When he reached the court-yard a man, who was a stranger to him, but who looked civil, came up and inquired whether his name was Francis de Enzinas. He answered that it was. 'I want to speak with you,' said the stranger. 'I am at your service,' replied the young Spaniard. They then passed on towards the gate of the monastery. The vast convent of the Dominicans with its outbuildings occupied a considerable part of the present site of the Mint, opposite the Theatre Royal, as well as some adjacent land. The gate by which Enzinas had to go out opened upon this place. As soon as it was unbarred he saw a large body of men armed with halberds, swords, and other weapons of war. They threw themselves upon him in a threatening manner.[140] Meanwhile the man who was in his company laid hold of his arms and said, 'You are my prisoner.' 'There was no need,' said Enzinas, 'to assemble such a troop of executioners against a poor man like me. They should be sent against brigands. My conscience is at peace, and I am ready to appear before any judge in the world, even before the emperor. I will go to prison, into exile, to the stake, and whithersoever you may please to conduct me.' 'I will not take you far,' said the unknown. 'Had it been possible to decline the mission which I am fulfilling, I assure you that I should have done so. But the chancellor Granvella has compelled me, asserting that he had received express orders from the emperor.' The prisoner, with his guide and his guards, crossed a small street, and arrived at the prison of the _Vrunte_, vulgarly called the _Amigo_, where the noble young man was confined, for having translated into good Spanish the Gospel of Jesus Christ. This took place on December 13, 1543. [Sidenote: ENZINAS IN PRISON.] The first four hours, from six at night till ten, were very painful. Enzinas had a lively imagination, and he saw before him great and numberless dangers, among which death seemed to be the least. All these perils were drawn up in battle array around him, and he seemed actually to see them.[141] But they did not appall him. 'How great soever may be the perils which await me,' he said, 'by God's grace I possess, for encountering them, a courage that is stronger and greater than they are.' Nevertheless, the treachery of the 'wicked monk' tormented him so much that he found it hard to endure. 'If only,' he thought, 'he had made fair war on me, if from the first he had shown himself my enemy....' He remained sunk in sorrow and dejection.