The words of the Italian colonel sent a thrill through all who heard him.  Next in command under Capizucca was his camp-marshal, an officer who bore the illustrious name of Piccolomini—­father of the Duke Ottavio, of whom so much was to be heard at a later day throughout the fell scenes of that portion of the eighty years’ tragedy now enacting, which was to be called the Thirty Years’ War of Germany.  The camp-marshal warmly seconded the proposition of his colonel.  Mansfeld, pleased with such enthusiasm among his officers, yielded to their wishes, which were, in truth, his own.  Six companies of the Italian Legion were in his encampment while the remainder were stationed, far away, upon the bridge, under command of his son, Count Charles.  Early in the morning, before the passage across the dyke had been closed the veteran condottiere, pricking his ears as he snuffed the battle from afar, had contrived to send a message to his son.

“Charles, my boy,” were his words, “to-day we must either beat them or burst.”

Old Peter Ernest felt that the long-expected, long-deferred assault was to be made that morning in full force, and that it was necessary for the royalists, on both bridge and dyke, to hold their own.  Piccolomini now drew up three hundred of his Italians, picked veterans all, and led them in marching order to Mansfeld.  That general at the same moment, received another small but unexpected reinforcement.  A portion of the Spanish Legion, which had long been that of Pedro Pacchi, lay at the extreme verge of the Stabroek encampment, several miles away.  Aroused by the distant cannonading, and suspecting what had occurred, Don Juan d’Aquila, the colonel in command, marched without a moment’s delay to Mansfeld’s head-quarters, at the head of all the force he could muster—­about two hundred strong.  With him came Cardona, Gonzales de Castro, Toralva, and other distinguished officers.  As they arrived, Capizucca was just setting forth for the field.  There arose a dispute for precedence between the Italians and the Spaniards.  Capizucca had first demanded the privilege of leading what seemed a forlorn hope, and was unwilling to yield his claim to the new comer.  On the other hand, the Spaniards were not disposed to follow where they felt entitled to lead.  The quarrel was growing warm, when Aquila, seizing his Italian rival by the hand, protested that it was not a moment for friends to wrangle for precedence.

“Shoulder to shoulder,” said he, “let us go into this business, and let our blows rather fall on our enemies’ heads than upon each other’s.”  This terminated the altercation.  The Italians and Spaniards—­in battle array as they were—­all dropped on their knees, offered a brief prayer to the Holy Virgin, and then, in the best possible spirits, set forth along the dyke.  Next to fort Stabroek—­whence they issued—­was the Palisade Fort, nearly a mile removed, which the patriots had nearly carried, and between which and St. George, another mile farther on, their whole force was established.