I was glad, therefore, when Xaintrailles himself rode one day to the door of our lodging in Guermigny, strode clanging into our chamber, and asked if we were alone?  We telling him that none was within ear-shot, he sat him down on the table, playing with his dagger hilt, and, with his hawk’s eye on Barthelemy, asked, “You know this land well?”

“I have ridden over it, in war or peace, since I was a boy.”

“How far to Lihons?”

“A matter of two leagues.”

“What manner of country lies between?”

“Chiefly plain, rude and untilled, because of the distresses of these times.  There is much heath and long grasses, a great country for hares.”

“Know you any covert nigh the road?”

“There runs a brook that the road crosses by a bridge, midway between Guermigny and Lihons.  The banks are steep, and well wooded with such trees and undergrowth as love water.”

“You can guide me thither?”

“There is no missing the road.”

“God could not have made this land better for me, if He had asked my counsel,” said Xaintrailles.  “You can keep your own?”

“Nom Dieu, yea!” said Barthelemy.

“And your Scots friend I can trust.  A good-day to you, and thanks many.”

Thereupon he went forth.

“What has he in his mind?” I asked Barthelemy.

“Belike an ambush.  The Duke of Burgundy lies at Peronne, and has mustered a great force.  Lihons is midway between us and Peronne, and is in the hands of Burgundy.  I deem Xaintrailles has tidings that they intend to ride from Peronne to Lihons to-night, and thence make early onfall on us to-morrow.  Being heavy-pated men of war, and bemused with their strong wine, they know not, belike, that we have more with us than the small garrison of Guermigny.  And we are to await them on the road, I doubt not.  You shall see men that wear your cross of St. Andrew, but not of your colour.”

I shame not to say that of bushments in the cold dawn I had seen as much as I had stomach for, under Paris.  But if any captain was wary in war, and knew how to discover whatsoever his enemy designed, that captain was Xaintrailles.  None the less I hoped in my heart that his secret tidings of the Burgundian onfall had not come through a priest, and namely a cordelier.

Dawn found us mounted, and riding at a foot’s-pace through the great plain which lies rough and untilled between Guermigny and Lihons.  All grey and still it was, save for a cock crowing from a farmstead here and there on the wide wold, broken only by a line of trees that ran across the way.

Under these trees, which were mainly poplars and thick undergrowth of alders about the steep banks of a little brook, we were halted, and here took cover, our men lying down.

“Let no man stir, or speak, save when I speak to him, whatever befalls, on peril of his life,” said Xaintrailles, when we were all disposed in hiding.  Then touching me on the shoulder that I should rise, he said—­