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 miserable villages 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 in sentencing 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 wounded to 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.