With the two papers—the formula of the oath and the Regent's letter—in his hand, he reviewed his position.
One point in his circumstances was salient beyond all others—his utter isolation.
He had last seen the two nobles, Egmont and Hoorne—who were his rivals in greatness and prestige, and had been united to him by so warm a friendship—at Diendermonde, when he, exasperated by the Regent's falseness and particularly by her action in sending Eric of Brunswick with troops to the towns that were within the Lordship of Orange, had urged Egmont to take a definite stand against the Government.
The Stadtholder of Flanders had refused; he was finally and definitely pledged to Philip.
And Hoorne, though he had acted justly towards the Reformers in Tournay—where he had been in authority during his brother's absence—and though he was embittered by the ruined condition of his fortunes and Philip's neglect, still remained sullenly loyal to Spain.
Montigny wrote from Madrid an account of Philip's wrath at the image-breaking, the Accord, and the public speaking, and expressed his own surprise and disgust at these outrages on the ancient faith.
Louis of Nassau and Ste Aldegonde were now outside the scope of the Prince's influence and entirely at one with Brederode, who was enclosed in his hereditary town of Vianen which he appeared to be fortifying, and with his party were most of the younger nobles, Culemburg, Van der Berg, De Hammes, and their fellows.
William of Orange stood quite alone.
And he had come to a juncture when he must either go into open opposition to the King or pledge himself to be his unquestioning instrument.
He was largely as one feeling his way in the dark with regard to the policy of Margaret and Philip, but he guessed the faces of the cards so carefully concealed; if he stooped to take the oath it would not be likely to save him when the time came for Philip to strike.