank to receive the honor of knighthood. But spurs might be won only upon the battlefield or in the lists of the tournament. The conception of life was medieval still, and if the lifework of Prince Henry was to constitute the first dawning of the Renaissance, the fact remains that it was a medieval idea of chivalry that first led to the attack on Ceuta.

Now that the peace treaty was concluded with Castile, there was no available battlefield on which the young princes might win their spurs. To remedy this, King John suggested that he should hold a series of tournaments—to take place every day throughout a year—to which all the European nations would be invited to send their champions. Amid such a gathering of European nobility, the princes might honorably win their spurs and be knighted in front of their peers.

But the blood that the young men had inherited from their fiery father and from the House of Lancaster revolted against such a means of winning their knighthood. Tournaments might be a suitable field for the minor nobility or the sons of merchants, but not for the Portuguese royal house and the grandsons of John of Gaunt.

It was at this point that Joao Affonso, the King’s treasurer, introduced the name of the Moorish city, and to him must go the credit for perceiving Ceuta’s economic and strategic importance.

“Why not a campaign against Ceuta?” he said.

The young men enthusiastically proposed the idea to the King, who countered it with many logical objections. Among them were the financial expense of such an expedition and the fact that while the Portuguese fleet and army were away, the kingdom would be defenseless if Castile should see fit to break the peace treaty. The princes digested their father’s arguments and returned to the subject a few days later. Having heard them out, King John sent privately for Prince Henry.

It is a mark of distinction that the King should have sent for the youngest of his sons. Even at seventeen Henry must have shown evidence of a nature stronger and more dedicated than his brothers’. If he said less than the volatile Peter, and was less sensitive than the heir, Prince Edward, he had a quiet certainty inherited from his mother.

“Everything we do in this world,” said the young Prince, “must be based on three factors: the past, the present, and the future. In the past, my father, you had nothing but this city of Lisbon on your side. Nearly all the strongholds of Portugal were barred against you. Yet, all the same, with the help of God, you triumphed. You are stronger now, and there is no reason to think that God’s help is withdrawn from you. To judge, then, from the past, I maintain that if you did not then fear Castile, there is less reason why you should do so now. As for the present, reason again tells me that you should not shrink from war against the infidels out of fear of Castile. The Castilians are Christians like ourselves, whereas the others are our natural enemies. As for the future, I cannot see how the capture of Ceuta can in any way be construed as a threat against Castile. In fact, the Castilians will only see it as further evidence of the strength of our nation.