"He was always over-fond of laying wagers," yawned d'Acunha. "He is
probably betting his head on this Irish wild-goose chase."

"I will burn a candle," said Bertrand d'Aiguerra, "to any god of luck who
will send that caitiff where he gets himself killed. If he were not one of
us he would not be such a nuisance. His mercenaries will be the ruin of
us. The people were touchy enough before, but now they begin to think we
are all birds of the same black feather."

"He is only half Auvergnais," objected Savaric. "The other half is
Sicilian, I believe. A man cannot be half a gentleman, can he? I will
admit that Biterres desires to live like a gentleman,--according to his
own ideas of one. He has not been the same man since he was taken by the
Moors. He was never honest, but that seemed to warp his nature as well as
his body. He learned things that it does no man any good to know."

"Let us hope that Saint Patrick will dispose of him for the good of his
Irish," remarked Enrique de Montfaucon. "They say that the Plantagenet
will do no more than give letters patent to any Norman adventurer who
takes up Dermot's cause. I think he has his hands full with his own sons."

Ranulph listened to this conversation with interest. The ill-famed leader
of mercenaries had aspired to the hand of Lady Philippa while she was yet
a child--and had been brusquely dismissed by her father. He lived now by
hiring himself and his troops to any ruler who had a war on hand and would
pay his price. In peaceful intervals they lived as they could.

The Count was talking to Gualtier Giffard about the Irish venture.

"If the Normans rule Ireland," he observed, "your fortunes may improve. A