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.