The fire yet burned in Tom’s veins.  He felt no abatement of his powers.  He declared himself well able for the march, and was soon helped into his torn garments, with wet rags to protect his bleeding back from rough contact.  The monks gave him to drink from a flask that contained some cordial, which was marvellous in subduing his natural fatigue; and there was a mess of broth awaiting him below, of which both he and the monks partook, ere setting forth upon their moonlight march.

As for Montacute and his followers, they remained in the room above, and made no effort to delay the travellers.  They had been worsted at every point, and seemed to be aware of it.

It was a strange experience for Tom, this trudge over the hard, frozen snow, with his two cowled and gowned companions.  It seemed to him afterwards like a vision of the night, full of a strange oppression and pain.  He started forth with undiminished strength, as he thought; but ere long he felt as though leaden weights were fastened to his feet, as though some strange, uncanny beast were seated upon his chest, impeding his breathing, and paralyzing his heart.  The smart of his raw back became more and more intolerable with every mile, and the awful whiteness of the moon upon the limitless plains of snow seemed to make the whole expanse reel and dance before his giddy eyes.

How the last part of the journey was performed, and what befell him when he reached the monastery, he never afterwards remembered.  As a matter of fact, he was already in the grip of a burning fever; and for weeks he lay sick upon his pallet bed, tended by the kindly monks.  Indeed, the spring had penetrated even to those rugged heights ere he had recovered strength enough to think of travelling once more; and Lord Claud had come to seek him, and bring him word of his own successful journey with the despatches of the Duke.

When Lord Claud had gone stumbling down the hillside, in affected illness, he soon found, rather to his dismay, that Montacute himself was following him.  He therefore abandoned his intention of seeking battle with his foe, knowing that in brute strength and weight and muscle his adversary was his superior; and he had gone to the inn and put himself to bed, letting all around him believe thoroughly in his illness.  Montacute had remained on the watch for a time; but finding, as he supposed, that there was no feigning in the matter, he had gone back to his appointed meeting place with the men sent after Tom.  He had paid a fellow to keep watch upon Lord Claud, and send immediate word if he recovered and left his bed; but this man was one of those whose hearts had been won by Lord Claud’s pleasant manners, and he at once reported the matter to him, and asked what he should do.

Between them it was arranged that they should change clothing, and, with the connivance of the landlord, should exchange identities.  The young peasant should lie in bed, and be tended as the sick stranger; and Claud, in peasant’s dress, should flee over the other pass, leave word with the monks as to the peril of his friend, and make his way to Savoy with all the speed he could.