e challenge of the herald
of Arkell, as his trumpet-blast sounded before the gate of the citadel,
"the free Lord of Arkell here giveth you word and warning that he will
fight against you on the morrow!"

And from the citadel came back this ringing reply, as the knight of
Leyenburg made answer for his sovereign lady:

"Hear ye, sir Herald, and answer thus to the rebel Lord of Arkell: 'For
the purpose of fighting him came we here, and fight him we will, until
he and his rebels are beaten and dead.' Long live our Sovereign Lady of
Holland!"

On the morrow, a murky December day, in the year 1417, the battle was
joined, as announced. On the low plain beyond the city, knights and
men-at-arms, archers and spearmen, closed in the shock of battle, and a
stubborn and bloody fight it was.

Seven times did the knights of Jacqueline, glittering in their steel
armor, clash into the rebel ranks; seven times were they driven back,
until, at last, the Lord of Arkell, with a fiery charge, forced them
against the very gates of the citadel. The brave von Brederode fell
pierced with wounds, and the day seemed lost, indeed, to the Lady of
Holland.

Then Jacqueline the Countess, seeing her cause in danger--like another
Joan of Arc, though she was indeed a younger and much more beautiful
girl general,--seized the lion-banner of her house, and, at the head
of her reserve troops, charged through the open gate straight into the
ranks of her victorious foes. There was neither mercy nor gentleness
in her heart then. As when she had cowed with a look Ajax, the lion,
so now, with defiance and wrath in her face, she dashed straight at the
foe.

Her disheartened knights rallied around her, and, following the
impetuous girl, they wielded axe and lance for the final struggle. The
result came quickly. The ponderous battle-axe of the knight of Leyenburg
crashed through the helmet of the Lord of Arkell, and as the brave young
leader fell to the ground, his panic-stricken followers turned and fled.
The troops of Jacqueline pursued them through the streets of Gorkum and
out into the open country, and the vengeance of the countess was sharp
and merciless.

But in the flush of victory wrath gave way to pity again, and the young
conqueror is reported to have said, sadly and in tears:

"Ah! I have won, and yet how have I lost!"

But the knights and nobles who followed her banner loudly praised her
valor and her fearlessness, and their highest and most