The headquarters of this party was at Dordrecht, the one city which refused to pay homage to Jacqueline. Here in Dordrecht the leaders of the opposing party were joined by one of the uncles of Jacqueline, known as “John the Pitiless,” who was eager to rob his niece of her inheritance. He proposed to be appointed governor, and in this way gradually get into his own hands the whole power.
Now indeed Jacqueline showed that she was strong at heart, for though but sixteen, she immediately took steps in person to suppress all such designs on the part of her uncle, and levied troops, gathered supplies, and started towards rebellious Dordrecht.
Right bravely she looked, our little Princess, as she rode at the head of her troops, and ever from time to time she turned to her mother with a bright smile, and some such word as—
“Courage, dear Madame, ever saw you troops with braver front than ours?”
Or, after a pause,—
“Think you that mine uncle of Burgundy will expect to see us in person, come to defend our rights?”
“Thou art my brave girl. Wouldst that thy father wert here to guard and guide thee!”
But her mother looked anxious, and as she rode in her litter near her daughter, it was she who from time to time called to her side those brave nobles who had espoused her daughter’s cause, and to whose advice she looked to bring the assault to a successful conclusion.
After the first day’s march Jacqueline’s bright confidence was shaken. Wearied with being all day in the saddle and bearing the weight of her suit of armour, even though the shirt was of the finest Milan steel and flexible and light, Jacqueline dismissed all her attendants, and begged her mother to bide with her for a space before going to rest.
When all were gone and they were alone together and the curtains to the tent secured, poor Jacqueline, but a tired girl after all, cast herself down beside her mother, and hid her face in her lap.