The boar was actually excellent. I had it on a slice of brown bread, with coarse mustard and some cheese, and washed it all down with small beer. But the foggy chill from the bog lingered in my bones, and I’d have liked to disperse it with a hot meal.
The men-at-arms were a rude bunch. I think they shape up when the baronet is around, or one of the four knights, but not for me. Well, and why should they. What cares a low ranking soldier for the regard of a scholar? I can tell you: nothing. I was glad the sergent was around to remind them to at least pretend to be hospitable.
