Here the darkness was more intense than in the open, but by degrees their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, though at almost every step they stumbled over the slippery moss-grown roots that encumbered the ground in all directions.
For a distance of nearly a bow-shot the two adventurers pursued their way, till, plucking at his comrade's sleeve, Geoffrey came to a sudden standstill.
For full five minutes they listened, striving to detect above the confused noise of the French camp the sound of some unseen foe. A sudden rustling in the undergrowth caused the lad's heart to beat violently, while his right hand clutched the hilt of his dagger. Then came a sharp squeal of pain, and a hare, with a stoat at its throat, tore almost across the squire's feet.
Presently the twain came to a clearing, through which wandered a little brook. Here the ground was almost knee-deep in stiff clay, so that both men had to hold the tops of their shoes to prevent them being dragged off their feet by the tenacious slime. The crossing of the glade was a nerve-racking ordeal, since neither knew but that an invisible foe lurked in the thickets beyond.
Fortune favoured them, however, and unharmed they gained the friendly shelter of the furthermost wood.
Now they were abreast of the French outposts. Peering through the bushes, Geoffrey could see the mail-clad sentinels either sitting motionless on their horses or walking slowly to and fro to the accompaniment of a clanking and groaning of the joints of the harness and the squelching noise of the animals' hoofs in the mire.
The nearmost horseman was humming a chanson of Picardy, quite oblivious of the fact that two Englishmen were almost within a stone's throw of him; yet, though the cordon extended completely across the open ground, through some inexplicable error the French had utterly neglected to hold the woods on either side of the valley.
Resuming their cautious movements, Geoffrey and Gripwell skirted the second line of outposts, where a row of fires threw its weird light upon the crowd of soldiers, mainly engaged in drinking, singing, and gambling, while the position of the two daring Englishmen was rendered doubly hazardous by the constant procession of varlets and peasants who were engaged in cutting wood to feed the watch-fires.
Still the French camp seemed a long way off, though the silken tents of the nobles were now discernible in the glare of the huge pile of burning faggots.
"We have gone far enough," whispered the man-at-arms.