With three
hundred ships and six thousand knights and men-at-arms, she
sailed from the old harbor of Rotterdam, and the lion-flag of her
house soon floated above the loyal citadel of Gorkum.
Her doughty Dutch general, von Brederode, counselled immediate
attack, but the girl countess, though full of enthusiasm and
determination, hesitated.
From her station in the citadel she looked over the scene before
her. Here, along the low bank of the river Maas, stretched the
camp of her own followers, and the little gayly colored boats
that had brought her army up the river from the red roofs of
Rotterdam. There, stretching out into the flat country beyond the
straggling streets of Gorkum, lay the tents of the rebels. And
yet they were all her countrymen--rebels and retainers alike.
Hollanders all, they were ever ready to combine for the defence
of their homeland when threatened by foreign foes or by the
destroying ocean floods.
Jacqueline's eye caught the flutter of the broad banner of the
house of Arkell that waved over the rebel camp.
Again she saw the brave lad who alone of all her father's court,
save she, had dared to face Count William's lions; again the
remembrance of how his daring had made him one of her heroes,
filled her heart, and a dream of what might be possessed her.
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