The bishop intended, however, that Berthelier should be conveyed to the place of execution for criminals; he only found it more prudent to have him taken thither dead than alive, being sure that in this way the ‘youths of Geneva’ could not restore him to liberty. The lifeless body of the martyr was placed on a waggon; the executioner got in and stood beside it, holding the victim’s head in his hand. A universal horror fell upon the people, and many, heartbroken at being unable to save their friend, shut themselves up in their houses to veil their hatred and their shame. The long procession, starting from the castle, moved forward, preceded and closed by foreign soldiers; in the middle was the waggon bearing the dead body, and close behind followed many mamelukes, ‘not the least of their party, in great insolence, mocking at their own calamity; but good men dared not breathe, seeing that when force reigns, the good cause must keep still.’[272] A few huguenots, however, mournful and indignant, appeared in the streets or at their doors. Meanwhile the executioner, parading in his triumphal car, swung derisively to and fro the martyr’s bleeding head, and cried: ‘This is the head of the traitor Berthelier: let all take warning by it.’ The procession continued its march as far as Champel, where the executioner suspended the body of the father of Genevese liberty to the gibbet. Thence, by a singular refinement of cruelty, they proceeded to the bridge of Arve, and the head of the dead man, who had so often terrified the bishop, was fastened up in the place where those of Blanchet and Navis had hung so long. The prelate seemed to take pleasure in reviving the recollection of his former butcheries.