drawn up in battle array around a scaffold which had been erected in the
centre of the square. Upon this scaffold, which was covered with black
cloth, were placed two velvet cushions, two iron spikes, and a small
table. Upon the table was a silver crucifix. The provost-marshal,
Spelle, sat on horseback below, with his red wand in his hand, little
dreaming that for him a darker doom was reserved than that of which he
was now the minister. The executioner was concealed beneath the
draperies of the scaffold.

At eleven o'clock, a company of Spanish soldiers, led by Julian Romero
and Captain Salinas, arrived at Egmont's chamber. The Count was ready
for them. They were about to bind his hands, but he warmly protested
against the indignity, and, opening the folds of his robe, showed them
that he had himself shorn off his collars, and made preparations for his
death. His request was granted. Egmont, with the Bishop at his side,
then walked with a steady step the short distance which separated him
from the place of execution. Julian Romero and the guard followed him.
On his way, he read aloud the fifty-first Psalm: "Hear my cry, O God, and
give ear unto my prayer!" He seemed to have selected these scriptural
passages as a proof that, notwithstanding the machinations of his
enemies, and the cruel punishment to which they had led him, loyalty to
his sovereign was as deeply rooted and as religious a sentiment in his
bosom as devotion to his God. "Thou wilt prolong the King's life; and
his years as many generations. He shall abide before God for ever!
O prepare mercy and truth which may preserve him." Such was the
remarkable prayer of the condemned traitor on his way to the block.

Having ascended the scaffold, he walked across it twice or thrice. He
was dressed in a tabard or robe of red damask, over which was thrown a
short black mantle, embroidered in gold. He had a black silk hat, with