In March, 1495, the “League of Venice” made it patent to Europe that the Empire, Spain, Rome, Milan, and Venice had pledged themselves to unite for the mutual preservation of their dominions. Secret stipulations explained that this end would be secured by Ferdinand dispatching an army to Sicily to help Ferrante II. in recovering his kingdom, the Venetian fleet meanwhile, attacking the Neapolitan coast-towns in French hands. Spanish and Imperial forces would also assault France on her southern and eastern boundaries; while Ludovico Sforza employed the mercenary levies of Milan in holding the passes of the Alps against any further inroad of “Barbarians.” To Charles, idling at Naples, the menace of the League came like a thunderclap. As timid now as formerly self-confident, he cast Jerusalem from his thoughts, and in May, 1495, turned his face homewards at the head of some ten thousand men. The rest of his army remained to guard his newly acquired kingdom, with the Count of Montpensier as Viceroy and Stuart d’Aubigny, a Scotch soldier of repute, as Governor-General of Calabria. At Fornovo, in Milanese territory, the retreating invaders were attacked by Ludovico’s troops in combination with the Venetians, but succeeded in repulsing them and making their way safely across the frontier. Much of their baggage, however, fell into Italian hands, and the Allies loudly proclaimed their victory. Fortune, hitherto so indulgent, was tired of her incapable protégé, and at her frown his dominion quickly crumbled away. As he quitted Neapolitan territory Ferrante II., supported by a Spanish army under Gonsalvo de Cordova, left Sicily for the mainland, and though at first held at bay by D’Aubigny, had regained the greater part of his inheritance before a year had passed. In July, 1496, Naples “the fickle” opened her gates to him; while later in the same month the Viceroy, Montpensier, whose frantic appeals to his master for reinforcements had been ignored, was driven to capitulate at Atella. “Of the expedition of Charles VIII.,” says a French historian, “no more trace remained than of the exploits of Amadis de Gaula.” Judging by merely tangible results, or rather by the lack of them, it may appear at first sight that in a biography of Isabel of Castile, this campaign has received unmerited attention. The French meteor had come and gone; and the balance of power in Italy, although badly shaken, was restored to its equilibrium. Individual rulers had passed from the board; but Milan, Venice, Florence, Rome, and Naples once more checked and counter-checked each other’s moves. How could this temporary disarrangement be said to have concerned Spain, save to afford a passing triumph for Ferdinand’s diplomacy?