' Long
live our Sovereign Lady of Holland!"
On the morrow, a murky December day, in the year 1417, the battle
was joined, as announced. On the low plain beyond the city,
knights and men-at-arms, archers and spearmen, closed in the
shock of battle, and a stubborn and bloody fight it was.
Seven times did the knights of Jacqueline, glittering in their
steel armor, clash into the rebel ranks; seven times were they
driven back, until, at last, the Lord of Arkell, with a fiery
charge, forced them against the very gates of the citadel. The
brave von Brederode fell pierced with wounds, and the day seemed
lost, indeed, to the Lady of Holland.
Then Jacqueline the Countess, seeing her cause in danger--like
another Joan of Arc, though she was indeed a younger and much
more beautiful girl general,--seized the lion-banner of her
house, and, at the head of her reserve troops, charged through
the open gate straight into the ranks of her victorious foes.
There was neither mercy nor gentleness in her heart then. As when
she had cowed with a look Ajax, the lion, so now, with defiance
and wrath in her face, she dashed straight at the foe.
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