army was utterly overthrown, and the Devil himself flew away with
the chieftains, body and soul.]

There was a vague tale that Louis, bleeding but not killed, had struggled
forth from the heap of corpses where he had been thrown, had crept to
the, river-side, and, while washing his wounds, had been surprised and
butchered by a party of rustics. The story was not generally credited,
but no man knew, or was destined to learn, the truth.

A dark and fatal termination to this last enterprise of Count Louis had
been anticipated by many. In that superstitious age, when emperors and
princes daily investigated the future, by alchemy, by astrology, and by
books of fate, filled with formula; as gravely and precisely set forth as
algebraical equations; when men of every class, from monarch to peasant,
implicitly believed in supernatural portents and prophecies, it was not
singular that a somewhat striking appearance, observed in the sky some
weeks previously to the battle of Mookerheyde, should have inspired many
persons with a shuddering sense of impending evil.

Early in February five soldiers of the burgher guard at Utrecht, being on
their midnight watch, beheld in the sky above them the representation of
a furious battle. The sky was extremely dark, except directly over:
their heads; where, for a space equal in extent to the length of the
city, and in breadth to that of an ordinary chamber, two armies, in
battle array, were seen advancing upon each other. The one moved rapidly
up from the north-west, with banners waving; spears flashing, trumpets
sounding; accompanied by heavy artillery and by squadrons of cavalry.
The other came slowly forward from the southeast; as if from an
entrenched camp, to encounter their assailants. There was a fierce
action for a few moments, the shouts of the combatants, the heavy