The Rosary Has Changed History, and It Can Happen Again
Salve, Regina, mater misericordiae; Vita, dulcedo et spes nostra salve.
It was night. Throughout the Italian peninsula the monks, friars and nuns were kneeling in the monasteries, friaries, convents and abbeys in which they’d lived. They were surrounded by candles emitting circles of light which looked much like the haloes they’d seen in countless images of the saints and angels in Heaven.
“Hail Mary, full of grace,” they said in chorus, as their fingers rhythmically gripped onto the next bead of the rosaries in their hands, “the Lord is with thee.”
His Holiness, Pope Pius V, had urged Europe’s faithful to pray the Rosary.
Yonder east, in the Ionian Sea, on this very night, and at this very hour, Don Juan of Austria was kneeling on the deck of the fleet’s flagship. He was the commander of the Holy League. The relic of the True Cross, given to him by the Holy Father, hung around his neck. The soldiers and sailors aboard the Real were kneeling along with him, holding rosaries they were given, praying in chorus: “Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”
The men aboard each and every vessel of the Holy League were praying the Rosary this very hour. A great battle was looming on this night of Oct. 6, 1571.
Weeks, and months, of preparation had been made for battle. The 212 ships of the Holy League had been examined, and battle plans had been drawn before they departed from Messina the previous week. Don Juan would give yet another order later on that very night: to cut off the spars in the galleys’ prows so that they wouldn’t hinder the cannons at front.
The convicted criminals who’d been conscripted to row the galleys had been motivated by the prospect of their freedom.
