ELEVEN
The bread and ham was long gone, and Bernard feared he'd run out of water soon, as he'd used most of it to soak the food into something soft enough to chew. Gosse had not returned from his night in the baron's bed. He wondered what Gosse would say if he told him he'd spent many nights in a king's bed, and it was not something he'd wish on any man. Or boy, though his father had wished it on him. Had his father known about the King's tastes when he'd sent Bernard to court?
Bernard wasn't sure what was worse – if his father had known, but sent him anyway, or if he didn't know and probably wouldn't believe a word of it if Bernard told him the truth.
Ah, what did it matter, anyway? His father was on his way home, the King and his court would never come here, and Bernard was likely to
