Egmont had obtained, as a last favor, that his execution should precede that of his friend.  Deeming himself in part to blame for Horn’s reappearance in Brussels after the arrival of Alva, and for his, death, which was the result, he wished to be spared the pang of seeing him dead.  Gemma Frisius, the astrologer who had cast the horoscope of Count Horn at his birth, had come to him in the most solemn manner to warn him against visiting Brussels.  The Count had answered stoutly that he placed his trust in God, and that, moreover, his friend Egmont was going thither also, who had engaged that no worse fate should befal the one of them than the other.

The heads of both sufferers were now exposed for two hours upon the iron stakes.  Their bodies, placed in coffins, remained during the same interval upon the scaffold.  Meantime, notwithstanding the presence of the troops, the populace could not be restrained from tears and from execrations.  Many crowded about the scaffold, and dipped their handkerchiefs in the blood, to be preserved afterwards as memorials of the crime and as ensigns of revenge.

The bodies were afterwards delivered to their friends.  A stately procession of the guilds, accompanied by many of the clergy, conveyed their coffins to the church of Saint Gudule.  Thence the body of Egmont was carried to the convent of Saint Clara, near the old Brussels gate, where it was embalmed.  His escutcheon and banners were hung upon the outward wall of his residence, by order of the Countess.  By command of Alva they were immediately torn down.  His remains were afterwards conveyed to his city of Sottegem, in Flanders, where they were interred.  Count Horn was entombed at Kempen.  The bodies had been removed from the scaffold at two o’clock.  The heads remained exposed between burning torches for two hours longer.  They were then taken down, enclosed in boxes, and, as it was generally supposed, despatched to Madrid.  The King was thus enabled to look upon the dead faces of his victims without the trouble of a journey to the provinces.

Thus died Philip Montmorency, Count of Horn, and Lamoral of Egmont, Prince of Gaveren.  The more intense sympathy which seemed to attach itself to the fate of Egmont, rendered the misfortune of his companion in arms and in death comparatively less interesting.

Egmont is a great historical figure, but he was certainly not a great man.  His execution remains an enduring monument not only of Philip’s cruelty and perfidy but of his dullness.  The King had everything to hope from Egmont and nothing to fear.  Granvelle knew the man well, and, almost to the last, could not believe in the possibility of so unparalleled a blunder as that which was to make a victim, a martyr, and a popular idol of a personage brave indeed, but incredibly vacillating and inordinately vain, who, by a little management, might have been converted into a most useful instrument for the royal purposes.