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 to Escovedo. 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 where the
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.