“He scents a true Breton,” said Du Guesclin, with a laugh. “Any news on the road, friend?”
The old man was studying Bertrand.
“Well, lording, the broom flower is in bloom, and little Kate, the ermine, is skipping and chuckling over the fight at Mivoie.”
Bertrand never flinched, but looked the peasant straight in the face.
“That is old news to me, friend,” he said.
The man grinned, and nodded his head mysteriously, with quaint sententiousness.
“Maybe, lording, you have not heard that the devil is loose again.”
“There are many devils in Brittany, father; we are possessed like the pigs in the Bible.”
“Eh, yes, but none so bad as Croquart. He has broken out of Josselin, they tell me, and is at Pontivy, with his free lances, swearing blood and burnings for Bamborough’s death.”
Bertrand straightened up, and took the news for its solid worth.