Chapter 9

Were his trade routes so compromised by the wars? Was the king adding a new tax on Uncle Guillaume’s imports? Henri was confused. It couldn’t be because of his morning cookie disaster? Surely, he’d been saucier with the head chefs and apprentices. And his tongue was what Uncle Guillaume praised him for always, that and his cooking.

“How goes the apprenticeship.” His uncle finally raised his eyes, but they pierced through Henri like lightning stabbing a meadow. The fire in the fireplace whined, held down by a draft.

“Magnificently.” Henri struggled to beam. Choking on his spit like a bitter orange slice.

Uncle Guillaume raised his empty goblet expectantly, “Oh?”

Henri found the bottle standing sentry over the plate of swan carcass. Even the meat of its neck had not been spared his uncle’s appetite. Henri filled his uncle’s goblet, “Oh yes, I had the pleasure of meeting André de Quitte-Beauf this morning.”

“Oh?”