Antonio Pérez gave up the "Casilla" to D. John and his household, and
retired with his wife and sons to his other magnificent and sumptuous
house "La Villa," which had belonged to the Conde de Puñonrostro, and
was contiguous to the church of St. Justin (the site now occupied by the
military school). Every day, however, he went to the "Casilla," to pay
his court to D. John and to attend him on his visits, business, and
pleasures. Antonio Pérez wasted no time; he had already on the way from
Guadalajara exaggerated D. Philip's displeasure, and had offered to go
post-haste to the Escorial to try to placate the King with some pretext
which he would invent. This he did as soon as he had installed his
illustrious guest in the "Casilla," and at the Escorial the King and the
secretary decided together that D. John should present himself there as
soon as possible, in order not further to delay his departure for
Flanders, and that Pérez should boast of the friendly act in having
smoothed the annoyance of the King, the more to confirm D. John's
incautious confidence, which Pérez was so treacherously acquiring.
D. Philip received his brother with the greatest affability, and without
making the slightest allusion to the annoyance the coming of D. John had
caused him; he rose on seeing D. John enter the room, and at once gave
his hand to be kissed, embracing him tenderly, and then, what always
happened when the two brothers met face to face, occurred. The ice
melted, suspicion was calmed, and D. John's loyal frankness and lovable
charm penetrated and even overthrew D. Philip's cold reserve. It is
nowhere related that D. John spoke at that time, as he meant to have
done, about his title of Infante: perhaps the artful Pérez had dissuaded
him, or maybe he forebore of his own accord, in view of D. Philip's
determination to organise the English expedition, according to the plans
of Gregory XIII, as soon as Flanders should be pacified. D. Philip's
promises were so clear and definite that it is impossible to believe, as
Antonio Pérez asserts, that it was simply a strategy to animate D. John
by these hopes, without supposing in Philip a falseness and bad faith
capable of sweeping away and treading everything under foot. Because it
was not only D. John who was taken in by this strategy; it was also the
Sovereign Pontiff, the instigator and principal upholder of the English
enterprise, and the English and Scotch lords and all the Catholics in
these kingdoms, who were risking their lives and properties; and it was,
above all, the unlucky Queen of Scots who, deceived by these false
hopes, would lose time and the opportunity for using surer means of
freeing herself from captivity and death.
Moreover, Philip II did not restrict himself to making these promises
privately to D. John, or only by word of mouth; he also made them in
writing in two letters which he sent to him in Flanders. Here are the
two important documents, which should be read with the greatest
attention, because they contain the standard of D. John's loyal conduct
in that appointment.
"By another, which goes with this, you will see what I think
about the English business. In this I have desired to tell you
that the good-will I always have towards you as a brother is
such and so great that, after the service which I wish to render
to Our Lord in converting this kingdom to the Catholic religion,
I wish more than you can estimate, that this should succeed as a
way in which I can prove how much I love you; and as a sign and
proof of this, from this moment, I assure you that, the business
of this kingdom settled, it will be my delight to see you in
possession of it, marrying you to the Queen of Scotland, if she
be still alive, freeing her and setting her on her throne, which
seems to be her desire, and it will be more than due to him who
has delivered her from all this peril and placed her in freedom
and possession of her throne; even if your rank and quality were
not equal to hers, your bravery makes you well deserve each
other. And though if this happens there are some things to
settle and agree about, it seems to me useless to do so before
the time, and it suffices, at present, to tell you, as above,
what are to be the ways and conditions which seem to me best for
my service and for the welfare of our affairs and States."
The other letter of the same date, alluded to in the one above, says:
"Having considered the orders and advice that I gave you
regarding what should be done for the absolute pacification of
Flanders, and particularly about removing the Spaniards, if it
be necessary, and what to do with them, since you left I have
thought what it would be well to do with these soldiers in that
case, and whether at this juncture it would be desirable to
undertake the English affair, representing to myself, on the one
hand, that no better time could offer for taking the Queen of
that kingdom unawares and for withdrawing these soldiers from my
States with honour, and of the great service it would be to Our
Lord to convert that kingdom to the Catholic religion, and other
considerations which occurred to me; and, on the other hand, of
the responsibilities we undertake in beginning, without much
reason or certainty of success, of the difficulties which may
arise in this undertaking, and of the great troubles which might
be caused by upsetting Christendom and all the world. I wished
to advise you about all I think of this affair and my wishes
concerning it. First, you must not by any means embark on this
business until all is quiet and peaceable in those States.
Moreover, it must be well considered how much the help of the
English can be counted on in this enterprise, as there is no
kingdom, however small, that can be gained without the help of
that kingdom, nor should anyone try to do so. Besides this, we
must consider whether the said Queen is suspicious about your
going to those States, and has taken precautions and begun to
live with greater care for her safety and that of the kingdom,
because if this were so there would be no use in thinking of the
business. To allay the said Queen's suspicion and distrust that
the seeing you in those States may have caused her, it seems to
me that it would be well to continue to make much of her and to
be on good terms with her as opportunity offers."
Philip appeared much pleased by his brother's visit to the Escorial,
and, contrary to what he had told Pérez, accompanied him to Madrid on
the 22nd of September, and ordered the prelates of the religious orders
to make public rogations and processions for the success of D. John's
journey and Governorship. D. John took advantage of the days during
which D. Philip lingered over dispatching him to enjoy the company of
his friends, and this he did at the sumptuous suppers which Antonio
Pérez gave daily at the "Casilla," followed by much gambling and picnics
at Los Chorrillos, a delightful spot in the wood, to which the great
ladies of the Court also came. The most sought after of these was the
Princess de Évoli, then a widow, about whose intimacy with Antonio Pérez
people had begun to whisper. This gossip had not yet reached the ears of
D. John, but it was then brought by the Marqués de Fabara, an
ill-natured busybody, who had fought under his orders in the Alpujarras,
and who now followed him about, wishing to be taken to Flanders. The
Marqués said much about the lady's light conduct and the presumption of
the haughty plebeian, and ended by consulting D. John whether as a
relation of the Princess he ought to beat Antonio Pérez or give him a
thrust with his sword. D. John cut him short by saying that he did not
understand questions of casuistry, only war; but what Fabara said made
him remember certain strange familiarities he had noticed between the
secretary and the Princess, on the several visits that he had paid her
in her house in the lane of St. Mary, always accompanied by Pérez. A
simple event happened the next day which ended by convincing him of
these impure loves which were to bring about the terrible drama which
Antonio Pérez was preparing.
In the wood of the "Casilla" there was a delightful place called Los
Chorrillos, from the springs which burst forth there. Antonio Pérez had
built a cottage there, rustic in appearance, but in reality costly and
luxurious, and had made in front of it a wide space, on which cane
jousts could be held, or tilting at the ring, or even bull-fights and
other games of the period. Before D. John left, Antonio Pérez gave a
picnic to the ladies at the Chorrillos, and to amuse and please them the
gentlemen were to tilt at the "estafermo." This game consisted in a big
figure of an armed man, with a shield in his left hand, and in his right
some straps, from which bags of sand hung. The figure was placed on a
pole, above an axle, so that it could turn round; when a rider, coming
at it with his lance couched, struck the shield and made the figure turn
quickly, it gave him a heavy blow with the bags if he were not very
quick; to avoid the blow with dexterity was the first point in the game.
The ladies arrived at the "Casilla," some in coaches, others in litters,
and the humbler ones among them on horseback, all very smart and
accompanied by gallants; at the head of them was the Duquesa de
Infantado, Doña Juana de Coello, the wife of Antonio Pérez, and the
Princess de Évoli. From the "Casilla" to Los Chorillos, a distance of
about half a league, the ladies went in carts prepared by Antonio Pérez;
these were adorned with tapestries and brocades and soft cushions, and
the oxen were caparisoned with crimson and had their horns gilded; the
herdsmen were dressed in shepherd's garb of brocade and fine skins, and
velvet caps, and in their hands were long wands of wood with silver
rings. The gentlemen rode around the carts, going from one to the other
with merry talk and seemly jests. The "estafermo" was erected in the
middle of the ground; it was a grotesque and corpulent warrior, armed
like a Fleming, a caricature of the Prince of Orange, the redoubtable
leader of the rebels in Flanders. And that no one should doubt the
meaning there was written in big letters on the support of the
"estafermo," "The Silent," which was the nickname given to Orange.
It happened that, when tilting at the "estafermo," Honorato de Silva, a
gentleman much liked by D. John, gave such a hard thrust that one of the
bags fell off and by ill-luck knocked Antonio Pérez on the head, who
fell, stunned and unconscious from the blow. Everyone was upset; they
carried him to the rustic cottage, and the first fright over went back
to the game, laughing over the violence of the Prince of Orange. Antonio
Pérez remained resting in a little room apart. After a long while D.
John went to see him; at the door he met one of the Princess de Évoli's
duennas, named Doña Bernardina, sitting on a bench. She was much
perturbed at seeing him and wished to prevent his entering, saying that
the Lord Antonio was asleep; but as at that moment D. John heard
laughing behind the curtain, the duenna darted into the room to give
warning; unfortunately, as she lifted the curtain, D. John could plainly
see Antonio Pérez lying on a low sofa and the Princess de Évoli kneeling
before him, and with great liveliness, amid the laughter of both,
putting medicated cloths on his head, which she wetted in a silver bowl
placed on the ground. D. John pretended to have seen nothing, neither
did he dare confide the matter to anyone for fear of showing up the
weakness of a lady and the peccadilloes of a friend. But many months
later, away in Flanders, while he was talking one day to Escovedo about
certain demands of the Princess de Évoli, which the secretary wished to
grant, he was obliged, in order to convince Escovedo of the
shamelessness of the case, to tell him of Fabara's gossip and the scene
at the Chorrillos. D. John himself thus, unconsciously, unchained the
winds of the terrible storm of reproaches, hatred and shame in which
Escovedo perished.
The King arranged D. John's journey with great caution and mystery, to
prevent his departure being known in Flanders, lest they should guard
against his coming. He set out at the end of October, without saying
farewell to anyone, and, as the story goes, went to the Escorial to
return again to Madrid, where Escovedo awaited him, arranging with the
Treasurer Garnica the necessary funds for paying the troops in Flanders.
At the Escorial D. John took leave of his suite, and with only Octavio
Gonzaga and Honorato de Silva went by post to Abrojo, where he was
expected by Doña Magdalena de Ulloa. D. John had written to tell her he
had prepared for the visit "a ceremonial which delights your Grace, as
you are so holy, and for the great love you have for me, the like of
which certainly I have never found or ever shall find in my life."
This "ceremonial" which D. John had arranged was one of the proofs of
his tender affection, knowing the highly religious feelings of the noble
lady. The day of his arrival he confessed fully to the old Fr. Juan de
Calahorra, and on the next, in the Prior's private oratory, he
communicated humbly and devoutly at Doña Magdalena's side, partaking of
the same wafer as she did, as on the first occasion of his approaching
the holy table, led by the hand of Doña Magdalena, twenty years before,
away in Villagarcia. Tears of quiet joy streamed over the old lady's
wrinkled cheek, as she understood that in this way D. John wished to
show her that his faith and his love for her were unchanged, and tears
also ran down the face of the hero of Lepanto as he reflected that,
although his faith and filial love were unaltered, yet that he could not
kneel by the side of that saintly woman wearing, as before, the white
stole of innocence, but rather the rough, dark sackcloth of penitence.
Then he gave her several Bulls and briefs obtained by him from the Roman
Pontiff, conceding graces and privileges to the church and house of the
Jesuits, founded by Doña Magdalena at Villagarcia, and the drawings of
the beautiful alabaster "retablo" representing the Passion of Our Lord,
which he had ordered for the same church, in which lay buried "his uncle
and father Luis Quijada," and in which a sepulchre for Doña Magdalena
was open and ready. Too soon for everyone came the moment of departure.
D. John was to make the rest of the journey disguised as the servant of
Octavio Gonzaga, and for this purpose donned a coat of brown homespun, a
cap of the same, and high boots of Cordovan leather; he also wished to
cut off his moustaches but Doña Magdalena cried out against this
profanation of D. John's manly beauty and the sacrifice of those fair
hair, she had seen slowly grow. She offered herself to stain his hair
and beard black with some dye he had brought, and did so, taking great
pains, holding D. John's head in her lap as when he was a child, amid
peals of laughter on his part and no small amusement and tenderness on
hers. Her work finished, Doña Magdalena contemplated it, and thought D.
John as comely as a black-haired servant as he was as a fair-haired
Prince, and, smiling complacently, she said, half pleased and half
nervous, "It must be a very obtuse person that Y.H. takes in—they will
all say, 'Under this sackcloth there is ——'"
Doña Magdalena mounted a tower on the wall which surrounded Abrojo, to
see the last of him, with Fr. Juan de Calahorra, the Prior, and the
other monks, and, bathed in tears, to watch him turn his head and smile
at the last bend of the road, her kind heart not guessing that he was
disappearing for ever, that she would never see him again, and that in
less than two years all this youth, gallantry and greatness would be
dust, and that this deep, pure love would be nothing but a memory in her
old age.