d
nobles, he marched into the mountain region and advanced upon Sempach,
one of the revolted towns, resolved, he said, to punish its citizens
with a rod of iron for their daring rebellion.

On the 9th of July, 1386, the Austrian cavalry, several thousands in
number, reached the vicinity of Sempach, having distanced the
foot-soldiers in the impatient haste of their advance. Here they found
the weak array of the Swiss gathered on the surrounding heights, and as
eager as themselves for the fray. It was a small force, no stronger
than that of Morgarten, comprising only about fourteen hundred
poorly-armed men. Some carried halberds, some shorter weapons, while
some among them, instead of a shield, had only a small board fastened to
the left arm. It seemed like madness for such a band to dare contend
with the thousands of well-equipped invaders. But courage and patriotism
go far to replace numbers, as that day was to show.

Leopold looked upon his handful of foes, and decided that it would be
folly to wait for the footmen to arrive. Surely his host of nobles and
knights, with their followers, would soon sweep these peasants, like so
many locusts, from their path. Yet he remembered the confusion into
which the cavalry had been thrown at Morgarten, and deeming that
horsemen were ill-suited to an engagement on those wooded hill-sides, he
ordered the entire force to dismount and attack on foot.

The plan adopted was that the dismounted knights and soldiers should
join their ranks as closely as possible, until their front presented an
unbroken wall of iron, and thus arrayed should charge the enemy spear in
hand. Leaving their attendants in charge of their horses, the serried
column of footmen prepared to advance, confident of sweeping their foes
to death before their closely-knit line of spears.

Yet this plan of battle was not without its critics. The Baron of
Hasenburg, a veteran soldier, looked on it with disfavor, as contrasted
with the position of vantage occupied by the Swiss, and cautioned the
duke and his nobles against undue assurance.

"Pride never served any good purpose in peace or war," he said. "We had
much better wait until the infantry come up."

This prudent advice was received with shouts of derision by the nobles,
some of whom cried out insultingly,--

"Der Hasenburg hat ein Hasenherz" ("Hasenburg has a hare's heart," a
play upon the baron's name).

Certain nobles, however, who had not quite lost their