He could therefore—­to his chagrin—­no longer save that important city, but he could, at least, cut off the head of the culprit.  Leicester was in Bommel when he heard of Baron Hemart’s faint-heartedness or treachery, and his wrath was extravagant in proportion to the exultation with which his previous success had inspired him.  He breathed nothing but revenge against the coward and the traitor, who had delivered up the town in “such lewd and beastly sort.”

“I will never depart hence,” he said, “till by the goodness of God I be satisfied someway of this villain’s treachery.”  There could be little doubt that Hemart deserved punishment.  There could be as little that Leicester would mete it out to him in ample measure.  “The lewd villain who gave up Grave,” said he, “and the captains as deep in fault as himself, shall all suffer together.”

Hemart came boldly to meet him.  “The honest man came to me at Bommel,” said Leicester, and he assured the government that it was in the hope of persuading the magistrates of that and other towns to imitate his own treachery.

But the magistrates straightway delivered the culprit to the governor-general, who immediately placed him under arrest.  A court-martial was summoned, 26th of June, at Utrecht, consisting of Hohenlo, Essex, and other distinguished officers.  They found that the conduct of the prisoner merited death, but left it to the Earl to decide whether various extenuating circumstances did not justify a pardon.  Hohenlo and Norris exerted themselves to procure a mitigation of the young man’s sentence, and they excited thereby the governor’s deep indignation.  Norris, according to Leicester, was in love with the culprit’s aunt, and was therefore especially desirous of saving his life.  Moreover, much use was made of the discredit which had been thrown by the Queen on the Earl’s authority, and it was openly maintained, that, being no longer governor-general, he had no authority to order execution upon a Netherland officer.

The favourable circumstances urged in the case, were, that Hemart was a young man, without experience in military matters, and that he had been overcome by the supplications and outcries of the women, panic-struck after the first assault.  There were no direct proofs of treachery, or even of personal cowardice.  He begged hard for a pardon, not on account of his life, but for the sake of his reputation.  He earnestly implored permission to serve under the Queen of England, as a private soldier, without pay, on land or sea, for as many years as she should specify, and to be selected for the most dangerous employments, in order that, before he died, he might wipe out the disgrace, which, through his fault, in an hour of weakness, had come upon an ancient and honourable house.  Much interest was made for him—­his family connection being powerful—­and a general impression prevailing that he had erred through folly rather than deep guilt.  But Leicester beating himself upon the breast—­as he was wont when excited—­swore that there should be no pardon for such a traitor.  The States of Holland and Zeeland, likewise, were decidedly in favour of a severe example.