But the jealous sergeant consulted with Monsieur de Lamotte, saying:
“Sir, I suspect that this pilgrim is playing some trick upon us with his tale of a broken leg. All he wants is to have the chance of getting up into the cart with the girls. Order him rather to be left behind on the road.”
“Very well,” answered Monsieur de Lamotte.
So Ulenspiegel was left where he was in the ditch.
Some soldiers, who really believed that his leg was broken, were sorry for him because of his gaiety, and they left with him a two days’ ration of food and wine. And the girls would have got down and run to his assistance, but as this was forbidden they threw him all that was left of their castrelins.
As soon as the soldiers had disappeared in the distance Ulenspiegel, still in his pilgrim’s dress, recovered his liberty, purchased a horse, and rode like the wind by roads and by-paths to Bois-le-Duc.
When he told them the news of the approach of Monsieur de Lamotte, the townspeople flew to arms to the number of eight hundred men, and they chose out their leaders, and sent off Ulenspiegel, disguised as a charcoal-burner, to Antwerp to summon help from Hercule Brederode, surnamed the Toper.
And the soldiers of de Lamotte and de Beauvoir were able to gain no entry into Bois-le-Duc, most vigilant of cities, most valiant in defence.