The youthful commander-in-chief obtained more than his full mead of glory.  No doubt he had fought with brilliant courage, yet in so close and murderous a conflict, the valor of no single individual could decide the day, and the result was due to the combined determination of all.  Had Don John remained at Naples, the issue might have easily been the same.  Barbarigo, who sealed the victory with his blood; Colonna, who celebrated a solemn triumph on his return to Rome; Parma, Doria, Giustiniani, Venieri, might each as well have claimed a monopoly of the glory, had not the Pope, at Philip’s entreaty, conferred the baton of command upon Don John.  The meagre result of the contest is as notorious as the victory.  While Constantinople was quivering with apprehension, the rival generals were already wrangling with animosity.  Had the Christian fleet advanced, every soul would have fled from the capital, but Providence had ordained otherwise, and Don John sailed westwardly with his ships.  He made a descent on the Barbary coast, captured Tunis, destroyed Biserta, and brought King Amidas and his two sons prisoners to Italy.  Ordered by Philip to dismantle the fortifications of Tunis, he replied by repairing them thoroughly, and by placing a strong garrison within the citadel.  Intoxicated with his glory, the young adventurer already demanded a crown, and the Pope was disposed to proclaim him King of Tunis, for the Queen of the Lybian seas was to be the capital of his Empire, the new Carthage which he already dreamed.

Philip thought it time to interfere, for he felt that his own crown might be insecure, with such a restless and ambitious spirit indulging in possible and impossible chimeras.  He removed John de Soto, who had been Don John’s chief councillor and emissary to the Pope, and substituted in his place the celebrated and ill-starred Escovedo.  The new secretary, however, entered as heartily but secretly into all these romantic schemes.  Disappointed of the Empire which he had contemplated on the edge of the African desert, the champion of the Cross turned to the cold islands of the northern seas.  There sighed, in captivity, the beauteous Mary of Scotland, victim of the heretic Elizabeth.  His susceptibility to the charms of beauty—­a characteristic as celebrated as his courage—­was excited, his chivalry aroused.  What holier triumph for the conqueror of the Saracens than the subjugation of these northern infidels?  He would dethrone the proud Elizabeth; he would liberate and espouse the Queen of Scots, and together they would reign over, the two united realms.  All that the Pope could do with bulls and blessings, letters of excommunication, and patents of investiture, he did with his whole heart.  Don John was at liberty to be King of England and Scotland as soon as he liked; all that was left to do was to conquer the kingdoms.