But I vowed that Ruth should never suffer the way I did—and do. 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. ’ ‘Oh, she’ll be safe enough, Gerald. Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature.
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