Right pleased was he at the discovery, though well he wondered what it might mean, and he made haste to ask Hansei about the matter. Then did he hear how, two days before, a company of knights and others from the castle, riding in chase of Elise and himself, had fallen in with an outriding party of Rudolf’s men, and there had been fighting. “Ay,” said Wulf, remembering, “and there at hand were we when that fighting began.” “Glad am I that we knew it not,” Hansei cried. “For the most part of the emperor’s men were slain or taken prisoner, and few escaped to carry word to the convent; but with them ran I: for I had small stomach to fight ’gainst the lawful rulers of this land, and thou a hunted man beside.” Then did Hansei ask Wulf of his faring in the woods, whereupon Wulf, as they marched, told him all the story, and how the outcast had come to warn him, and of how the poor fellow had been like to die there by the smithy, and how he had cared for him. But Hansei was filled with dread at that part of the tale, for he feared for Wulf that he had given shelter to the traitor, as he believed Bell-Hutten to be. “Nay; but he is a fellow-man who risked his life for me,” Wulf said. “But a black sinner was he, curst of God and men,” Hansei answered. “And what says the priest o’ Sundays? Is’t not that we should hate evil?” “To hate evil, surely,” said Wulf, soberly; “yet not to forget, as we are men, where evil touches good; for this does it, at one point and another, even as never a bane groweth, here in the forest, but its unbane lives near neighbor to it. And it were foolishness, Hansei, if nothing more, to let the thought that he was a sinner hinder our helping a fellow in need.” “Better foolishness than sin,” muttered Hansei, turning a bit sullen at the reproof. “’Tis not so certain,” replied Wulf. “For between sin and foolishness there lies this difference: that God forgiveth our sins an we repent; but our foolishness is like to get i’ the grain of us at last, and naught kills it then but that we die ourselves.” So talking, the two kept pace with the marching company, until, by nightfall, they came up with the other party, and camp was made, well on the road toward the Swartzburg. No fires were built; for Rudolf of Hapsburg was minded, if possible, to come close before the castle gates ere those within were aware; but every man cared for his own needs as best he might, and before long the whole host was sleeping, save for the watchers. It was nigh upon daybreak when a wild alarum went through the camp, so that every man sprang to his feet and grasped his weapon as he ran forward in the darkness to learn what the matter was. The cries of men, the clashing of weapons and armor, the shrill screams of wounded horses, came up on every side, while so dark was it that for a little time the emperor’s soldiers scarce knew friend from foe as they pressed on, half dazed.