He wasn’t altogether sure he believed that; he’d never had any great liking for yellow-hairs himself. But he enjoyed throwing it in the innkeeper’s face and watching the fellow have to paste on a smile and pretend he agreed. “Just as you say, General,” he replied, as if each word tasted bad.

“Just as I say?” Guildenstern echoed complacently. “Well, of course.”

When the innkeeper took him up to his bedchamber over the dining hall, he found it a rough match for the supper he’d had: not splendid, but good enough. “Won’t find anything finer this side of Rising Rock,” the innkeeper said.

“No doubt.” Guildenstern’s voice was dry; there weren’t any more towns between Whiteside and Rising Rock. But he put that out of his mind, for something else was in it: “Send me up the prettier of your girls, the one with the freckles, to warm my bed tonight.”

“With the freckles? That’s Lindy.” The innkeeper’s smile went from deferential to rather nasty. “Can’t just send her up, now can I, sir? Not if she’s free, I should say. She’ll have to decide all by herself if she wants to come up here.”

“By the gods!” General Guildenstern exploded. “That’s taking things too far, don’t you think?” The innkeeper just stood there. “Oh, all right,” Guildenstern said with poor grace. “Ask her, then.”

He wondered if he’d made a mistake. If the girl said no, he would never live it down. But Lindy knocked on his door a few minutes later. As soon as he closed it behind her, she pulled her shift off over her head. Guildenstern enjoyed himself. If she didn’t, she was a reasonably good actress.

Afterwards, she leaned up on one elbow beside him, so that the soft, pink tip of her bare breast poked him in the shoulder. “You trounce our lords,” she said earnestly. “Trounce ’em good, and every blond girl in the kingdom’ll open her legs for you.”