to a throne, but simply "Lady of Holland."

But in Holland, too, sorrow was in store for her. Swiftly following the
loss of her husband, the Dauphin, came the still heavier blow of her
father's death. On the thirtieth of May, 1417, Count William died in his
castle of Bouchain, in Hainault, and his sorrowing daughter Jacqueline,
now a beautiful girl of sixteen, succeeded to his titles and lordship as
Countess and Lady Supreme of Hainault, of Holland, and of Zealand.

For years, however, there had been throughout the Low Countries a strong
objection to the rule of a woman. The death of Count William showed the
Cods a way toward greater liberty. Rebellion followed rebellion, and the
rule of the Countess Jacqueline was by no means a restful one.

And chief among the rebellious spirits, as leader and counsellor among
the Cods, appeared the brave lad who had once been the companion of the
princess in danger, the young Lord of Arkell.

It was he who lifted the standard of revolt against her regency. Placing
the welfare of Holland above personal friendship, and sinking, in his
desire for glory, even the chivalry of that day, which should have
prompted him to aid rather than annoy this beautiful girl, he raised a
considerable army among the knights of the Cods, or liberal party, and
the warlike merchants of the cities, took possession of many strong
positions in Holland, and occupied, among other places, the important
town of Gorkum on the Maas. The stout citadel of the town, was, however,
garrisoned with loyal troops. This the Lord of Arkell beseiged, and,
demanding its surrender, sent also a haughty challenge to the young
countess, who was hastening to the relief of her beleaguered town.

Jacqueline's answer was swift and unmistakable. With three hundred ships
and six thousand knights and men-at-arms, she sailed from the old harbor
of Rotterdam, and the lion-flag of her house soon floated above the
loyal citadel of Gorkum.

Her doughty Dutch general, von Brederode, counselled immediate attack,
but the girl countess, though full of enthusiasm and determination,
hesitated.

From her station in the citadel she looked over the scene before her.
Here, along the low bank of the river Maas, stretched the camp of her
own followers, and the little gayly colored boats that had brought her
army up the river from the red roofs of Rotterdam. There, stretching out
into the flat country beyond the straggling streets of Gorkum, lay the