The real laurels of victory belong indeed to Gonsalvo de Cordova; for, though the French army could boast heroes of chivalry, such as Bayard the “knight without fear or stain,” and generals of skill and courage, such as D’Aubigny, it had no soldier who could in any way approach the genius of the “Great Captain.” Gonsalvo had been bred in a school of war, which gave individual talent full scope, and like his elder brother, Alonso de Aguilar, he had been early singled out by Isabel for praise and advancement. [Illustration: SPANISH MAN-AT-ARMS, FIFTEENTH CENTURY FROM “SPANISH ARMS AND ARMOUR” REPRODUCED BY COURTESY OF THE AUTHOR, MR. A. F. CALVERT ] To the light-hearted chivalry of the courtier, he united the prudence and foresight of a practised statesman, and the patience and equable temperament of the born ruler of men. In the fire before Granada which destroyed the Queen’s tent, he had been prompt to put at her disposal his wife’s wardrobe; an act of courtesy that caused Isabel to remark she was afraid he and his family had suffered more loss than herself. This and similar deeds of courtesy made him a pattern of manners in his own day, but like the English Sir Walter Raleigh he was no mere carpet-knight in search of royal favour. He was devoid of personal fear, yet, when large issues depended on his orders, he never let his courage degenerate into recklessness, after the manner of the average Castilian commander, and perhaps his greatest military gift was his power of judging whether the occasion required caution or a daring onslaught. Never was a leader more intrepid in attack, more cool in the hour of retreat, or less easily drawn from a good position by feint or scoff. “A general,” he once remarked, “must obtain the victory at any price, right or wrong. Afterwards he will be able to make tenfold compensation to those whom he has injured.” This specious reasoning is characteristic both of the man and the age in which he lived; and Gonsalvo, like many of his contemporaries, was a strange combination of sincerity and unscrupulous dealing. After the campaign against Charles VIII., in which he had assisted Ferrante II. to win back his kingdom, the Spanish General had been rewarded by a lavish grant of Neapolitan territory. When, however, war broke out once more, and Gonsalvo found he must lead his troops against his former Allies, his code of honour prompted him to inform them of his regret at this necessity and to offer the restoration of their gifts before embarking on hostile measures. At the surrender of Taranto in 1502, on the other hand, having promised on oath that the young Duke of Calabria, Federigo’s eldest son, should be free to go where he liked, he nevertheless arrested the boy and sent him a prisoner to Spain. It has been argued that, in the latter case, he had received sudden orders from Ferdinand not on any account to let the Duke escape; but the excuse, if true is after all a sorry shelter for his bad faith.