So onward we swept, till the night closed down, till the stars shone clear above us, and a young moon made the track of the road just visible. The horses grew weary at last, but we pressed them, hoping to make our relay by midnight. Once we were halted at a forking of the way till Gunter found a cabin and a grumbling peasant. I knew that Ilsa’s head was hanging heavily long before we saw the great towers of Fulda traced against the violet-black sky. The gates of the town were already closed, but Adolf knew of a kind of inn outside the walls, and hither we turned, just after the great abbey clock within the ramparts sent twelve strokes pealing into the silent night. Much ado we had to rouse host or horseboys. However, at last convinced we were no bandits, there was a racing with lanterns and unbarring of doors, and we clattered into the courtyard. “Eight horses in two hours, mine host,” was Moritz’s order, banging his sword as he spoke it; “and the fiends to pay if they are not fresh or are late.” “Your Lordship commands the impossible,” was the deprecating answer. “It is scarce two hours since a great French gentleman rode away with our best, and his own beasts had been ridden from Marburg.” “From Marburg? And when did he set forth?” “Why, one of his grooms swore he had started at dawn, but near Ehringhaus his Lordship’s saddle-girth parted, so that he had a pretty fall, being a gentleman of weight, and they had much delay ere they could ride again. His Lordship was cursing like the Grand Turk’s janizaries all the time he tarried here, although whether from pain or at the delay I know not. I have none of his language.” We all breathed easier. Again heaven had prospered us. I fear I had no great grief at the posterior pangs of his Eminenza di Forli. We had made up most of the chase, but to wait till dawn while our own horses were resting was impossible. We argued long with the landlord. Money and threats could not move him. “I have no horses,” was all his answer. Moritz was desperate, but I knew one last arrow. “Master Host,” spoke I, after sullen argument, “will you still say ‘no horses’ when I say that saying that means a heretic’s death for Dr. Luther?” “Ei! Dr. Luther?” and instantly he blew another tune. So I told him for what wagers we were casting, and in a twinkling all was changed. “Dr. Luther to the stake? Oh! the glozing papist dogs! Horses you shall have, though I pillage every stable in Fulda.”