Ninove, a citadel then belonging to the Egmont family, was next reduced.  Here, too, the defence was more obstinate than could have been expected from the importance of the place, and as the autumn advanced, Parma’s troops were nearly starved in their trenches, from the insufficient supplies furnished them.  They had eaten no meat but horseflesh for weeks, and even that was gone.  The cavalry horses were all consumed, and even the chargers of the officers were not respected.  An aid-de-camp of Parma fastened his steed one day at the door of the Prince’s tent, while he entered to receive his commander’s instructions.  When he came out again, a few minutes afterwards, he found nothing but the saddle and bridle hanging where he had fastened the horse.  Remonstrance was useless, for the animal had already been cut into quarters, and the only satisfaction offered to the aid-de-camp was in the shape of a steak.  The famine was long familiarly known as the “Ninove starvation,” but notwithstanding this obstacle, the place was eventually surrendered.

An attempt upon Lochum, an important city, in Gelderland, was unsuccessful, the place being relieved by the Duke of Anjou’s forces, and Parma’s troops forced to abandon the siege.  At Steenwyk, the royal arms were more successful, Colonel Tassis, conducted by a treacherous Frisian peasant, having surprised the city which had so, long and so manfully sustained itself against Renneberg during the preceding winter.  With this event the active operations under Parma closed for the year.  By the end of the autumn, however, he had the satisfaction of numbering, under his command, full sixty thousand well-appointed and disciplined troops, including the large reinforcements recently despatched:  from Spain and Italy.  The monthly expense of this army-half of which was required for garrison duty, leaving only the other moiety for field Operations—­was estimated at six hundred and fifty thousand florins.  The forces under Anjou and the united provinces were also largely increased, so that the marrow of the land was again in fair way of being thoroughly exhausted by its defenders and its foes.

The incidents of Anjou’s administration, meantime, during the year 1582, had been few and of no great importance.  After the pompous and elaborate “homage-making” at Antwerp, he had, in the month of July, been formally accepted, by writing, as Duke of Guelders and Lord of Friesland.  In the same month he had been ceremoniously, inaugurated at Bruges as Count of Flanders—­an occasion upon which the Prince of Orange had been present.  In that ancient and stately city there had been, accordingly, much marching about under triumphal arches, much cannonading and haranguing, much symbol work of suns dispelling fogs, with other cheerful emblems, much decoration of ducal shoulders with velvet robes lined with weasel skin, much blazing of tar-barrels and torches.  In the midst of this event, an attempt was made upon