Nun’ Alvarez, not yet as old as Napoleon when he conquered Italy, crossed the Guadiana with a few hundred horse and a few thousand foot and advanced into Castille. All the nobles from the south of Spain who had not been present at Aljubarrota collected to give him battle. The enemy, he was told, were as the grass of the field in number. “All the greater will be our honour,” said Nun’ Alvarez.
A trumpeter with a bundle of rods knelt before Nun’ Alvarez seated to receive him: “My Lord Constable, the Master of Santiago, my lord, sends to defy you with this rod,” and the Master of Calatrava, the Master of Alcantara, the Count of Medina Celi and many another had sent him rods of defiance. The Constable received them one by one patiently, gave the messenger a hundred gold pieces and bade him thank the senders for the rods with which he would presently come and beat them.
The battle of Valverde that followed was an attack of several hills from which the enemy had to be dislodged. “If Portuguese kneel in battle,” said a later, sixteenth-century historian, “it is to the Cross of Christ”; and certainly it was from no fear or weakness that Nun’ Alvarez, wounded by an arrow in the foot, knelt to pray in the thickest of the fight. Anxious messengers came up with news that his men were hard pressed, imploring his presence, but he, without answering, still knelt in prayer. At last rising with a look of great joy he ordered on his standard to the attack, and a few hours later no Spaniard was to be seen.
It was in memory of this battle that the Constable built the Church and Convent of Carmo, still in its ruins one of the most beautiful of Lisbon’s buildings. This was the last of his great battles, although he saw much more fighting (for peace with Castille did not come for many years), and when fifty-five years old took part in the expedition that conquered Ceuta.
But his abiding fame was won when he was twenty-five. His success was due to his singleness of purpose. The independence of Portugal was his object, and to secure that object he put forth his whole strength not only ungrudgingly, but with a passionate eagerness, his strength based on deep piety and faith. A keen judge of men, he was terrible in his calm disdain to those whom he suspected of shirking or treachery; without a word of abuse on his part he made their humiliation unbearable. But he inspired his followers with extraordinary devotion. His clear, piercing eyes and his self-possession gave them confidence—des yeux pleins de mitraille et un air de tranquillité—and he was always generous in rewarding constancy and valour. His energy, fearless courage and fervent serenity won many a fight against overpowering odds.
His fame extended throughout Spain. One evening near Caceres ten henchmen appeared before him. The Count received them kindly, and on hearing that they were from Castille asked how they were so bold as to come without safe-conduct. Relying on his great goodness, they said. He then asked what he could do for them, and they announced that their only object in coming was to see him, and now they had seen him; and so, refusing the supper he ordered for them, they departed as they had come.
Many incidents show his power over his own men. Once, when they were unwilling to go forward to attack a superior force, he just stepped across a stream and bade those who were willing to follow him cross it, and not one held back.
On another occasion an uproar arose in his camp owing to the fact that the day’s booty had consisted of “many and good wines.” The Constable came unarmed from his tent, but many soldiers, seeing him thus and hearing the noise, rushed forward to protect him and formed a canopy of swords over his head.
The irregular pay and supplies received for his men made it difficult to maintain strict discipline; for some days they lived entirely on figs, then as now one of the principal fruits south of the Tagus; for one whole day Nun’ Alvarez’ own food consisted merely of a piece of dry bread, a turnip, and a drink of wine from the flask of a common soldier. Another time there was no bread in the whole camp except five small loaves reserved for Nun’ Alvarez’ table; five starving Englishmen came up, and he entertained them to dinner, giving each a loaf of bread.
It was impossible in such circumstances to forbid or prevent plunder when it was obtainable. But, although he was obliged to allow his followers to live on the land, he set his face against any unnecessary pilfering, and one squire, convicted of taking a chalice from a church, he sentenced to be burnt—indeed, the wood was piled and the fire lit before he pardoned him at the instance of his captains.