Then the brothers strode with light springy steps along the road which
would in time lead them to the great seaport city of Bordeaux, towards
which all the largest roads of the whole province converged.

The royal city of the Garonne was full forty leagues away -- over a
hundred British miles -- and the boys had never visited it yet, albeit
their dream had long been to travel thither on their feet, and see the
wonders of which travellers spoke. A day's march of ten leagues or more
was as nothing to them. Had the days been longer they would have done
more, but travelling in the dark through these forest-clad countries was
by no means safe, and the Father had bid them promise that they would
always strive to seek shelter ere the shades of night fell; for great
picks of wolves ravaged the forests of Gascony until a much later date,
and though the season of their greatest boldness and fierceness had not
yet come, they were customers not to be trifled with at any time, and a
hunting knife and a crossbow would go but a small way in defence if a
resolute attack were to be made by even half-a-dozen of the fierce beasts.

But the brothers thought not of peril as they strode through the clear
crisp air, directing their course more by the sun than by any other
guide, as they pursued their way engrossed in eager talk. They were
passing through the great grazing pastures, the Landes of Gascony, which
supplied England with so many of her best horses, and walking was easy
and they covered the ground fast. Later on would come dark stretches of
lonely forest, but here were smiling pasture and bright sunshine and the
brothers talked together of the golden future before them, of their
proud kinsmen at the King's Court, of the Roy Outremer himself, and of
Basildene and that other treacherous kinsman there. As they travelled
they debated within themselves whether it were better to seek first the