without wetting the soles of their own feet. The pikemen, too,
who composed the main body of the larger square, now charged upon all who
were extricating themselves from their entanglement, and drove them back
again to a muddy death. Simultaneously, the lesser patriot squadron,
which had so long been sheltered, emerged from the cover of the hill,
made a detour around its base, enveloped the rear-guard of the Spaniards
before they could advance to the succor of their perishing comrades, and
broke them to pieces almost instantly. Gonzalo de Braccamonte, the very
Spanish colonel who had been foremost in denunciation of Aremberg, for
his disposition to delay the contest, was now the first to fly. To his
bad conduct was ascribed the loss of the day. The anger of Alva was so
high, when he was informed of the incident, that he would have condemned
the officer to death but for the intercession of his friends and
countrymen. The rout was sudden and absolute. The foolhardiness of the
Spaniards had precipitated them into the pit which their enemies had dug.
The day, was lost. Nothing was left for Aremberg but to perish with
honor. Placing himself at the head of his handful of cavalry, he dashed
into the melee. The shock was sustained by young Adolphus of Nassau, at
the head of an equal number of riders. Each leader singled out the other.
They met as "captains of might" should do, in the very midst of the
affray. Aremberg, receiving and disregarding a pistol shot from his
adversary, laid Adolphus dead at his feet, with a bullet through his body
and a sabre cut on his head. Two troopers in immediate attendance upon
the young Count shared the same fate from the same hand. Shortly
afterward, the horse of Aremberg, wounded by a musket ball, fell to the
ground. A few devoted followers lifted the charger to his legs and the
bleeding rider to his saddle. They endeavored to bear their wounded
general from the scene of action. The horse staggered a few paces and
fell dead. Aremberg disengaged himself from his body, and walked a few
paces to the edge of a meadow near the road. Here, wounded in the action,
crippled by the disease which had so long tormented him, and scarcely
able to sustain longer the burthen of his armor, he calmly awaited his
fate. A troop of the enemy advanced soon afterwards, and Aremberg fell,
covered with wounds, fighting like a hero of Homer, single-handed,
against a battalion, with a courage worthy a better cause and a b