ry drawn up in force upon the
watery, heathery pastures beyond. There was at once a scene of confusion.
To use lances was impossible, while they were all struggling together
through the narrow passage offering themselves an easy prey to the enemy
as they slowly emerged into the gelds. The foremost defended themselves
with sabre and pistol as well as they could. The hindmost did their best
to escape, and rode for their lives to the other side of the river. All
trampled upon each other and impeded each other's movements. There was a
brief engagement, bloody, desperate, hand to hand, and many Spaniards
fell before the entrapped Netherlanders. But there could not be a
moment's doubt as to the issue. Count Philip went down in the beginning
of the action, shot through the body by an arquebus, discharged so close
to him that his clothes were set on fire. As there was no water within
reach the flames could be extinguished at last only by rolling him over,
and over, wounded as he was, among the sand and heather. Count Ernest
Solms was desperately wounded at the same time. For a moment both
gentlemen attempted to effect their escape by mounting on one horse, but
both fell to the ground exhausted and were taken prisoners. Ernest Nassau
was also captured. His young brother, Lewis Gunther, saved himself by
swimming the river. Count Kinski was mortally wounded. Robert Vere, too,
fell into the enemy's hands, and was afterwards murdered in cold blood.
Marcellus Bax, who had returned to the field by a circuitous path, still
under the delusion that he was about handsomely to cut off the retreat of
the foraging companies, saved himself and a handful of cavalry by a rapid
flight, so soon as he discovered the enemy drawn up in line of battle.
Cutler and Parker were equally fortunate. There was less than a hundred
of the States' troops killed, and it is probable that a larger number of
the Spaniards fell. But the loss of Philip Nassau, despite the debauched
life and somewhat reckless valour of that soldier, was a very severe one
to the army and to his family. He was conveyed to Rheinberg, where his
wounds were dressed. As he lay dying he was courteously visited by
Mondragon, and by many other Spanish officers, anxious to pay their
respects to so distinguished and warlike a member of an illustrious
house. He received them with dignity, and concealed his physical agony so
as to respond to their conversation as became a Nassau. His cousin,
Freder