“Listen.”
Every eye was on him.
“Do you remember how the Sieur de Rohan cheated us out of our spoil at Guingamp?”
“Curse him, captain! Are we likely to forget it?”
Their vindictiveness was full of mischief. They guessed what Bertrand had to say to them.
“Well, gentlemen and free companions, why should we not have our share of the bargain? It is possible that we can plunder the place, and make a bonfire of it for the sake of the seigneur’s soul.”
The suggestion had been seized even before it had passed Bertrand’s lips, and the men caught their leader’s spirit. Bertrand was in one of his reckless moods, when he was ready to lead his fellows into any mischief under the sun. They cheered him, and began tightening up their harness and looking to their arms. Bertrand was as grim and strenuous as any. The game pleased him that day, and Arletta had his smiles as he came to her to lace his bassinet.
“Give me a kiss, wench,” he said.
She gave him three, and a brave hug, laughing wickedly as he chucked her chin.
“The black dog has a holiday, lording,” she said.