At length he approached an extensive forest, which stretched for miles on
either side.

Half a mile before he reached it the track divided.

He had for some little time eased his horse down to a walk, as he felt
that the wood would be the spot where he would in all probability be
attacked, and he needed that his steed should be possessed of its
utmost vigour.

At the spot where the track branched, a man in the guise of a mendicant
was sitting. He begged for alms, and Cuthbert threw him a small coin.

A sudden thought struck him as he heard a rustling in the bushes near.

"Which is the nearest and best road to Avignon?" he said.

"The right-hand road is the best and shortest," the beggar said. "The
other makes a long circuit, and leads through several marshes, which your
honour will find it hard to pass."

Cuthbert thanked him, and moved forward, still at a walk, along the
right-hand road.

When he had gone about 200 yards, and was hidden from the sight of the
man he had left--the country being rough, and scattered with clumps of
bushes--he halted, and, as he expected, heard the sound of horses' hoofs
coming on at full gallop along the other road.