Charles VIII. was wise to treat his brave men well; for the day was at hand when he would need them and all their bravery. It was in the duchy of Parma, near the town of Fornovo, on the right bank of the Taro, an affluent of the Po, that the French and Italian armies met, on the 5th of July, 1495. The French army was nine or ten thousand strong, with five or six thousand camp followers, servants or drivers; the Italian army numbered at least thirty thousand men, well supplied and well rested, whereas the French were fatigued with their long march, and very badly off for supplies. During the night between the 5th and 6th of July, a violent storm burst over the country, “rain, lightnings, and thunder so mighty,” says Commynes, “that none could say more; seemed that heaven and earth would dissolve, or that it portended some great disaster to come.” Next day, at six in the morning, Charles VIII. heard mass, received the communion, mounted on horseback, and set out to join his own division. “I went to him,” says Commynes, “and found him armed at all points, and mounted upon the finest horse I had ever seen in my life, called Savoy; Duke Charles of Savoy (the Duchess of Savoy,? v. p. 288) had given it him; it was black, and had but one eye; it was a middle-sized horse, of good height for him who was upon it. Seemed that this young man was quite other than either his nature, his stature, or his complexion bespoke him, for he was very timid in speaking, and is so to this day. That horse made him look tall; and he had a good countenance, and of good color, and speech bold and sensible.” On perceiving Commynes, the king said to him, “Go and see if yonder folks would fain parley.” “Sir,” answered Commynes, “I will do so willingly; but I never saw two so great hosts so near to one another, and yet go their ways without fighting.” He went, nevertheless, to the Venetian advanced posts, and his trumpeter was admitted to the presence of the Marquis of Mantua, who commanded the Italian army; but skirmishing had already commenced in all quarters, and the first boom of the cannon was heard just as the marquis was reading Commynes’ letter. “It is too late to speak of peace,” said he; and the trumpeter was sent back. The king had joined the division which he was to lead to battle. “Gentlemen,” said he to the men-at-arms who pressed around him, “you will live or die here with me, will you not?” And then raising his voice that he might be heard by the troops, “They are ten times as many as we,” he said; “but you are ten times better than they; God loves the French; He is with us, and will do battle for us. As far as Naples I have had the victory over my enemies; I have brought you hither without shame or blame; with God’s help I will lead you back into France, to our honor and that of our kingdom.” The men-at-arms made the sign of the cross; the foot-soldiers kissed the ground; and the king made several knights, according to custom, before going into action. The Marquis of Mantua’s squadrons were approaching. “Sir,” said the bastard of Bourbon, “there is no longer time for the amusement of making knights; the enemy is coming on in force; go we at him.” The king gave orders to charge, and the battle began at all points.