The king loved to surround himself with mystery, to be unseen by the crowd except on occasions of great ceremony; and as he got older he became in public graver and more reserved than ever. He had by this time probably persuaded himself that he really was a sacred being, specially selected as the direct representative of the Almighty, to whom Popes and Churches were merely tools. Certain it is that he considered it unfitting in him to exhibit any of the usual emotions of humanity. On his marble mask anger, surprise, or joy left no sign. Philip landed in Spain on September 8, 1559, in great danger, the ship and all her rich freight sinking immediately after he left her. He had previously instructed the Regent Juana that heresy must be pursued without mercy in Spain, and she and young Carlos had sat through the horrors of a great auto de fé in Valladolid at the beginning of June, where some of the principal ladies of her own court were cruelly sacrificed. But this did not suffice for Philip. If he was to dominate the world from Spain, that country, at least, must be free from stain or suspicion. So the first great public ceremony he attended in the country that welcomed him was another stately auto at Valladolid. On Sunday, October 18, he sat on a splendid platform in the open space opposite the church of St. Martin. The judges of the Holy Office surrounded the throne, and the multitude, frantic with joy to see their beloved Philip again, and to enjoy a brilliant holiday, had flocked in for many miles around, attracted by the festival, and the forty days’ indulgence promised to them by the Church as a reward for their presence. Before the assembled multitude Philip solemnly swore to maintain the purity of the faith and to support the Holy Office. As the condemned criminals passed his platform, one of them, a gentleman of high birth, married to a descendant of the royal house of Castile, cried out to the king, “How is it that a gentleman like you can hand over another gentleman such as I am to these friars?” “If my son were as perverse as you are,” said Philip, “I myself would carry the faggots to burn him.” Twelve poor wretches were then handed over to the civil power for execution, with a canting request for mercy from the Inquisition, for the Holy Office itself never officially carried out the last sentence, and invariably begged hypocritically for mercy for the poor wracked bodies it had doomed to the fire.