Again there was a pause in the royal ranks; again Aremberg suggested a stratagem and the dangerous nature of the ground.
But the Spanish officers were now beyond control.
Seeing the flight of the troops on the hillside (a flight that was, as Aremberg suspected, a snare), they believed the whole rabble of the "beggars" were in a rout before them, and rushed forward to attack and disperse the two squadrons of the main army.
As they dashed from the road and the wood, brandishing their swords and shouting to each other, man after man plunged into the morass, the treacherous grass gave way beneath them, while the deep pools left by the peat gatherers sucked in others to their necks.
In a few moments the entire advance guard of the Spaniards was entangled, helpless, and perishing in the swamp.
Louis now ordered up his musketeers, who opened a quick fire on the struggling enemy and drove them back again into the marsh.
Meanwhile, Braccamonte was bringing up his rearguard to the rescue. Louis, perceiving this, sent his concealed battalions round the base of the hill to cut off the Spanish.
Braccamonte, finding himself ambushed, and fresh contingents of the Netherlanders pouring in on his ranks, utterly lost his courage.
Shouting confused orders to his troop he turned and fled.
His men, surprised, left without a leader, were instantly driven back by the "beggars" and fell in helter-skelter confusion on to those already entrapped in the morass.