The boar was actually excellent. I had it on a slice of bread, with coarse mustard. 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.
