had eaten in the
hostel, Sir Thibault called for the host and inquired of him the road
for the morrow, how it ran, and whether it were smooth.

"Fair sir," replied the innkeeper to the knight, "at the gate of this
town you will find a little wood. Beyond the wood a strong smooth road
runs for the whole day's journey."

Hearing this they asked no more questions, but the beds being laid
down, they went to their rest. The morrow broke full sweetly. The
pilgrims rose lightly from their beds as soon as it was day, and made
much stir and merriment. Sir Thibault rose also, since he might not
sleep, but his head was heavy. He therefore called his chamberlain,
and said,

"Rise quickly, and bid the company to pack the horses and go their
way. Thou shalt remain with me, and make ready our harness, for I am a
little heavy and disquieted."

The chamberlain made known to the sergeants the pleasure of their
lord, so that presently they took the road. In no great while Messire
Thibault and his dame got them from the bed, and arraying their
persons, followed after their household. The chamberlain folded the
bed linen, and it was yet but dawn, though warm and fair. The three
went forth through the gate of the city, those three together, with no
other companion save God alone, and drew near to the forest. When they
came close they found two roads, the one good, the other ill; so that
Sir Thibault said to his chamberlain,

"Put spurs to your horse, and ride swiftly after our people. Bid them
await our coming, for foul it is for lady and knight to pass through
this wood with so little company."

The servitor went speedily, and Messire Thibault entered the forest.
He drew rein beside the two roads, for he knew not which to follow.

"Wife," he said, "which way is ours?"

"Please God, the good," she answered.

Now in this wood were robbers, who spoiled the fair way, and made wide
and smooth the false, so that pilgrims should mistake and wander from
the path. Messire Thibault lighted from his horse. He looked from one
to the other, and finding the wrong way broader and more smooth than
the true, he cried,

"Wife, come now; in the name of God, this."

They had proceeded along this road for some quarter of a mile when the
path grew strict and narrow, and boughs made dark the way.

"Wife," said the knight, "I fear that we fare but ill."

When he had thus spoken he looked before him, and marked four armed
thieves, seated on four st