'Twas thus these cozening villains laid their scheme
Against his life, his youth, and comeliness:
Woe worth the end!—Old Play.

Three miles from the southern gate of Bommel, on the road which led to Ameldroyen, there stood a solitary auberge, or wayside tavern. It was named The Forester, from the circumstance that on a signboard it had a hideous representation of a hunter sounding a horn, and this passed for a likeness of Liderick du Bucq, the first forester of Flanders.

The signboard, moreover, informed the passers, in tolerably-spelt Flemish, that there was entertainment for man and horse, with good German beer within; while a green bush, which hung over the door in the more ancient fashion, announced that there also could be had the good wines of Alicant and Burgundy, with perhaps the strong waters of Anjou and Languedoc, i.e., brandy.

The country in its vicinity was lonely, and thinly populated. Save a wind-mill or two, and a gibbet on an eminence, with a man hanging thereon between the spectator and the sky, there was little to be seen but the dense forest, which then spread for miles along the banks of the river Waal, and away towards Bois-le-duc and Ravenstein.

This auberge, a rickety old house, the roof and walls of which some masses of ivy and woodbine alone seemed to hold together, was kept by Carl Langfanger, an old Brabancione, or disbanded soldier; and it was, in fact, one of the many secret rendezvous of Count Ludwig's military outlaws.

On the day after the night just described, three horsemen arrived at the auberge about noon, and within ten minutes of each other. They placed their horses in a shed behind the edifice, where a Brabancione, named Gustaf Vlierbeke, a very "ragged robin" indeed, acted as groom. They then met in an upper room, on the bare and dirty table of which wine, unasked for and unordered, was placed; and, we may mention, that their swords and daggers were not required by the slipshod tapster, though such was the custom in those days in all well-ordered taverns throughout Christendom.

These three personages were the exiled duke of Albany, the outlawed count of Endhoven, and that "Scottish worthy," Master James Achanna.

Their greetings were more brief than courteous, and after imbibing each a long horn of wine, they drew their chairs close to the table, as if to confer confidentially.

"More wine now, that we may not be interrupted hereafter," said Albany, as a preliminary.

"Have we not had enough?" asked Achanna, warily.

"Bah! I am not a hermit, and have no need of endeavouring to resemble old Anthony of Padua."

"Der teufel! our fair ones would not esteem you the more for seeking to do so," said Ludwig.

The duke smiled complacently, caressed his well-pointed moustache, and played with the tassels of his velvet cloak.

"Duke," said Ludwig, "you have sworn to love this lady?"

"Love her?" reiterated Albany, ponderingly.

"Yes; whether she will or not."

"Whom do you mean?"

"Teufel! who but Murielle Douglas!" said Ludwig, with surprise.

"Oh, of course, I swore it," said Albany, suddenly seeming to remember.

"Ah, there are moments in life when a man swears anything to a woman so pretty," replied Ludwig, burying his red nose in his wine-pot.

To elude discovery, as he knew well that the soldiers of the Dyck Graf and the halberdiers of the burgomaster were somewhat solicitous about his movements, Count Ludwig had adopted a new disguise. He was dressed like an Italian fantasin, in a jacket and pantaloons formed of long stripes of cloth of the Douglas colours, and wore on his breast a scutcheon, charged with those three stars which formed the paternal coat of the earl, for one of whose followers he wished pro temp. to pass. For this purpose he had smoothed over his usual ruffianly exterior, cut off his long bravo lock of hair, and, to enhance the respectability of his appearance, wore a large rosary.

"We have met, duke," said he; "so to the point. What have you to propose?"

"Simply, that we must get rid of our troublesome lover," replied Duke Robert, mixing two kinds of wine, Burgundy and Alicant, and draining them at a draught.

"But first, we must discover his residence," suggested Achanna.

"Carl Langfanger, our worthy tavernier, will soon do that for us," said Ludwig.

"I am not unskilful in the use of my sword," said the misguided duke of Albany; "I have already been victor in four duels, three in Paris and one in Flanders, and might be victorious in a fifth. Why should I not challenge and fight him? Count Ludwig, wouldst bear my glove to this man?"

"What, your highness—grace, I mean!" stammered Achanna, with one of his hateful smiles, "would you commit all that is at issue to the chance of an unlucky sword-thrust? Nay, nay, I'll to the earl—this must not be."

"So say I, sangdieu! Der teufel hole dich!" growled Count Ludwig, whose oaths were alternately French and Flemish; "I have a bone to pick with our traveller, and, by Gott in himmel! I will have satisfaction for the slash he gave me on the face."

"Please yourselves," said Albany, with a bored air, applying again to the wine, as if he was in haste to intoxicate himself; "only rid the earl, Lady Murielle, and me of him."

"We will arrange a most lover-like rendezvous, and as sure as the devil hath horns, we shall catch our amorous traveller," said Ludwig; "what say you, Messire Achanna, and you, Monseigneur, Mein Herr, or how der teufel am I to address you?"

"A rendezvous," repeated Achanna, "where?"

"Here."

"At this solitary auberge?"

"Der teufels braden! what would the man have? The more solitary the better, and where can a fitter place be found? My trusty Brabanciones all within call, and close by the wood with its wolves, ha! ha!" and Ludwig burst into a loud laugh, which expressed cruelty and ferocity, but not merriment.

"As for the snare, it is easy when we have this to bait our trap with," said Achanna, displaying the pearl ring, for the loss of which poor Murielle was then breaking her little heart. He then related how he became possessed of it, and with what intention.

"Good, good! ter teufel! it is admirable," shouted Ludwig, striking the rickety table with his clenched hand. "But after luring him here with this, what do you propose to do?"

Achanna glanced at the duke of Albany, who was already dozing off to sleep, with his flushed forehead resting on his hands, and said, "What do you propose—a combat at snick and snee?"

Ludwig ground his teeth with rage, at the recollection of that affair at Endhoven, and said, with a strange smile, "Listen: my Brabanciones are all very good fellows, but are very irritable and very excitable; and so, in a moment of their excitement and irritability, they may burn out our prisoner's eyes with this iron, when red hot," said the bantering ruffian, suddenly displaying a curious steel instrument, fashioned apparently for the express purpose of blinding, as it had the form of a spur, or the letter U with a handle, the points for entering the eyes being about two inches apart.

"He will die, and in torment!" exclaimed Albany, with an expression of disgust on his handsome, but tipsy face; "and if I engage in aught so rascally, may the Devil twist my neck!"

"I fear that is a task reserved for one of less rank," muttered the rash count of Endhoven, in a low voice.

"Say you, sir!" thundered Albany, starting to the full height of his tall figure, and turning the buckle of his belt behind him. As this was a challenge in those days, Ludwig changed colour.

"I pray your grace," urged Achanna, starting forward.

"Dost think I will permit this Flemish flouting-jack to make a jest of me?" said the duke furiously.

"Nay, mein Herr—Gott in himmel! I made no jest of you," said Ludwig, unwilling by a brawl to frustrate his own private objects, and future profit.

"Very well—very well—carbonado him if you please, but trouble me not on the subject," replied Albany, with an air of ennui, as he drained his cup again.

"This process of yours will certainly kill our man," said Achanna, in a low voice, as Albany sank his head on the table, already overcome with wine.

"Not immediately," replied the count, with a diabolical grimace. "My Brabanciones will tie him naked on an old bare-backed horse—place a blazing brand under its tail, and then set it loose, mad with pain and fear in the forest among wolves. Der Teufel! a rare thought! but not a word of all this to your soft-hearted duke of Albany," whispered Ludwig; "I do not think he would admire my rough mode for disposing of a rival. He would be for measuring swords with him quietly, and getting run through the body. But I—der Teufels braden! I have this slash on the face to avenge, and with the assistance of my friends, the wolves of the Waal, I shall do it amply! When Ludwig of Endhoven shows his teeth the wolves laugh!"

The singular cruelty of this proposal almost exceeded the malevolence of Achanna, who had no other idea than having Gray cut off by violent means; but as the victim stood in the path of his lord the earl, and a thousand crowns were the price of his removal, Achanna considered it a somewhat secondary matter how it was effected.

Carl Langfanger was despatched into the city of Bommel, with an accurate description of Gray, and of his Muscovite disguise, and with instructions to inquire at all the hostelries, to discover his present quarters. He was also entrusted with the ring of Murielle, which he was to deliver as his credential, and armed therewith, to request Sir Patrick to meet her near the auberge, named The Forester of Flanders, on the Ameldroyen road; and old Carl, a practised plotter, and most careful rascal, departed with confidence to discover their victim, and arrange the rendezvous.

"Are we safe in trusting this man, Carl?" asked Achanna.

"He is sure as he is secret," replied Ludwig; "I would have gone on this mission myself, but I must beware of that old devil the Dyck Graf; for Duke Arnold of Gueldres has sworn to punish me in the same fashion that Count Peter of Orscamp was punished by Baldwin With-the-Hatchet."

"How was that?"

"The poor count was frequently put to his shifts, as I am, and having fancied two bullocks, which belonged to a widow at Vandal, Baldwin ordered him to be cast in his armour into a cauldron of boiling oil, in the market-place of Bruges, where he perished miserably, before a mighty multitude."

"And Duke Arnold has set a price upon you?"

"A thousand guilders. So you see, my friend, I am of some value to the state."

So Achanna thought, and he began to conceive, that these guilders, if he could earn them, would form a very seasonable addition to the thousand crowns from the earl.

Meanwhile, he had no suspicion that the subtle outlaw with whom he plotted had conceived the idea of luring Murielle to a rendezvous there or elsewhere, by means of the same ring, after her lover had been disposed of; and thus, if the snare proved successful, he resolved to delude alike the duke and the earl, and bear her off for his own purposes to one of those wild forests with which that part of Flanders then abounded; and with all the secret paths, strengths, ruined castles, and lurking-places of which, his predatory life had long rendered him familiar.

Drowsily and tipsily the unfortunate duke of Albany slept, half reclined upon the table. While he was in this position, and during the absence of Achanna for more wine, Ludwig took care of his purse, and some other little matters of value, which he might otherwise have lost; and so night closed in upon the solitary auberge, while Langfanger, its proprietor, was pursuing his inquiries amid the busy streets of Bommel.