From time to time some dark body would rush across the track or dive into the forest, once indeed a musket-shot was fired at them randomly. These were marauders hastening to the scene of conflict, eager to participate in the spoils.
"We must ride quicker," said Geoffrey; "soon the gueux will know of our presence and we shall be pursued."
"Beware," said the peddler in reply, "sometimes there are fallen trees across the track. We rejoin the main road in a few minutes."
Geoffrey saw the wisdom of this advice, and they rode stealthily forward.
Presently they emerged into a clearing and, to their joy, saw the great military road in front of them. Once upon it they put their horses to their fullest speed, there were no further barricades to dread, the peddler told them.
In half-an-hour they were in the little town of Busigney, a town held to be neutral by both the contending armies, for it was the patrimony of Mary the Duchess of Burgundy, now the Regent of the Netherlands for Philip. In a few minutes they had drawn up in front of a little hotel, "L'Eperon d'Or," and the peddler, dismounting, entered the house. He quickly returned, accompanied by the "maitre d'hotel."
"Here, my lord," he said to Geoffrey, "you can refresh your horses and yourselves also, if you need it, yet I urge you to remember that your foes are near, therefore you may not tarry long."
"We owe you a thousand thanks," said Geoffrey. "Will you not take refreshment with us?"
"Nay, my lord, it is well-nigh midnight, and I must seek a chirurgeon this night to set my wounded hand in order."
"Ah! I had forgotten your grievous hurt," said Geoffrey. "You are a brave and gallant man, Mr. Peddler, may I not add a little golden salve to the remedy?" and he produced his purse.