Small detachments of cavalry had been sent forward; under Olivera and Acosta, to scour the roads and forests, and to disturb all ambuscades which might have been prepared.  From some stragglers captured by these officers, the plans of the retreating generals were learned.  The winter’s day was not far advanced, when the rearward columns of the states’ army were descried in the distance.  Don John, making a selection of some six hundred cavalry, all picked men, with a thousand infantry, divided the whole into two bodies, which he placed under command of Gonzaga and the famous old Christopher Mondragon.  These officers received orders to hang on the rear of the enemy, to harass him, and to do him all possible damage consistent with the possibility of avoiding a general engagement, until the main army under Parma and Don John should arrive.  The orders were at first strictly obeyed.  As the skirmishing grew hotter, however, Goazaga observed that a spirited cavalry officer, named Perotti, had already advanced, with a handful of men, much further within the reach of the hostile forces than was deemed expedient.  He sent hastily to recal the too eager chieftain.  The order, delivered in a tone more peremptory than agreeable, was flatly disobeyed.  “Tell Ottavio Gonzaga,” said Perotti, “that I never yet turned my back on the enemy, nor shall I now begin.  Moreover, were I ever so much inclined to do so, retreat is impossible.”  The retiring army was then proceeding along the borders of a deep ravine, filled with mire and water, and as broad and more dangerous than a river.  In the midst of the skirmishing, Alexander of Parma rode up to reconnoitre.  He saw at once that the columns of the enemy were marching unsteadily to avoid being precipitated into this creek.  He observed the waving of their spears, the general confusion of their ranks, and was quick to take advantage of the fortunate moment.  Pointing out to the officers about him the opportunity thus offered of attacking the retiring army unawares in flank, he assembled, with great rapidity, the foremost companies of cavalry already detached from the main body.  Mounting a fresh and powerful horse, which Camillo Monte held in readiness for him, he signified his intention of dashing through the dangerous ravine, and dealing a stroke where it was least expected, “Tell Don John of Austria,” he cried to an officer whom he sent back to the Commander-in-chief, “that Alexander of Parma has plunged into the abyss, to perish there, or to come-forth again victorious.”

The sudden thought was executed with lightning-like celerity.  In an instant the bold rider was already struggling through the dangerous swamp; in another, his powerful charger had carried him across.  Halting for a few minutes, lance in rest, till his troops had also forced their passage, gained the level ground unperceived, and sufficiently breathed their horses, he drew up his little force in a compact column.