Half a mile before he reached it the track divided.
He had for some little time eased his horse down to a walk, as he felt that the wood would be the spot where he would in all probability be attacked, and he needed that his steed should be possessed of its utmost vigour.
At the spot where the track branched, a man in the guise of a mendicant was sitting. He begged for alms, and Cuthbert threw him a small coin.
A sudden thought struck him as he heard a rustling in the bushes near.
"Which is the nearest and best road to Avignon?" he said.
"The right-hand road is the best and shortest," the beggar said. "The other makes a long circuit, and leads through several marshes, which your honour will find it hard to pass."
Cuthbert thanked him, and moved forward, still at a walk, along the right-hand road.
When he had gone about 200 yards, and was hidden from the sight of the man he had left—the country being rough, and scattered with clumps of bushes—he halted, and, as he expected, heard the sound of horses' hoofs coming on at full gallop along the other road.
"Your master must have thought me young indeed," he said, "to try and catch me with such a transparent trick as that. I do not suppose that accursed page has more than ten men with him, and doubtless has placed five on each road. This fellow was placed here to see which track I would follow, and has now gone to give the party on the left hand the news that I have taken this way. Had it not been for him I should have had to run the gauntlet with four or five of my enemies. As it is, the path will doubtless be clear."
So saying, he turned his horse, galloped back to the spot where the tracks separated, and then followed the left-hand route.