Chapter IV: The First Battle

Aremberg and his men came in sight of the "beggars," opened fire on the light troops on the hill from the Groningen cannon, then paused.

Louis of Nassau, waiting at the head of the main body of his army, felt his heart sink.

He discerned that the Stadtholder had noticed that to carry the rebels' position he must needs cross the swamp, and that he preferred to skirmish and wait for Meghem with reinforcements.

An hour of the bright morning passed heavily by; then, to the intense relief of Louis, Aremberg again opened fire.

The impatient Spanish officers had reproached the Netherlander for his slowness and caution; they had no wish to share glory and spoils with Meghem's men; they believed that the "beggars" would fly at sight of them; they even taunted Aremberg. Braccamonte, the general of the Sardinian troops, dared to suggest that the Stadtholder, like his rebellious countrymen, was at heart a heretic.

Aremberg, broken by illness, stung and inflamed by the Southern insolence, gave orders for an immediate attack—orders that were against his own knowledge and experience and against the trend of all Alva's advice.

So the guns of the city of Groningen again opened fire, and their sound was music in the ears of the rebel commander, and the acrid smell of the powder, sweeter than the fresh perfume of the flowers opening to the early morning in the convent garden.

The light force which had received the fire now fled from their position.

Louis smiled, keenly watching the enemy.

Again there was a pause in the royal ranks; again Aremberg suggested a stratagem and the dangerous nature of the ground.

But the Spanish officers were now beyond control.

Seeing the flight of the troops on the hillside (a flight that was, as Aremberg suspected, a snare), they believed the whole rabble of the "beggars" were in a rout before them, and rushed forward to attack and disperse the two squadrons of the main army.

As they dashed from the road and the wood, brandishing their swords and shouting to each other, man after man plunged into the morass, the treacherous grass gave way beneath them, while the deep pools left by the peat gatherers sucked in others to their necks.

In a few moments the entire advance guard of the Spaniards was entangled, helpless, and perishing in the swamp.

Louis now ordered up his musketeers, who opened a quick fire on the struggling enemy and drove them back again into the marsh.

Meanwhile, Braccamonte was bringing up his rearguard to the rescue. Louis, perceiving this, sent his concealed battalions round the base of the hill to cut off the Spanish.

Braccamonte, finding himself ambushed, and fresh contingents of the Netherlanders pouring in on his ranks, utterly lost his courage.

Shouting confused orders to his troop he turned and fled.

His men, surprised, left without a leader, were instantly driven back by the "beggars" and fell in helter-skelter confusion on to those already entrapped in the morass.

The battle field was now one red carnage; the verdant fields of grass were broken into trampled slime that disfigured the gay armour of the dead and dying Sardinian soldiers, whose dark faces were twisted into an expression of wrath and amazement.

The stagnant peat pools glowed horrid with blood, the once pure air smelt foul with smoke, the soft sounds of bird and insect were changed for broken curses, shouts of despair, and gasped prayers.

The proud, insolent, and arrogant troops of Spain knew themselves completely scattered and beaten by the rebels at whom they had so jeered and laughed.

Louis, gathering together the remainder of his men, dashed forward with weapons and banners uplifted, and fell upon the bewildered fugitives.

Aremberg had watched the troops, who had refused to listen to his orders, go to their steady defeat; when Braccamonte, riding hard for safety, dashed past him, a bitter smile curled his pale lip.

"Save yourself!" shouted the Spaniard.

But the Netherlander, at whose courage the Southerns had mocked, never left his post.

He saw perfectly that the day was lost; his men were being cut to pieces before his eyes, his officers had fled; under his own command he had only a few horsemen.

Turning his gaze from the bloody mêlée where Louis was driving before him the boasted Sardinian regiments, Aremberg looked to the road, which was barred by Adolphus and his horsemen who still presented unbroken ranks though they had received the first shock of the artillery.

The few officers left in attendance on the Stadtholder urged his immediate flight along the road he had just traversed.

"How shall I account for this day's work to Alva?" answered the Netherlander sternly.

Rising in his stirrups he called to his men to follow him, and hurled himself on the young Nassau.

The two leaders singled each other out; they had last met in the tennis court at the Nassau palace in Brussels.

They smiled at each other, and both fired; Aremberg received the ball in his side, but fired again, then struck with his sword at the flame-like plume on the black casque.

It dipped and fell backwards; at the same moment a rush of "beggar" cavalry drove the Stadtholder before them.

He looked round, and perceived that all his men had fled save a few attendants; he had been shot twice through the side, his disease bowed him to the saddle with pain, the weight of his armour was almost intolerable; he cast away his helmet whose protection he despised, and retreated slowly, keeping his face to the enemy.

A musket ball struck his horse, which fell under him; two attendants picked him up and dragged the animal to its feet.

It staggered a few paces, then fell dead.

A second time Aremberg got to his feet; two rebel troopers approached him, he shot both, and continued to limp along the stone causeway on which the fresh blood was drying in the May sun.

He saw a large body of the enemy coming passionately behind him, and dragged himself painfully off the road on to a little meadow that sloped to the wood.

There he stood at bay leaning his back against a little fir tree that could hardly support his weight, and wiping, with the ragged ends of his sash, the cold sweat from his brow and the blood from his sword.

The enemy soon discovered him—there was half a regiment of them—he gathered all his strength to straighten his body that he might meet them standing.

Another shot struck him, he fell on his knees, still wielding his sword—one against many; one officer cried out to spare him, for it was the Stadtholder, but even as he spoke Aremberg fell, shot through the throat, sinking on his own sword which broke and fell beneath him.

They picked him up and wrapped him in a cloak, and carried him through the morass filled with his dead soldiers to the victorious Louis of Nassau.

That young general was flushed with hope; he had seen the veteran troops of Spain go down before the onslaught of the "beggars" and the Nassau arms wave above the field of victory.

The sun was only just beginning to slant in the heavens, and there was not one of all the boastful hosts of that morning to fire a shot or raise a sword for Spain.

When the dead general was laid at his feet, Louis uncovered.

"He should have been spared," he said, in a moved voice.

They lifted up the mantle and Louis looked down at the fiery Stadtholder now mangled with shot and sword.

"He was too good to be Alva's pawn," he said. "Such bravery went ill with such a cause."

He ordered the body to be carried up to the convent, and sent a messenger to his brother; he was himself turning up the hill when the clear challenge of advancing trumpets came across the wood.

"Meghem!" cried Louis, and hastened back to the head of his troop.

It was in truth the Stadtholder of Gueldres; Louis hastily called off the pursuers and, in the fear of another attack, drew back his entire force on to the dry ground.

But Count Meghem was alone; his troops had been too exhausted to push on; he, however, with a small bodyguard, had hurried from Zaidlaren where he had found a letter from Aremberg bidding him hasten.

Before he reached the encampment of the "beggars" the stream of fugitives told him of disaster; from some flying Sardinians he learnt of Aremberg's utter defeat and death.

Wild with fury he pushed recklessly on, until he was able to discern with his own eyes the distant swamp where had been engulfed the veterans of Spain, then turning his horse's head he pressed back to Zaidlaren and ordered his men to fall back and secure Groningen, in which city he sat down to write the news to Alva.

Louis, secure that there would be no further attack, now occupied himself in seeing to the troops and ordering the disposition of the wounded, who were not numerous, though more than a thousand of the enemy had been slain.

It was the hour of sunset when he returned to the convent; he expected there to find his brother, for whom he had repeatedly asked, but whom he had not seen since the battle.

He believed that Adolphus must have gone in pursuit of Braccamonte's flying battalions. With a sigh of fatigue he took off his casque and gloves and called for water and for his page to unbuckle his armour.

"Where is the Count Adolphus?" he asked again, looking round him.

The officers who filled the chamber were silent; then one of them drew Louis to the door of an inner room which had been a monk's cell.

This little apartment was flooded with light which poured through the dancing green branches of the fruit trees without and was musical with the evening song of birds.

The only furniture was a chair, a table, and a bed.

On the chair was a splendid stained sword, on the table a black casque with a flame-like plume, and on the bed something wrapped in the banner with the Nassau device which had waved that morning at the head of Adolphus' little troop of horse.

Louis could read quite plainly the words, "_Nunc aut nunquam, recuperare aut mori_,"—they were slightly sprinkled with blood.

And at the bottom of the bed the banner lifted, showing the soles of two mailed feet.

For a moment Louis felt his courage and strength leave him; he leant against the door-lintel as weak as a sick girl.

Then, "He is dead," he said; "why was I not told?" and with a firm step he approached the bed, and turned back the silk fold of the banner.

The young man lay with his head turned towards the wall. Aremberg's sword, cutting through steel and leather, had cloven the fair curls and the youthful forehead an inch deep; the reverently placed linen bandage was crimson with blood, and the long locks were clotted and tangled; the lips were strained into what seemed a stern smile, and the head had fallen so that the chin was raised haughtily. The orange scarf was pierced by a bullet that had entered under the edge of the cuirass, above this wound the young warrior's fine hands had been crossed.

Louis gazed long and earnestly, recalling every word of the youth's speech last night, every gesture, recalling his last embrace that morning—and the victory, bought with this dear blood, became as nothing to Louis of Nassau.

The first toll had been paid; very early in the fight had it been exacted; with the first crossing of swords a Nassau had laid down his life.

Louis bowed his head as he replaced the banner fold over the dead features, and his eyes swelled and burnt with tears.

Two of Adolphus' officers came softly forward now, gathering courage to speak.

"It was the Stadtholder slew His Excellency—they came together through all their troop—the Count fell, very valiantly wounded, at the first onslaught—his two esquires were shot by Count Aremberg also."

"We brought him here," added the other, "not to disturb your lordship with grief until the fight was over."

Louis did not answer; he stood heavily, looking at the straight outline beneath the banner and thinking of the gallant figure who had kissed him that morning before the battle, and of the Prince at Cleves and the women at Dillenburg waiting for news, to whom would come this news—this and the news from Juliers which Adolphus had never known.

Barren and small seemed his victory to Louis, and heavy and mysterious the ways of God.

He left the little chamber, closing the door gently as if he feared to disturb his brother's solemn sleep, and went out into the still garden, now flushed rosy from the setting sun.

There against the wall leant a miserable figure, Duprès the skryer.

He glanced furtively and fearfully at Louis, yet with a pleading look like a dog waiting to be called.

Louis started at sight of him.

"Ah, you!" he exclaimed; "one of your prophecies has been fulfilled!"

Duprès abased himself before the young general.

"I knew," he said humbly. "But, seigneur, I never told him—I saw one star fall for Count Aremberg and one for _him_—but _he_ knew without my words."

"Yes, I think he knew," replied Louis; he looked keenly at the half-starved, ragged figure of the refugee. "And when shall I join him, wise fellow?"

Duprès crouched away.

"The contest will outlast all the warriors," he muttered, "and your horoscope is more dreadful than his—but how do I know? I cannot read the heavens as I could!"

"There is no need to look in the heavens for my portents," said Louis, as if speaking to himself, "they are blazed abroad before the eyes of men very clearly."

The golden dusk faded and darkness closed over Heiliger Lee, soft clouds passed over the setting sun which pierced them with level rays like spears; the dead men in the morass were hidden, the moving light of lanterns crossed and recrossed the victorious camp.

A mist, white and trembling, rose from the swamp and obscured the roadway; the young trees in the forest, shivered and faded to a dark hue against the last pearly glow of the west.

The birds were silent in the fruit garden, and all the flowers were closed away and hidden in the night.

Count Aremberg lay lonely with a crucifix on his breast and his cloak folded straight; but throughout the night Louis kept company with his brother, kneeling on the boards beside his bed and wetting the blood-stained banner with his tears, while the heads of the two young warriors, still so alike, rested for the last time on the same pillow, touched, for the last time, cheek to cheek and lip to lip.