Gerard warned by recent peril1, rose before daybreak and waked Martin. The old soldier was astonished. He thought Gerard had escaped by the window last night. Being consulted as to the best way for him to leave the country and elude2 pursuit, he said there was but one road safe. “I must guide you through the great forest to a bridle-road I know of. This will take you speedily to a hostelry, where they will lend you a swift horse; and then a day's gallop3 will take you out of Holland. But let us start ere the folk here quit their beds.”
Peter's house was but a furlong and a half from the forest. They started, Martin with his bow and three arrows, for it was Thursday; Gerard with nothing but a stout4 oak staff Peter gave him for the journey.
Margaret pinned up her kirtle and farthingale, for the road was wet. Peter went as far as his garden hedge with them, and then with more emotion than he often bestowed5 on passing events, gave the young man his blessing6.
The sun was peeping above the horizon as they crossed the stony7 field and made for the wood. They had crossed about half, when Margaret, who kept nervously8 looking back every now and then, uttered a cry, and, following her instinct, began to run towards the wood, screaming with terror all the way.
Ghysbrecht and his men were in hot pursuit.
Resistance would have been madness. Martin and Gerard followed Margaret's example. The pursuers gained slightly on them; but Martin kept shouting, “Only win the wood! only win the wood!”
They had too good a start for the men on foot, and their hearts bounded with hope at Martin's words, for the great trees seemed now to stretch their branches like friendly arms towards them, and their leaves like a screen.
But an unforeseen danger attacked them. The fiery9 old burgomaster flung himself on his mule10, and, spurring him to a gallop, he headed not his own men only, but the fugitives11. His object was to cut them off. The old man came galloping12 in a semicircle, and got on the edge of the wood, right in front of Gerard; the others might escape for aught he cared.
Margaret shrieked13, and tried to protect Gerard by clasping him; but he shook her off without ceremony.
Ghysbrecht in his ardour forgot that hunted animals turn on the hunter; and that two men can hate, and two can long to kill the thing they hate.
Instead of attempting to dodge14 him, as the burgomaster made sure he would, Gerard flew right at him, with a savage15, exulting16 cry, and struck at him with all his heart, and soul and strength. The oak staff came down on Ghysbrecht's face with a frightful17 crash, and laid him under his mule's tail beating the devil's tattoo18 with his heels, his face streaming, and his collar spattered with blood.
The next moment the three were in the wood. The yell of dismay and vengeance19 that burst from Ghysbrecht's men at that terrible blow which felled their leader, told the fugitives that it was now a race for life or death.
“Why run?” cried Gerard, panting. “You have your bow, and I have this,” and he shook his bloody20 staff.
“Boy!” roared Martin; “the GALLOWS21! Follow me,” and he fled into the wood. Soon they heard a cry like a pack of hounds opening on sight of the game. The men were in the wood, and saw them flitting amongst the trees. Margaret moaned and panted as she ran; and Gerard clenched22 his teeth and grasped his staff. The next minute they came to a stiff hazel coppice. Martin dashed into it, and shouldered the young wood aside as if it were standing23 corn.
Ere they had gone fifty yards in it they came to four blind paths.
Martin took one. “Bend low,” said he. And, half creeping, they glided24 along. Presently their path was again intersected with other little tortuous25 paths. They took one of them. It seemed to lead back; but it soon took a turn, and, after a while, brought them to a thick pine grove26, where the walking was good and hard. There were no paths here; and the young fir-trees were so thick, you could not see three yards before your nose.
When they had gone some way in this, Martin sat down; and, having learned in war to lose all impression of danger with the danger itself, took a piece of bread and a slice of ham out of his wallet, and began quietly to eat his breakfast.
The young ones looked at him with dismay. He replied to their looks.
“All Sevenbergen could not find you now; you will lose your purse, Gerard, long before you get to Italy; is that the way to carry a purse?”
Gerard looked, and there was a large triangular27 purse, entangled28 by its chains to the buckle29 and strap30 of his wallet.
“This is none of mine,” said he. “What is in it, I wonder?” and he tried to detach it; but in passing through the coppice it had become inextricably entangled in his strap and buckle. “It seems loath31 to leave me,” said Gerard, and he had to cut it loose with his knife. The purse, on examination, proved to be well provided with silver coins of all sizes, but its bloated appearance was greatly owing to a number of pieces of brown paper folded and doubled. A light burst on Gerard. “Why, it must be that old thief's; and see! stuffed with paper to deceive the world!”
The wonder was how the burgomaster's purse came on Gerard.
They hit at last upon the right solution. The purse must have been at Ghysbrecht's saddle-bow, and Gerard rushing at his enemy, had unconsciously torn it away, thus felling his enemy and robbing him, with a single gesture.
Gerard was delighted at this feat32, but Margaret was uneasy............