CHAPTER XIX
During this time the diabolical craftiness of Antonio Pérez had again stirred into a flame Philip's slumbering suspicions of his brother. Absolute master of the King's confidence, and also master of that which he had treacherously obtained by pretending to favour the interests of D. John and Escovedo, it was easy for this past master of perfidy and intrigue to tangle the skein. The unfortunate troubles in Flanders had put an end to the English scheme; and Philip's tenacity in following the policy of peace when only that of war was possible helped Antonio Pérez very much. D. John and Escovedo often wrote to him, as faithful friends pursuing the same end, telling him of their plans and their fears, grumbling to him, and begging for his powerful support with the King. For his part Antonio Pérez took the echo of all this to D. Philip, but not as it was, sincere and frank, always loyal and noble, if sometimes violent, but changed in its meaning, exaggerated, its text even altered when deciphered by Fernando de Escobar, a creature of Antonio Pérez. He answered them, in agreement with Philip, trying to maintain their confidence, and his hypocrisy went the length of letting disrespectful words against the Monarch slip into his letters, in the hope that seeing these they would imitate his example, which he never succeeded in making them do.
Sending one of these insidious letters for D. John to the deceived Sovereign for his approval, Antonio Pérez wrote:
"Sir, It is necessary to hear and write in this manner for your service, because thus they fall into the net, and one is better able to judge what course to take on behalf of your Majesty. And I would ask your Majesty to be careful not to be overlooked when reading these documents, as if my artifice were discovered, I could not serve you, and should have to give up the game. For the rest, I very well know, that for my conscience and duty I amacting as I ought in this matter, and I have need of no more casuistry than I possess to know it."
The King answered Pérez on the margin of the letter: "Believe me, I am very discreet, and my casuistry agrees with yours; and not only are you doing your duty, but you would fail in doing it towards God and everyone if you acted differently, in order that I may be well enlightened of all that is necessary according to the twists and turns of the world and its affairs, which certainly frighten me."
Thus deceiving Philip II and betraying and calumniating D. John and Escovedo, Antonio Pérez made the false and subtle plot by which the hero of Lepanto lost his credit with the King, and honest Escovedo his life by a treacherous sword-thrust. Pérez, in his "Memorial," shows the threads of the plot, whose falseness Philip II found out later, and which modern history has proved by many authentic documents. That D. John had disobeyed the King by refusing to dismantle Tunis, the better to raise himself in that kingdom; that behind the King's back he had sought protection from Rome; that he put the English expedition before all the King's interests; that he exaggerated the state of affairs in Flanders, in order to get aid from Spain to use in the said expedition; that, once master of England, he contemplated invading Spain at Santander, making over the castle of Mogro to Escovedo, who had solicited its lieutenancy; that the hope of the English expedition over, he thought of going to the help of the King of France at the head of the Spanish troops; that his wish to return to Spain was only to obtain a canopy and take possession of the government; that behind the King's back he had made a league with the Guise Princes, called the "Defence of the two Crowns," going back to the idea of invading England.
All these absurd, senseless plans Antonio Pérez did not attribute entirely to D. John. As formerly he represented Juan de Soto, so now he held up Escovedo as the instigator and principal agent, and D. John as a weak prince, who, devoured by ambition and blind through his vivid imagination, allowed himself to be dragged into disloyaladventures. For this, and perhaps because he loved D. John and was frightened of him, Philip II never showed his suspicion, nor took any steps against him, and took much trouble afterwards to hide his vengeance from him; so all his wrath fell on Escovedo, and he came to look on this rough and honest mountaineer as a dangerous man, capable of every treason and every crime. It is not wonderful that Escovedo's unexpected coming to Madrid in July, 1577, which we noted in a former chapter, should have given D. Philip a great shock; writing, as usual, on the margin of the letter in which Antonio Pérez announced the arrival of Escovedo at Santander, he says, "It will be necessary to be well prepared, and to make haste to dispatch him before he kills us."
Escovedo came, furious at what he considered the incomprehensible way D. John had been left without soldiers or money; furious also at Philip's policy of peace, which he presumed to describe as overdone, writing to the King himself, and finally determined, with all his rough energy, to claim the acceptance of the bills he had negotiated in Brussels, and the payment of the 80,000 gold crowns lent to D. John by the Pope's Nuncio, that the troops might be dismissed from Flanders. This he did with such hard words and bitter reproaches, that Philip sent one of Escovedo's letters to Pérez, adding on the margin, "That you should see how he comes thirsting for blood." And shortly afterwards, lamenting over another letter from Escovedo, he wrote, "Certainly if he said to me what he writes, I do not know if I could have helped losing my temper as he does."
Photo LacostePHILIP II AS AN OLD MANPantoja de la Cruz. Prado Gallery, Madrid
Photo LacostePHILIP II AS AN OLD MANPantoja de la Cruz. Prado Gallery, Madrid
Photo LacostePHILIP II AS AN OLD MANPantoja de la Cruz. Prado Gallery, Madrid
At last the news of D. John's retirement to the castle of Namur reached the Court, and the despairing letters of the distressed Prince began to arrive, in which, with such painful urgency, he craves for the return of Escovedo. "Money, money, and more money, and Escovedo," he repeats in all his letters of this date. His anxiety to have his secretary at his side, and the same feeling which was noticed in Escovedo to return as quickly as possible to Flanders, awoke in D. Philip the suspicion that something was being plotted to continue the war there against his orders, and to favour D. John's pretensions. Antonio Pérez fanned this new fire, and henceforward Escovedo was in D. Philip's eyes a constant danger, a State criminal, who could not be sent back to Flanders, for fear lest he would carry out his work, or kept in Spain, without the risk of rousing the dreaded ire of D. John. For several days this vexed and perplexed Philip, until at last he made a resolution which Antonio Pérez himself relates in a letter to Gil de Mesa.
One day Philip called him to his room in the Escorial. It was at an inconvenient time, and the secretary hastily ran, carrying the dispatches in a large bag. The King came to the door to meet him, and took him, with much mystery, to a distant, isolated room, where the furniture, ornaments and treasures for the still unfurnished house were stored. The King ordered Pérez to shut the door and put the bag of papers on the table. The furniture was stacked at the two sides, leaving a passage in the middle, up and down which Philip began to walk, his hands behind his back, preoccupied and thoughtful. Pérez kept a respectful silence, waiting for the King to break it, which he did at last, standing in front of Pérez, and saying very slowly and in measured tones, "Antonio Pérez, I have passed many sleepless nights on account of my brother's affairs, or rather those of Juan de Escovedo and his predecessor Juan de Soto, and the point to which their plots have come, and I consider it is very necessary to take a resolution quickly, or we shall not be in time. And I can find no better remedy, in fact there is no other, than getting rid of Juan de Escovedo. Imprisoning him would result in exasperating my brother as much as killing him would. So I have determined on it, and trust this deed to no one but you, because of your well-proved fidelity and your ingenuity, as well known as your fidelity. Because you know all the plots, and I owe the discovery of them to you, yours shall be the hand to effect the cure. Speed is very necessary for the reasons you know."
As he himself affirms, the heart of Antonio Pérez leapt,and he answered the King with great devotion that he was entirely his, and that he had no more wish or movement than the hand as regards its owner. But, as his cunning forethought always saw a long way ahead, he at once realised the risk that he ran in a matter so secret and with so powerful an accomplice, if he did not have a witness in his interest to note the facts, if things were ever discovered, and to share the responsibilities in case of disagreement, so he craftily added, "But, Sir, let Y.M. permit me to speak with the presumption of love. I consider Y.M. outside this affair, although your prudence and presence of mind prevent your being incensed at the greatest crimes, I, as I might get angry at such offences against your person and crown, also have much interest in this. It will be well to bring in a third person to judge this determination, to justify it, and for the better ascertaining of the facts. This will be much to the point."
Then he saw the King come towards him, who, stopping, answered: "Antonio Pérez, if it is because you do not care to run the risk of this business that you wish for a third person, it is the same to me. To settle the matter I do not require a third person. Kings in such extreme cases have to act like King's physicians and great doctors among their inferiors with patients under their care: that in grave and urgent accidents they act on their own authority with promptitude, although in other illnesses they act with and follow the consultations of other doctors. Moreover, in these matters (believe me that what I say relates to my profession) there is more danger than security in consultations."
Antonio Pérez makes the following comment on these royal words in his letter to Gil de Mesa: "When old kings come to announcing such principles of their art, either they love much (a rare thing) or necessity opens the door of confidence (a certain fact)."
Well Antonio Pérez must have known and measured Philip's necessity when he determined to press him to interpose a third person, and even presumed to propose his friend and boon companion the Marqués de los Vélez,D. Pedro Fajardo, who was a Councillor of State and Lord Steward to the Queen Doña Ana. At last Philip consented, and authorised Antonio Pérez to consult him. The secretary had little trouble in bringing the old noble to his opinion, a despot himself, a great soldier but absolutely illiterate, who considered Pérez an oracle, and for some years had owed D. John a grudge for having usurped, as he said, the triumph over the Moors.
Pérez talked to him, and both agreed that Escovedo deserved to die as a disturber of the kingdom who was trying to make war in Flanders; that it was impossible to arrest, judge and sentence him in the ordinary way without risk of awaking the alarm of D. John and provoking fresh conflicts; but the King, as supreme arbiter of his subjects' lives, according to the precepts and practices of those times, could judge and sentence him by the secret law of his conscience, without any legal transactions, and entrust the execution of this sentence to some person in his confidence, whom he should authorise by a paper in his own writing, "and that the best and least inconvenient way would be that with some mouthful or other similar means he should get out of the trouble, and even this with the greatest care, as the Lord D. John might not suspect it was the result of the true cause and motive, but of some vengeance and private grudge."
And then the Marqués de los Vélez, with all the customary pomposity of a wind-bag, and with all the jealous rancour which he nourished, pronounced these words so often quoted by the apologists of Antonio Pérez, "That if his opinion were asked, with the Sacrament in his mouth, who was the person it was most important to take away, Juan de Escovedo or anyone else, he would vote for Juan de Escovedo."
In conformity, then, with this interview Philip II judged Escovedo and condemned him to death by the law of his conscience, and charged Antonio Pérez with the execution of the sentence, authorising him by a paper written by his own hand, in which he adds, "That although it may be realised that he has nothing to do with all that has happened, it will be well that there should be no doubt whatever about it."
CHAPTER XX
Antonio Pérez lost no time, and with the greatest secrecy began to arrange the means by which to give Escovedo "a mouthful," which would cause his death and give him time to confess, "so that he should not also lose his soul," according to Philip II's expressed wish. In the houses of the Grandees—and Antonio Pérez lived as if he were one—in those days of little security, scoundrels and ruffians were attached to the household to guard its lord, in cases of attack or defence. Because of his many plots and businesses, Antonio Pérez had several in his service, and chief among them his steward and confidential servant Diego Martinez, a wild, brave, unscrupulous man. So to Diego Martinez Pérez went and confided his intentions, asking him to obtain a poison to kill Escovedo, and a trustworthy, capable agent to administer it. Martinez proposed a certain Antonio Enriquez, one of Antonio Pérez's pages, a clever, determined man, and of the stuff assassins are made of. Diego Martinez interviewed him, and revealed the affair to him little by little, as had been arranged. He asked him first whether he knew of any bravo who was capable of dealing a blow that would bring much gain and little danger, as secret protection would be forthcoming.
Enriquez answered that he knew a muleteer capable of giving one for nothing, and with all risks if he undertook the engagement. Then Martinez revealed a little more, and said that it was an important personage, and that Antonio Pérez wished for his death. For this, answered Enriquez, a cleverer man than a muleteer is wanted, and he said no more that day.
But very early the next morning Diego Martinez entered the chamber of Enriquez, holding a glass phial, as it seemed, of clear water, and holding it up to the light, said that it contained the poison to kill a certain person, who was none other than the secretary Juan de Escovedo, whose death Antonio Pérez desired, and which was to take place at a dinner that was being prepared at the "Casilla," and it was the wish of the Lord Antonio that he, Enriquez, should administer the poison at the banquet, with all the skill and caution Pérez knew him to possess.
To this Enriquez answered roughly that if the Lord Antonio desired to make him kill a man, he should tell him so openly and by his own mouth, otherwise he would not kill anyone. Accordingly Pérez made an appointment at the "Casilla" one afternoon with Enriquez, according to the declaration of the same, and said, "As it is important that the secretary Escovedo should die, he had been instructed to give the poison the day that he was a guest, and in order to do so he must see and communicate with the said Diego Martinez, giving him his word and promise and friendship in all things. And with this declaration he was very satisfied, and communicated each day with the said Diego Martinez, about what was to be done." The arrangements for striking the blow were the following. The dining-rooms at the "Casilla," as we said while describing the celebrated villa, were on the ground-floor, on the right hand of the door, and the first was a square room with two cupboards, one for plate, the other for the cups, in which, according to the custom of those times, beverages were served. Next was a passage room, with much rich Cordova leather, which led into the dining-room itself. It was agreed that Antonio Enriquez should serve Escovedo with wine when he asked for it. Diego Martinez was to hide in the passage room, with the poisoned water all ready, and as Enriquez passed carrying Escovedo's full cup, Martinez was to throw in quickly and secretly enough poison to fill a nutshell, which was the prescribed quantity.
This plan was carried out, and twice during the dinner Antonio Enriquez administered the poisoned drink toEscovedo. There were eight guests that day, all great and important personages, some of them officers of the Court. Antonio Pérez sat next to Escovedo, watching the coming and going of the page Enriquez, when he served his confiding victim with wine, even to the number of cupfuls the latter drank. But this man made of stone did not watch these sinister movements with the unrest and trepidation usual in a criminal, or with the anticipation of remorse at seeing the dagger sharpened which is to be plunged into the breast of a friend; but seemingly calm, quiet, merry, and joking with his victim, and keeping up animation among his guests with that charm, wit, and eloquence and gaiety which made the wicked secretary so attractive and delightful. At last the horrible feast came to an end, and they rose from the table to begin to play, all except Escovedo, who, saying that he had important business, at once returned to Madrid. He rode on a mule with no other escort than a groom on foot, and he leant over the mule's neck like a man either very ill or very much preoccupied. Pérez thought that the poison was already taking effect, and, full of impatience, Antonio Enriquez says in his declaration, "he made an excuse and joined the witness and his steward in one of the chambers near the courtyard, where he learnt the amount of water that had been given to the secretary Escovedo, and then went back to play."
The next morning Diego Martinez went as if by chance to prowl about the lane of St. Mary, where Escovedo lived in a house which he had bought from the Prince de Évoli, in proximity to whose dwelling it was. It was called "of the lions" from two at the door. The steward waited for some sign of alarm or unusual movement in the house, to manifest the grave illness, at least, which he anticipated for Escovedo by this time. The most absolute calm, however, reigned in the street and house. In the wide, dark, paved courtyard Escovedo's mule was being cleaned by the groom; a servant was hanging a child's white clothes out of a window, and at the bend of the narrow lane three men, with great labour,were putting two casks through the narrow grating of the cellar. The spy drew nearer stealthily, and saw with surprise and terror that at the bottom of the cellar Escovedo himself, in doublet and breeches, and his son Pedro, were assisting by their orders, and even by their efforts, the difficult passage of the casks. There was no doubt that the poison had not taken effect, either because the patient was too strong or the dose too light.
The failure of this, his first attempt, annoyed Pérez very much; but he was not the least discouraged, because men like him, cold, artful and wicked, never are. He at once began to think of another ambush to which to attract his victim, and this was another dinner, this time at his house in Madrid, that of the Conde de Puñonrostro, behind the church of St. Justin. He had furnished this historical house with a luxury and magnificence much greater even than the vaunted "Casilla," and the parties given there had something courtly and serious about them, very different from the country jaunts and merry suppers of the other. The wife of Pérez, Doña Juana de Coello, who always presided over them, gave the parties this character; she was a highly gifted lady, whose heroic conjugal affection has passed into history. At the dinner, where a second attempt on the life of Escovedo was made, Doña Juana was present, and besides Antonio Pérez and Escovedo there were five guests, of whom two were ecclesiastics. In the declaration of the page Antonio Enriquez, he relates how the poisoning was carried out this time. He says that some porringers were served full of either cream or milk, he did not remember which. There was a porringer for each guest, and they were placed before using them in a row in a great cupboard. Diego Martinez came and threw some white powder like flour into one of the porringers. He told Enriquez to give this one to Escovedo, as it contained the poison, and not to get it mixed with the others, making him hold it, while the other pages came to fetch the rest. They all entered the dining-room together to serve the porringers, and Enriquez placed the poisoned one in front of Escovedo. Antonio Pérez, who knew wherethe poison was, never took his eyes off it. Moreover, Antonio Enriquez relates that he himself several times served Escovedo at this dinner with wine mixed with the poisoned water which had been used before.
The violent and terrible effects of the poison this time did not delay in showing themselves. That same night Escovedo was seized with sharp internal pain, sickness, and putrid fever which for many days kept him between life and death. The doctors saved him without suspecting poison, and Escovedo began to get steadily better. Antonio Pérez watched all the symptoms of the illness, and seeing that his wounded quarry was again escaping him, once more let his pack of furious hounds loose on the unlucky victim, that the crime should be perpetrated in his own honoured home.
At that time there was a scullion, "racals," as they were called, in the King's kitchen, Juan Rubio by name. He was the son of the agent of the estate of the Prince de Mélito (father of the Princess de Évoli), who having killed a priest in Cuenca, had fled to Madrid, and taken refuge in the royal kitchens, where, disguised as a scullion, he was unrecognised. Juan Rubio was a friend of Escovedo's cook, from seeing him each day at the market, and also of Antonio Enriquez, by the mysterious sympathy which always unites villains. By this simple means Enriquez learnt about Escovedo's kitchen, and knew that during his convalescence a special stew was prepared for him, but from the caprice of an invalid inspired by certain fancies this stew was not prepared by the cook, but by an old female slave there was in the house, who was a great adept at making mince and other simple dishes.
Antonio Pérez took advantage of all these circumstances, and ordered his followers to deal a third blow, which would destroy the life which defended itself so tenaciously. So Antonio Enriquez spoke to the scullion Juan Rubio, and with flattering promises, based on the credit of Antonio Pérez, decided Rubio to force his way by some excuse into the kitchen of Escovedo, and throw the poison into the stew which was daily prepared for him.Enriquez gave him the poison, a white powder of a different kind from that used before. The task was not so easy as the two ruffians thought it would be, because the slave never left her fire while she was cooking the stew, and the cook was always coming to the oven. Three times Juan Rubio went in vain to the kitchen, but the fourth time he achieved his object. Early one morning he watched for the cook to go out, and then went in on an excuse of bringing some live rabbits from the Prado. The slave was by the fire-place, having just put on the stew. Juan Rubio gave her the rabbits, and as they were alive and tried to escape, the poor old woman went to shut them up in a kind of cage there was in the yard hard by. Then Juan Rubio lifted the cover of the pot and threw in the thimbleful of the white powder, which was the quantity ordered by Enriquez.
At eleven o'clock Escovedo's wife and his son Pedro, who nursed him tenderly, gave him his meal; but on tasting the first mouthful the secretary pushed the porringer from him, saying that it tasted of broom juice. The poison, no doubt decomposed by the action of the fire, gave an unbearably bitter taste to the dish, on which the poisoners had not reckoned. Everyone was amazed. They made a search, and hunting carefully through the stew at the bottom, they came on unmistakable signs of poison.
Suspicion at once fell on the unlucky slave, who in vain protested her innocence. She was taken and loaded with chains and tortured, confessing in her weakness the crime she had not committed. She afterwards retracted this confession, torn from her in her pain; but it was too late, and she was condemned to be hanged, and the sentence was carried out a few days later in the public square.
CHAPTER XXI
At the same time that Escovedo was escaping so wonderfully from these three attempts on his life, tidings arrived at Madrid, which had been always feared and expected, and which came to change entirely Philip II's plans and policy. War, more cruel and gory than ever, had broken out in Flanders, provoked by the rebels. D. John, having received a handful of money to animate his German troops, and joining them to some Spanish soldiers who had returned to France, and who, knowing his danger, spontaneously flew to his aid, at Gembleux gloriously picked up the glove that the rebels threw down, and gained over them that marvellous victory which placed his personal courage in as much relief as it did his talent as a leader, his prophetic political sagacity, and his real faith as a Christian. "With this sign I vanquished the Turks; with this sign I will vanquish the heretics," he had written round the cross on his standard; and to his friends D. Diego de Mendoza and the Conde de Orgaz he communicated the great news that his losses only consisted of four killed and fifteen wounded, the enemy having been 5000, adding humbly, "God did it, and His only was the day, at a time, when if it had not been done, we should have died of hunger, surrounded by a hundred thousand other dangers."
The Baron de Willy, dispatched by D. John after the battle which was fought on the 31st of January, 1578, brought the news to Philip. He also informed him of the dreadful state of unrest in these provinces, all in open rebellion, where religion was not respected, nor the King obeyed, nor any Catholic law venerated. The fortresses gave their troops, the cities, towns and even the miserablevillages armed their militia, and all joined in pursuing D. John, then deprived of all aid, surrounding him, pressing him, destroying and overthrowing at the same time the strong leader and the hated Spanish yoke. The victory of Gembleux, gained by D. John, made them retire and widen the circle, like cowardly hounds who see the lion they imagined done for suddenly rise, with bristling mane and outstretched claws. Many of them never stopped until they reached Brussels, and from there some fled to Antwerp, where they imagined themselves safe. But, once they had recovered from their surprise and fright, and knew that there was abundance of nothing except valour in D. John's camp, they would return to reunite, and once again narrow the circle, advancing slowly and with great caution, until at last they would fall on D. John and annihilate him by their numbers, if the help asked for in his letters were not sent. In these letters, which the Baron de Willy gave to Philip, D. John paints a vivid picture of his situation, and asks more urgently than ever for soldiers and plenty of money. He also begs that his secretary Escovedo may be sent, in the utmost good faith and ignorance of what was happening, recommending him warmly to his brother D. Philip for certain favours, which D. John averred he very well deserved.
All these facts and circumstances brought two things, distinct but much connected with each other, to the knowledge of Philip; one, that it was high time to give up his exaggerated peace policy in Flanders and take refuge in that of force, as his brother had been urging him for months. The other, that once the war had been lighted in Flanders by the rebels the danger of Escovedo doing so had ceased, and consequently also the political reason which made Philip condemn him to death. It was hard for Philip to make practical use of these two convictions, because by the first he had to retract an opinion he had held long and tenaciously; and by the second he had to smother grudges, dislikes and petty spites, which, united, made up what he, wrongly but sincerely, conceived to be political reasons, and which had undeniably influenced him insentencing Escovedo to death. But the iron will of the prudent King knew how to drown personal feelings, and hide at any rate dislikes and spites, and frankly and definitely to enter on another course. So he wrote to D. John by the Baron de Willy: "If before he had been tardy in not making war on the rebels, to give them time to quiet themselves, as his clemency had done nothing but irritate them, he desired to sustain his authority by arms, and in order that it could be done in his name, he sent 900,000 crowns, offering to provide in future 200,000 each month, with which D. John was to maintain an army of 30,000 infantry and 6500 horse, without any prejudice to everything he thinks should be granted."
He also sent a fresh edict, which he ordered to be published, in which, after enumerating the offences of the rebels against God and his authority, he ordered them all to obey D. John, as his lieutenant; that the deputies were no longer to sit, and that they were to return to their provinces until they were legally convoked. He annulled everything decreed by them, forbidding the Council of State and the Treasury to act so long as they did not obey his Governor-General, and ordering that all Royal Patrimony that had been usurped should be given up. At the same time he ordered the Field-Marshal D. Lope de Figueroa, with 4000 veterans who were with him, to go to D. John's camp, where Alexander Farnese already was with a part of the Spanish troops. The Duque de Fernandina and D. Alfonso de Leiva were also to go with several companies of Spaniards, also Gabrio Cervelloni, now ransomed by the Pope from the hands of the Turks, with 2000 Italians he had raised in Milan.
Everything thus arranged about the war, the King wrote regarding Escovedo, on the 8th of March, 1578, these conclusive words: "I will be careful to order the secretary Escovedo to be dispatched shortly, and as to the rest of what you write about him, as to this and as to what he deserves, I will remember that it is right in its particulars." This very important letter is in the archives of Simancas, and proves that at that time (March 8)Philip had already retracted Escovedo's sentence of death and had ordered Antonio Pérez to hasten his departure for Flanders, as on the 12th of the same month the King answers on the margin of one of Pérez's own letters, "and do not forget what I wrote to you to hasten with the Verdinegro (Escovedo), who knows much and will not understand."
And yet, twenty-two days later, on the 31st of March, which that year was Easter Monday, Juan de Escovedo was treacherously murdered in the lane of St. Mary. He was found run through in the street, between the wall of the church and the house of the Princess de Évoli. He had a sword-thrust in the back, and had fallen on his face, still wrapped in his cloak, which the suddenness of the blow, no doubt, did not give him time to undo.
What had happened in this short space of time? Had Philip again signed Escovedo's death warrant, or had some treacherous hand interposed to effect the retracted sentence against the will of the Monarch? An event had taken place in those days which gives the key to the mystery. This fact was shown plainly at the trial of Antonio Pérez, eleven years later, and was attested by Andres de Morgado, brother to Rodrigo de Morgado, equerry and confidential friend and go-between to the Princess de Évoli and Antonio Pérez. In Pérez's letter to Philip of the 12th of March, which we have just quoted, he says that at that time Escovedo had not yet quite recovered. "The man Verdinegro," it says, "is still weak, and will never get up." However, he rose soon, in spite of Antonio Pérez's kind wish, and a few days later, about the end of March, he went to visit the Princess de Évoli, according to Morgado's declaration. Perhaps he went to take leave, before starting for Flanders; perhaps to thank her for the hypocritical attentions she and Antonio Pérez had shown him during his illness and convalescence. The details of this visit, as given by Antonio de Morgado, cannot be written. Enough to say that Escovedo surprised the Princess and Pérez in circumstances so indecorous and suggestive, that, blind with rage and woundedto the quick in his love and respect for the memory of Ruy Gómez, he broke out into invectives against the pair, and threatened to disclose all to the King. Pérez, ashamed, crept silently from the room, but the Princess, irritated in her pride as a great lady and her passion as a bad woman, faced Escovedo, and answered him by saying things about the King, which could figure in a trial where indecency was in its element, but cannot be read elsewhere without the blush of shame mounting to the forehead.
The Princess herself was afraid of what she had done, and late that night sought Antonio Pérez at his house, where she went secretly with a duenna and two of her bravos as escort, and together these two guilty ones, terrified lest Escovedo should fulfil his threat, settled to get him out of the way, and planned how this was to be done. Then Pérez showed the Princess the writing signed by Philip II, which authorised him to kill Escovedo, and both decided to use this, given for State reasons and afterwards retracted, to cover and make secure the secret of their illicit amours.
We shall see how the crime was carried out.
CHAPTER XXII
After his second failure Antonio Pérez lost faith in being able to kill Escovedo by poison, and with horrible premeditation had entrusted assassins to do the deed by sword or shot, if the third attempt that he was planning also miscarried. He entrusted this to his two former accomplices, the steward Diego Martinez and the page Antonio Enriquez. Martinez summoned from Aragon two merciless men whom he could trust and who were skilled in this kind of adventure; one was Juan de Mesa, uncle of the Gil de Mesa, who, when Antonio Pérez fled to Aragon, figured so much as his ally; the other a certain Insausti, a typical Italian bravo of that time, with his quarrelsome air, his formidable sword, and his matted locks which fell over his ears and head, and could be made to cover his face like a mask, so that he should not be recognised in his exploits. For his part Antonio Enriquez recruited at once in Madrid the scullion from the royal kitchen, Juan Rubio, already an accomplice, and began to treat with his own half-brother, Miguel Bosque, who was in Murcia. Enriquez went there to fetch him, and persuaded him at last by the promise of a hundred golden crowns and the protection of Antonio Pérez. The two brothers reached Madrid the day on which Escovedo's innocent slave was hanged in the public square.
When all were in Madrid they hid from each other, each in his hole, like reptiles that dreaded the sunlight, waiting until the hour for the crime had struck. Escovedo, then recovering from the third attempt to poison him, did not yet go out. But very soon Diego Martinez made an assignation with his gang, at a lonely tile kiln, which was about half a league from Madrid, outside the gateof Guadalajara. He told them that the Lord Antonio had gone to Alcalá to spend Holy Week, and had left orders to make an end of Escovedo before his return, or that of the King from the Escorial, which were to coincide. Time therefore pressed, and Diego Martinez hastened to trace out a plan of campaign. He decided that Insausti should deal the blow, as being the best hand at sword-thrusts in Aragon, and for the purpose Martinez gave him a very good sword with a wide blade, grooved to the point. To the rest he distributed daggers and pistols, if they lacked them, but most of them carried them hidden in their breeches, according to the practice of ill-doers of the time. It was also agreed that from that afternoon they should meet in the square of Santiago as a centre of operations, and from there divide into distinct groups; one, composed of Insausti, Miguel Bosque and the scullion Juan Rubio should watch the comings and goings of Escovedo in the lane of St. Mary, where he lived, and take advantage of the first opportunity of giving him a thrust; the other three, Juan de Mesa, Antonio Enriquez and Diego Martinez, were to follow them at a distance to help if necessary, at any rate to assist their flight.
In that out-of-the-way corner, which even to-day faces the Royal Palace silent and solitary as an island in the unquiet sea of Madrid, then lived the nobles, personages of the Court, Grandees and gentlemen who held appointments in it, and all the life of those days flowed through its narrow, steep lanes. So it is not extraordinary that nobody noticed these birds of ill-omen who haunted the lane of St. Mary. At last, on the 31st of March, that year Easter Monday, the much-sought opportunity presented itself. At nightfall Escovedo went down the street called Mayor, towards the gate de la Vega, on his way home. He was alone, as usual, without page or servant. By his slow, unsteady gait it could be known that he was still weak from his illness, and as it was cold, he protected himself from the air by the muffler of his black cloak. Behind him, at a considerable distance, came the three assassins Insausti, Miguel Bosque and Juan Rubio, also muffled upin their cloaks, sauntering along, but not losing a movement of their desired victim. When Escovedo arrived at the lane of St. Mary, he stopped a moment, as if to get his breath, and then began to mount the steep slope to his house. The assassins also pulled up, and after a few hurried words, separated, Juan Rubio going stealthily to the corner of the lane, then formed by the great house of the Cuevas, and there stopping to cut off Escovedo's retreat. Insausti and Miguel Bosque went hastily by what is to-day the street of the Factor, which formed the other corner of the Cuevas' house, in order to enter the lane of St. Mary by the other end, and meet Escovedo face to face. He was impeded not only by his weakness, but also by the shades of night, which were rapidly gaining possession of the dark lane, and also by the inequality of the ground, which, as in all streets of the period, was full of stones and deep holes caused by the throwing out of water; so the unfortunate secretary walked very slowly, keeping close to the wall of the church, and gave more than enough time for the villains to get round and meet him in front of the house of the Princess de Évoli, which was just at the back of the Cueva one. Insausti had an unsheathed sword under his cloak and a pistol in his left hand. Miguel Bosque had a dagger ready and another pistol. They passed Escovedo, almost brushing against him without attracting his attention, as he took them for peaceable passers-by. But all at once, turning round, Insausti rapidly and silently cast himself on Escovedo, and ran him through the back with a mighty thrust. Escovedo fell forward without a cry, without an exclamation, only giving a hoarse groan. The assassin leant over him for a moment to see if a second blow was necessary, and then at once ran away. Miguel Bosque went up the lane to get into the Castle Square, Insausti by the Street Mayor, dragging Rubio with him in his flight, and Diego Martinez, who was a long way off.
Antonio Enriquez ends this declaration by saying: "The death-blow was given on Easter Monday, the 31st of March. Juan de Mesa and I arrived in the square of Santiago later than usual; so that the others had leftto lie in wait for the secretary Escovedo to pass. Juan de Mesa and I wandered round about, and here we heard the rumour that Escovedo had been killed. Then we went secretly to our houses, and on entering mine I met Miguel Bosque, wearing a jacket, because in running he had lost his cloak and pistol. Juan de Mesa met Insausti at his door, also without a cloak, because he had lost it in his flight, and he took him in to hide him, and together they threw the sword which killed Escovedo into a well in the yard; the sword was long and grooved to the point. That same night Juan Rubio went to Alcalá on a mule which the priest Fernando de Escobar gave him, to tell Antonio Pérez that all was over, and he asked if anyone was taken, and hearing that no one had been he was very pleased."
The assassination of such a well-known personage as Escovedo in the midst of the streets at Madrid upset all the neighbourhood, and set all the mayors and "alguaciles" in the city to work. The next day, which was the 1st of April, they arrested everyone who tried to leave the gates, and the next day forced all the inn and hotel-keepers to furnish a detailed list of their inmates. Antonio Pérez ordered the assassins to remain quiet in their hiding-places, and not to make any noise so long as the first hot search was being made, and until he could find means of placing them in safety. He succeeded at last, after a long period of uneasy waiting, and on the 19th of April they all left Madrid, largely rewarded. Miguel Bosque received a hundred golden crowns from the hands of the priest Escobar, and then returned to his native place. Juan de Mesa went back to Aragon, carrying a gold chain, fifty doubloons, a beautiful silver cup, and the appointment of agent for the property of the Princess de Évoli, which she herself gave him. To Insausti, Juan Rubio, and Antonio Enriquez Antonio Pérez sent by Diego Martinez the appointment of ensign, with twenty golden crowns of pay, and without demur they went to their respective posts, Juan Rubio to Milan, Antonio Enriquez to Naples, and Insausti to Sicily, where he died shortly afterwards.
CHAPTER XXIII
Meanwhile D. John of Austria was not losing time, and heartened by the first help that Philip II sent, set about to gain all the results possible from the victory of Gembleux. Since this defeat the rebels had fallen back towards Brussels, fearful lest D. John was going there, and he, leaving them in this belief, continued his plan of campaign with clever strategy, and in little more than a month became master of Louvain, Bouvignes, Tilemont, Sichem, Diest, Nivelles and Philippeville. There he stopped, tired out by this hard work, in which fell on him not only the anxieties of a general, but the duties of a soldier, and there, too, he received the news of Escovedo's death. This was the finishing stroke for D. John. It is not known when or through whom the information came to him; but the fatal news must have come quickly, as already on the 20th of April he wrote a beautiful letter to Philip, true transcript of his noble, generous and Christian soul[17].
A little later, while at Namur, he writes on the 3rd of May to his friend D. Rodrigo de Mendoza: "Of the little I shall say in this, the first thing shall be how grieved I am at the death of Escovedo, the more that they do not find out from whence comes such an ill deed; because certainly, besides how greatly he was needed for H.M.'s service in what he was looking after, I also wanted him infinitely, and I have lost a great support, and even more so, I think, in the future. May God rest him in heaven, and reveal to me who killed him."
And further, he wrote to Gian Andrea Doria on the 7th of June: "Of Escovedo's unhappy death I do not know what to say, particularly from such a distance, even if I could say anything were I nearer; but in my opinion it is a case which asks for prompt action more than words: but so many suspicions and no certainty stop one's mouth and tie one's hands, so at present one can only wait and feelwhat one must about such a servant and a case like this death of Escovedo."
These are all D. John's papers about Escovedo's death which have come down to us. Though nothing in these letters shows clearly that he had sounded all the depths of iniquity hidden behind the treacherous crime, it is impossible to think to the contrary. From the first moment public opinion in Madrid pointed at Antonio Pérez and the Princesa de Évoli as authors of the murder, and even, it is said, came near to the truth; a fact to be remembered, as those who wrote nearest the event, Van der Hammen and Cabrera de Córdoba, mention "that to authorise the assassination, Antonio Pérez gave the assassins a writing signed by the King, of the sort that are given blank to ambassadors and viceroys to shorten some business." The declaration of Antonio Enriquez at the famous trial eleven years later proves that these rumours reached beyond Spain. "Antonio Enriquez said that in Italy and Flanders it was openly said that Antonio Pérez killed Escovedo because of the Princesa de Évoli." It is impossible that these rumours should not have reached the ears of D. John, or that, with his shrewdness, he should not have put two and two together, the truth proved to him by the old story of their intrigue. One fact makes it patent that if D. John knew nothing for certain, he had at least very strong suspicions that Antonio Pérez was the murderer of Escovedo. From this time the intimate correspondence which he kept up with the false secretary abruptly ceases, and he only replies to the honeyed, flattering letters by stiff and official dispatches such as could not be avoided between the Governor-General and the Secretary for Flanders. And further, we think D. John must then have known, at any rate in part, of the treason and calumnies of Pérez and the absolute ruin of his credit with D. Philip effected by these means; which accounts for the depression, despondency, and presentiment of death that overwhelmed the hero of Lepanto at this time, never to leave him during his remaining months of life.
CHAPTER XXIV
Some people censure as fantastic the scheme of invading England which the two Pontiffs Pius V and Gregory XIII were always planning, and D. John as a dreamer, for placing in this project all his aspirations and ardent desires for glory. But Lord Burghley judged otherwise. He was an immoral politician, certainly, but the most far-seeing and profound that England then possessed. In a memorandum all in his own handwriting, which exists in the British Museum in London, and from which Mignet quotes, he advises Queen Elizabeth to send prompt aid to the Flemish rebels. "If the Spaniards succeed in subduing the Low Countries, they will lose no opportunity of invading England, and will unite their forces with the malcontents of this kingdom; thus, if D. John finishes with the States, he will not tarry in turning his arms against Y.M. The correspondence which is carried on between him and the Queen of Scots since he arrived in the Low Countries, his interview with the Bishop of Glasgow, the ambassador of this Queen, and the general opinion that there is a plan of marriage between him and her, are the reasons which make for this conclusion. According to those who desire a change of religion in this kingdom, this marriage is the best and only means for the return of the kingdom to the Church of Rome. By this marriage D. John would have a claim to the crown of England, and then it would be seen that the Pope, the King of France, and the King of Spain, and all the Catholic Princes would help him; the Pope from religious motives, the King of France to please the house of Guise and to prevent England helping the French Protestants, and the King of Spain to settle his brotheradvantageously. Therefore, to give aid to the Low Countries is a means of preservation and defence for this realm."
These grave reasons, which did not seem fantastic to Burghley, decided Queen Elizabeth and the lords of her Council to help the Flemish rebels even more openly than they had hitherto done, not only with money, but also with English and Scotch troops, under the command of Norris. But they soon saw that the real obstacle to these ends was the person of D. John, and that nothing and nobody could dismay him or weary out his patience, or overcome his military skill, and they judged, as Orange had done before the retreat from Namur, that the shortest and safest way to conquer this obstacle was to overthrow it by treachery, taking D. John's life. One warning voice, however, God sent from a prison, and it reached the ears of D. John, and stopped this new crime.
There was a Spanish merchant in London, a native of Tarragona, called Antonio de Guaras, rich and respected. He lived in a house belonging to the Guild of Drapers, with a warehouse and wharf on the Thames, and many pedlars came there to fit themselves out with things that they afterwards sold retail, travelling about the counties. But in these humble pedlars' boats which slowly mounted the Thames, most important secrets and messages from great personages came to the house of Antonio de Guaras. The merchant was an Aragonese, and an agent of the Court of Spain since the time of Henry VIII, and since the arrival of D. John in Flanders he had constituted himself the most active promoter of the Spanish invasion of England, and the intermediary between D. John and the Queen Mary Stuart, at that time a prisoner in Sheffield Castle. D. John sent his letters for the Queen of Scots to Guaras, and she also sent him the answers; a very interesting correspondence, of which no trace remains.
Under the disguise of one of these hucksters the English Jesuit Hort, whom Gregory XIII had sent to England, together with his Scotch companion Crichton, to be Papal agent in the business of the Spanish invasion, came one day to the house of Antonio de Guaras. He came fromSheffield, and brought a letter in cipher from Mary Stuart for Antonio de Guaras. He carried it cleverly hidden in a little mirror, which in these perilous times he always had among his pedlar's wares. In this letter the Queen of Scots ordered Antonio de Guaras to tell D. John of the plot that the Council of Queen Elizabeth were scheming against his life, rumours of which reached Sheffield by one of the many advocates of the marriage of Mary and D. John, who were numerous, and were working in England and Scotland. The news was vague, however, as she only talked of this plot without giving any details, and contented herself by warning D. John to have a care for his person. "It seems to me that the Lord Don John should be very careful that he has not near him some greater spies than faithful servants, English or others."
Guaras, alarmed, hastened to communicate this warning to D. Bernardino de Mendoza, then ambassador of the Catholic King in London, and a great partisan of Mary Stuart, who, having more means of action and of espionage, at last succeeded in unravelling the mystery, as far as was necessary, and could thus write to Philip II on the 17th of May: "Here for many days there is talk in the house of Leicester of killing H.H. (D. John), the talk being renewed by the good opportunity of the war. Of this I have advised H.H., and also that this Queen on the 10th set free Edmond Ratcliffe, brother of the Earl of Sussex, who has been confined in the Tower of London for three years, and because of giving him liberty very secretly he has been exiled from this kingdom, which is a thing very seldom or never done, he resolved the moment he regained his liberty to go and serve H.H.; I have been advised that he is an intemperate youth, and daring enough for anything, they tell me, so his sudden liberation and determination can with great reason engender suspicion."
D. Bernardino did, as he notifies in this letter, write to D. John, and also sent him a portrait of Ratcliffe, that he should recognise him and be prepared at once if he came. The assassin did not fail to arrive. D. John was in his camp at Tirlemont, and when giving audiences one day,suddenly saw Edmond Ratcliffe enter his tent, humbly begging the favour of a hearing. He had entered the camp, in spite of the vigilance of the sentries, and had hidden two light Hungarian horses in a wood near to ensure his flight, in the event of his being able to strike the blow. D. John knew him in a moment, from the picture D. Bernardino had sent, and without displaying the least surprise or mistrust, graciously ordered him to speak. At the same time he called his valet Bernardino Ducarte in the most natural manner, and secretly gave him an order for the Captain of the Guard to take the gentleman, whenever he left the tent, and give him over to the Provost-General of the camp. Ratcliffe explained to D. John, with the most refined hypocrisy, who he was and what he wanted. He said that he was a son of the old Earl of Sussex and a Catholic, but having disagreed with his eldest brother on religious questions, and wishing to assure living and dying in the Roman faith, he had fled from England to offer his services to the Catholic King, and only begged D. John for a post in the army, and pay according to his grade, as he had a wife and little children to keep. And as he spoke the miscreant was waiting and calculating where to give the wound.
D. John listened to him, looking him up and down, and not losing a single one of his movements, at last answering him affably, praising his religious faith and his ideas, and promising, in the name of the King, to help him to fulfil them. While this conversation was being carried on the two walked slowly about in the tent, and Ratcliffe tried to arrange that the walk should be prolonged outside, as was D. John's custom when finishing audiences, in order that, amused by the talk, he should go on a few steps. His intention was then to plunge a poisoned dagger, which he had ready, in D. John's heart, leave the weapon in the wound, and hurry off to the wood, where his horses were waiting. But D. John, as if he liked to sport with danger, went to the door, took a step or two outside, and then returned to the end of the tent, until, intimating that the audience was over, he took leave of Ratcliffe untilthe next day, "when he would seek employment for him." Ratcliffe retired, promising himself to do on the second visit what he had failed to do on the first; but hardly had he set foot outside the tent than D. John's Captain of the Guard arrested him, and handed him over to the Provost. Ratcliffe protested his innocence at first, but being put to the torture he confessed fully all we have told. He was not executed during the lifetime of D. John, but after his death Alexander Farnese ordered him to be decapitated with his accomplice, also an Englishman, who waited with the horses in the wood.
On the 16th of January, 1579, D. Bernardino de Mendoza wrote to Philip II from London:
"The Prince of Parma has had justice done to the two Englishmen about whom I wrote on the 16th of May, who left here with orders to kill the Lord D. John, God rest his soul. The Queen said with much annoyance, when she received the news from Walsingham, that it was the result of advice he and others had given, and the pass to which things were brought, which words Walsingham felt so much, that he came to this place from Court the next day with fever."