By Pike and Dyke: a Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic

by G. A. Henty

The last were not the least efficient portion of the garrison. All were armed with sword, musket, and dagger, and were led by Kanau Hasselaer, a widow of distinguished family, who at the head of her female band took part in many of the fiercest fights of the siege, both upon and without the walls.

The siege commenced badly. In the middle of December the force of some 3500 men assembled at Leyden set out under the command of De la Marck, the former admiral of the sea beggars. The troops were attacked on their march by the Spaniards, and a thousand were killed, a number taken prisoners, and the rest routed.

Among the captains was a brave officer named Van Trier, for whom De la Marck offered two thousand crowns and nineteen Spanish prisoners. The offer was refused. Van Trier was hanged by one leg until he was dead, upon one of the numerous gibbets erected in sight of the town; in return for which De la Marck at once executed the nineteen Spaniards. On the 18th of December Don Frederick's batteries opened fire upon the northern side, and the fire was kept up without intermission for three days. As soon as the first shot was fired, a crier going round the town summoned all to assist in repairing the damages as fast as they were made.

The whole population responded to the summons. Men, women, and children brought baskets of stones and earth, bags of sand and beams of wood, and these they threw into the gaps as fast as they were made. The churches were stripped of all their stone statues, and these too were piled in the breaches. The besiegers were greatly horrified at what they declared to be profanation; a complaint that came well from men who had been occupied in the wholesale murder of men, women, and children, and in the sacking of the churches of their own religion. Don Frederick anticipated a quick and easy success. He deemed that this weakly fortified town might well be captured in a week by an army of 30,000 men, and that after spending a few days slaughtering its inhabitants, and pillaging and burning the houses, the army would march on against the next town, until ere long the rebellion would be stamped out, and Holland transformed into a desert.

At the end of three days' cannonade the breach, in spite of the efforts of the besieged, was practicable, and a strong storming party led by General Romero advanced against it. As the column was seen approaching the church bells rang out the alarm, the citizens caught up their arms, and men and women hurried to the threatened point. As they approached the Spaniards were received with a heavy fire of musketry; but with their usual gallantry the veterans of Spain pressed forward and began to mount the breach. Now they were exposed not only to the fire of the garrison, but to the missiles thrown by the burghers and women. Heavy stones, boiling oil, and live coals were hurled down upon them; small hoops smeared with pitch and set on fire were dexterously thrown over their heads, and after a vain struggle, in which many officers were killed and wounded, Romero, who had himself lost an eye in the fight, called off his troops and fell back from the breach, leaving from three to four hundred dead behind him, while but a half dozen of the townsmen lost their lives.

Upon the retreat of the Spaniards the delight in the city was immense; they had met the pikemen of Spain and hurled them back discomfited, and they felt that they could now trust themselves to meet further assaults without flinching.

To Ned's surprise his aunt, when the alarm bells rung, had sallied out from her house accompanied by the two girls. She carried with her half a dozen balls of flax, each the size of her head. These had been soaked in oil and turpentine, and to each a stout cord about two feet long was attached. The girls had taken part in the work of the preceding day, but when she reached the breach she told them to remain in shelter while she herself joined the crowd on the walls flanking the breach, while Ned took part in the front row of its defenders. Frau Plomaert was slow, but she was strong when she chose to exert herself, and when the conflict was at its thickest she lighted the balls at the fires over which caldrons of oil were seething, and whirling them round her head sent them one by one into the midst of the Spanish column.

"Three of them hit men fairly in the face," she said to one of her neighbours, "so I think I have done: my share of today's work."

She then calmly descended the wall, joined her daughters and returned home, paying no attention to the din of the conflict at the breach, and contended that she had done all that could be expected of her. On reaching home she bade the girls take to their knitting as usual, while she set herself to work to prepare the midday meal.

A few days later the Prince of Orange sent from Sassenheim, a place on the southern extremity of the lake, where he had now taken up his headquarters, a force of 2000 men, with seven guns and a convoy of wagons with ammunition and food towards the town, under General Batenburgh. This officer had replaced De la Marck, whose brutal and ferocious conduct had long disgraced the Dutch cause, and whom the prince, finding that he was deaf alike to his orders and to the dictates of humanity, had now deprived of his commission. Batenburgh's expedition was no more fortunate than that of De la Marck had been.