"There is war in that red scar of Bertrich's," said an officer to another.
Outside the Count flung himself on his horse, gave a brief word of command to his waiting troop, and galloped away at the head of his men.
He made no attempt to pursue the extremely crooked course of the upper river, but, knowing the country well, he left the Moselle some distance below Treves, and, taking a rude thoroughfare that was more path than road, followed it up hill and down dale through the forest. He was determined to reach Bruttig that night, hoping to finish the journey by moonlight, taking advantage of the long summer day and riding as hard as horseflesh could endure. When the day wore on to evening Bertrich saw that he had set to himself no easy task, for in the now pathless forest, speedy progress became more and more difficult, and when the moon rose, the density of the growth overhead allowed her light to be of little avail. Several times a halt was sounded and the bugle called the troop together, for now all attempt at regularity of march had been abandoned, but on each occasion the numbers thus gathered were fewer than when the former rally was held. In spite of his temporary loss of men, Bertrich, with stubborn persistence, determined to push on, even if he reached Bruttig alone. For an hour they pressed northward to find the river which they now needed as a guide, knowing they would come upon it at Bruttig or at least some short distance above or below it, but before the Moselle was reached they suddenly met an unexpected check. The outposts of an unseen band commanded them to stop and give account of themselves.
"Who dares to bar the way of the Archbishop's troops?" demanded Count Bertrich.
"It is the Archbishop's troops that we are here to stop. Will you fight or halt?" was the answer.
Bertrich, with his exhausted men and jaded horses, was in no condition to fight, yet was he most anxious to pursue his way, and get some information of his whereabouts, so he spoke with less imperiousness than his impulse at first prompted.
"I am Count Bertrich, commanding a division of his Lordship's army. I am on a peaceful mission, and, when I left his Lordship this morning, he had no quarrel with any. There has been some misunderstanding, and I should be loath to add to it by drawing sword unless I am attacked."
"You shall not be molested if you stay where you are. If, however, you attempt to advance, our orders are to fall upon you," said a voice from the darkness.
Noticing that the voice which now spoke was not the one that had first challenged, Count Bertrich said,