Philip resolved to defer taking any decisive step in the matter till his return to the north. Meanwhile he commended Alva's discretion in keeping the sentence secret, and charged him on no account to divulge it, even to members of the council.
Some months elapsed after the king's return to Madrid before he came to a decision,—exhibiting the procrastination, so conspicuous a trait in him, even among a people with whom procrastination was no miracle. It may have been that he was too much occupied with an interesting affair which pressed on him at that moment. About two years before, Philip had had the misfortune to lose his young and beautiful queen, Isabella of the Peace. Her place was now to be supplied by a German princess, Anne of Austria, his fourth wife, still younger than the one he had lost. She was already on her way to Castile; and the king may have been too much engrossed by his preparations for the nuptial festivities, to have much thought to bestow on the concerns of his wretched prisoner.
The problem to be solved was how to carry the sentence into effect, and yet leave the impression on the public that Montigny died a natural death. Most of the few ministers whom the king took into his confidence on the occasion were of opinion that it would be best to bring the prisoner's death about by means of a slow poison administered in his drink, or some article of his daily food. This would give him time, moreover, to provide for the concerns of his soul.[1244] But Philip objected to this, as not fulfilling what he was pleased to call the ends of justice.[1245] He at last decided on the garrote,—the form of execution used for the meaner sort of criminals in Spain, but which, producing death by suffocation, would be less likely to leave its traces on the body.[1246]
CLOSER CONFINEMENT.
To accomplish this, it would be necessary to remove Montigny from the town of Segovia, the gay residence of the court, and soon to be the scene of the wedding ceremonies, to some more remote and less frequented spot. Simancas was accordingly selected, whose stern, secluded fortress seemed to be a fitting place for the perpetration of such a deed. The fortress was of great strength, and was encompassed by massive walls, and a wide moat, across which two bridges gave access to the interior. It was anciently used as a prison for state criminals. Cardinal Ximenes first conceived the idea of turning it to the nobler purpose of preserving the public archives.[1247] Charles[{385}] the Fifth carried this enlightened project into execution; but it was not fully consummated till the time of Philip, who prescribed the regulations, and made all the necessary arrangements for placing the institution on a permanent basis,—thus securing to future historians the best means for guiding their steps through the dark and tortuous passages of his reign. But even after this change in its destination, the fortress of Simancas continued to be used occasionally as a place of confinement for prisoners of state. The famous bishop of Zamora, who took so active a part in the war of the comunidades, was there strangled by command of Charles the Fifth. The quarter of the building in which he suffered is still known by the name of "el cubo del obispo,"—"The Bishop's Tower."[1248]
To this strong place Montigny was removed from Segovia, on the nineteenth of August, 1570, under a numerous guard of alguazils and arquebusiers. For greater security he was put in irons,—a superfluous piece of cruelty, from which Philip, in a letter to Alva, thought it necessary to vindicate himself, as having been done without his orders.[1249] We might well imagine that the last ray of hope must have faded away in Montigny's bosom, as he entered the gloomy portals of his new abode. Yet hope, as we are assured, did not altogether desert him. He had learned that Anne of Austria had expressed much sympathy for his sufferings. It was but natural that the daughter of the emperor Maximilian should take an interest in the persecuted people of the Netherlands. It was even said that she promised the wife and step-mother of Montigny to make his liberation the first boon she would ask of her husband on coming to Castile.[1250] And Montigny cherished the fond hope that the influence of the young bride would turn the king from his purpose, and that her coming to Castile would be the signal for his liberation. That Anne should have yielded to such an illusion is not so strange, for she had never seen Philip; but that Montigny should have been beguiled by it is more difficult to understand.
In his new quarters he was treated with a show of respect, if not indulgence. He was even allowed some privileges. Though the guards were doubled over him, he was permitted to have his own servants, and, when it suited him, to take the fresh air and sunshine in the corridor.
Early in October the young Austrian princess landed on the northern shores of the kingdom, at Santander. The tidings of this may have induced the king to quicken his movements in regard to his prisoner, willing perhaps to relieve himself of all chance of importunity from his bride, as well as from the awkwardness of refusing the first favor she should request. As a preliminary step, it would be necessary to abridge the liberty which Montigny at present enjoyed, to confine him to his apartment, and cutting off his communications even with those in the castle, to spread the rumor of his illness, which should prepare the minds of the public for a fatal issue.
To furnish an apology for his close confinement, a story was got up of an attempt to escape, similar to what had actually occurred at Segovia. Peralta, alcayde of the fortress, a trustworthy vassal, to whom was committed the[{386}] direction of the affair, addressed a letter to the king, inclosing a note in Latin, which he pretended had been found under Montigny's window, containing sundry directions for his flight. The fact of such a design, the writer said, was corroborated by the appearance of certain persons in the disguise of friars about the castle. The governor, in consequence, had been obliged to remove his prisoner to other quarters, of greater security. He was accordingly lodged in the Bishop's Tower,—ominous quarters!—where he was no longer allowed the attendance of his own domestics, but placed in strict confinement. Montigny had taken this proceeding so ill, and with such vehement complaints of its injustice, that it had brought on a fever, under which he was now laboring. Peralta concluded by expressing his regret at being forced by Montigny's conduct into a course so painful to himself, as he would gladly have allowed him all the indulgence compatible with his own honor.[1251]—This letter, which had all been concocted in the cabinet at Madrid, was shown openly at court. It gained easier credit from the fact of Montigny's former attempt to escape; and the rumor went abroad that he was now lying dangerously ill.
Early in October, the licentiate Alonzo de Arellano had been summoned from Seville, and installed in the office of alcalde of the chancery of Valladolid, distant only two leagues from Simancas. Arellano was a person in whose discretion and devotion to himself Philip knew he could confide; and to him he now intrusted the execution of Montigny. Directions for the course he was to take, as well as the precautions he was to use to prevent suspicion, were set down in the royal instructions with great minuteness. They must be allowed to form a remarkable document, such as has rarely proceeded from a royal pen. The alcalde was to pass to Simancas, and take with him a notary, an executioner, and a priest. The last should be a man of undoubted piety and learning, capable of dispelling any doubts or errors that might unhappily have arisen in Montigny's mind in respect to the faith. Such a man appeared to be Fray Hernando del Castillo, of the order of St. Dominic, in Valladolid; and no better person could have been chosen, nor one more open to those feelings of humanity which are not always found under the robe of the friar.[1252]