At this news all sprung to their saddles, since the brief winter’s day was all too short for that which they had to do, and Jacqueline with helmet on head and sword in hand, rode at their head.
Scarce an hour’s brisk riding brought them in sight of the army gathered from among those who opposed the Princess. There was much confusion evident among them, and it seemed as if they had but just learned of the approach of the Daughter of Holland, and were preparing to hold their own as best they might.
Straight as an arrow, forward to where his pennon showed the presence of her uncle, rode Jacqueline.
No need to shout encouragement to the brave men at her back, yet ever and again she would turn and call, “For love of Holland,” or “For the Virgin and St. James,” and ever and anon would come back the answering cry, “For love of Holland,” “For St. James.”
When almost within the flight of an arrow from the enemy, once again did Jacqueline turn, and this time her cry was borne back on the wind with the clearness of a trumpet,—
“For love of the Daughter of Holland.”
At this the hoarse shout that rose among her followers could have been heard a league away. Still keeping her horse’s head straight for that pennon she had marked so well, she sent her pages to the right and left, bidding the soldiers spread in a wide circle, and never draw rein till they had circled the enemy.
On they came like a whirlwind; the enemy, seeming not to know what manner of tactics they were like to meet, formed a compact body.
The rushing mass of men and horses, with Jacqueline at their head, swept madly on, nor paused nor swerved till they had flung themselves against the enemy. In a moment all was frightful confusion, men unhorsed and being trampled underfoot by the riderless steeds, and in many cases the horses suffering themselves from wounds that had fallen on them instead of their masters.
Twice, above all the tumult and din of metal when spear met shield or helmet, could be heard the cry, “For the Daughter of Holland,” and each time it brought the answering shout. At these moments even the enemy seemed to waver, as if they had not dreamed that their hereditary Princess could be there in the thick of battle in her own person.