Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but nevertheless the thing was possible. . “Women are mocked,” she said. There was no mistaking his intentions this time. Noiselessly, his booted feet stepping with careful restraint, he started forward, signalling to Roding to follow. This fall saved him, for the horsemen passed over him. My motive in coming hither is to serve you, and save your life. She acted as her mother had taught her to.
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