Peace could be restored only by the King's silencing them. So
she wished the Spaniards a speedy success, and detested the efforts
of independent minds; above all, of William of Orange, their only too
clear-sighted, cautious, devoted leader, also skilled in the arts of
dissimulation, in whom she recognised the most dangerous foe of Spanish
sovereignty and the unity of the Church.

When, by the Duke of Alba's orders, the Counts Egmont and Horn were
executed one June day in the market place of Brussels, opinions, even of
members of the Spanish party, were divided, especially as Count Egmont
was a Catholic, and had acted finally according to the views of the
government.

Barbara sincerely lamented his terrible end, for she had seen in him a
brilliant model for her John. In hours of depression, the sudden fall of
this favourite of the people seemed like an evil omen. But she would not
let these disquieting thoughts gain power over her, for she wished at
last to enjoy life and, as the mother of such a son, felt entitled to do
so.

She regarded this cruel deed of Alba as a false step at any rate, for,
though she kept so far aloof from the Netherland burghers and common
people, she perceived what deep indignation this measure aroused.

Meanwhile the Prince of Orange, the spirit and soul of this execrable
rebellion, had escaped the sentence of the court.

Nevertheless, she regarded Alba with great admiration, for he was a man
of ability, whom the Emperor Charles had held in high esteem. Besides,
after her husband's death the haughty noble had been courteous enough to
assure her of his sympathy.

Moreover, a time was just approaching in which she withdrew too far from
this conflict to follow it with full attention, for her son's first deed
of heroism became known in Brussels.

The King had appointed John to the command of the fleet, and sent him
against the pirates upon the African coast. He could now gather his
first laurels, and to do everything in her power for the success of his
arms, Barbara spent the greater portion of her time in church, praying
devoutly. In September he was greeted in Madrid as a conqueror, but
her joy was not unclouded; for the Infant Don Carlos had yielded up his
young life in July as a prisoner, and she believed him to be her John's
best friend, and lamented his death because she thought that it would
grieve her hero son.

But this little cloud soon vanished, and how brilliantly the blue
sky