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. Aroused by the sound of the church bells, he resolved, at whatever risk, to attend Divine service. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day.
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