"Who the devil art thou?" was the first reply of the cavalier, who appeared to have drank more wine than was beneficial to his faculties of perception; "Who the devil art thou? What! Master Prevot? Give you good day; give you good day--night, that is to say--or day it may be, too; for, by my faith, it is after cock-crow. What, going your rounds? Ever watchful, Master Prevot, eh? What news of the good city?"
"Nothing stirring, nothing stirring," replied Maillotin du Bac; "no news at all, except that the eschevins hanged a man yesterday, without my help. But what news of the camp, I say; and how came you from it?"
"Ay, there is the mischief," said the soldier.
"What! no new defeat?" interrupted Maillotin du Bac, his wish, very likely, being father to the thought.
"Defeat! No, no; no defeat, man!" answered the soldier; "never were we better. A glorious army, posted strongly, the town almost reduced by famine, and nothing but a handful of raw Switzers come to relieve it. There will be a battle before many days are over; and Duke Charles will cut up the churls like mincemeat. But the mischief is, that I should be sent away before it is fought."
"So, then, there has been no battle after all," exclaimed the Prevot. "Well, God send it a good issue, when it does come. Good night, good friend, I must on upon my way."
"Good night! good night!" replied the soldier; "faith, I must on my way, too; for I have letters from the duke, and from the Count de Chimay, for my good Lord of Imbercourt, and, somehow, I met with three good companions at Alost, who wasted my time over their cursed pottle-pots. Good night, good night," and so saying, he rode on.
"Ha!" said the Prevot to himself, as he walked towards his own dwelling; "so, that scheme is all vain, and we must try the other, though it will be both difficult and dangerous to get any one to give him the dose. I had rather that it had been something public, too, if it had but been to wring his pride."
Thus muttering as he went, the Prevot now trod his way homeward. The soldier and his war-horse were admitted into the court of the Lord of Imbercourt's hotel. The streets of Ghent resumed their solitude and silence; and the night between the ninth and tenth of January ended in peace.
No small activity was observable, however, the next morning in the precincts of the court. By seven o'clock the Lord of Imbercourt was on horseback, and proceeding towards the palace, at which Margaret Duchess of Burgundy, and sister to Edward IV. of England, had arrived the day before. The Princess Mary, too, was expected from the side of Bruges. But, nevertheless, two messengers were sent off, at different times, in that direction; and it was supposed that they bore her the intelligence of an approaching battle, and recommended her immediate return to the city.