“Ready, sirs?”
A growl and a loosening of swords came in response.
“Good. Keep your tongues quiet. We must hold to the trees till we have the tower in sight.”
He was spurring on his horse when he remembered Arletta, and drew rein again with an impatient frown.
“Here, one of you look after the girl. Keep her safe in the woods till we have finished.”
Arletta, jealous and very miserable, held out her hands to him with a sharp cry.
“Lording, I am not afraid—”
“What devil’s nonsense now! Back, I say! Am I to be obeyed?”
Arletta looked at Bertrand’s face, and slunk away as though he had smitten her. Tiphaïne of the tower had all his tenderness. She only cumbered him, and his passionate impatience hurt her heart.
“Off! I can look to myself,” she said, as one of the men came to take her bridle. “Go forward and fight; I’ll be a clog on none of you.”