With a half-laugh he handed to Louis, Culemburg, and Van der Berg their several commissions for raising men and levying war against Philip and his men—"to prevent the desolation overhanging the country by the ferocity of the Spaniards, to maintain the privileges sworn to by His Majesty and his predecessors, to prevent the extirpation of all religion by the Edicts, and to save the sons and daughters of the land from abject slavery, we have requested our dearly loved brother, Louis of Nassau, to issue as many troops as he shall think needful." So, still preserving the fiction of loyalty, did William defy Philip in terms of courteous submission to His Majesty; so he, as sovereign Prince of Orange, owning no lord, exercised his right to levy troops and declare war.
He had already refused haughtily the jurisdiction of Alva's Council of Troubles and proclaimed that he was only answerable to his peers, the Chapter of the Knights of the Golden Fleece and to the Emperor; and now he put himself even more definitely on the side of Philip's enemies. His expression was almost amused as he gave the three Counts the formal copies of their commission; his quick mind looked forward and saw that spare, pale figure wandering round the half-built Escorial, and his rage when he learnt that the one grandee of the Netherlands who had escaped his far-flung net was likely to strike a blow that would revenge all the others.
The council broke up.
As the gentlemen left the apartment the Seigneur de Villars asked Count Louis, what news from the Provinces?
"The last news—a week old—is but the same story," replied Louis: "murder, massacre, confiscation. It is believed that the Duchess will retire to Parma, leaving Alva absolute master, as he is indeed now. Culemburg's palace on the horse market has been confiscated——"
"As a revenge for the conspiracy that was plotted there," added Hoogstraaten, with a smile—"the Mass on Parma's wedding day, the banquet of the 'beggars'! Culemburg has paid dear for a sermon and a dinner."
"Brederode has paid dearer," said Culemburg.
"He is dead, is he not, your great 'beggar'?" asked De Cocqueville.
"At Castle Handeberg," answered the Nassau Count, a little sadly. "He fell into a melancholy, and drank himself to death; so his great shouting and fury ended in nothing—like a huge wind flowing aimlessly and suddenly dropping. Alas, he would have served us well now. I am sorry that his gaiety and his courage are overlaid with dust for ever."
"It is strange to think that Brederode is silent at last," remarked Van der Berg—"he who talked and laughed so well."