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In the previous chapter, Britpop, Andelbert, and Maria left for Versailles. Elise and Snoffduffle interviewed sailors for positions on her crew. Elise offered a position to a young woman who was working as a barmaid.
I will take the telling of the tale once more.
I was delighted to see the village of Versailles again. As we wandered down a lane lined with shops, Maria had tears in her eyes. Tears of joy, no doubt. It is often emotional to see home after an extended time away.
“Look,” Andelbert said excitedly and pointed to a sign posted in a bakery window. “A bread baking contest. It starts in ten minutes. I should enter.”
“It wouldn’t be fair. You would easily win.” Maria replied.
“But it will be fun. And I will give the prize to the second-place winner.”
“I don’t know. It seems wrong.”
“Well, the sign says it is open to anyone.”
Maria seemed annoyed, so I tried a little diplomacy.
“Maria, why don’t you and I go to the Palace and see if we can weasel ourselves some rooms while Andelbert stays and bakes some bread?”
Maria looked at me and said, “That is a grand idea.” She took my arm, and we strolled away.
I was looking forward to using my ‘I’m here to see the King of France’ line on the Palace guard, but it turned out to be Hugo. The guard who delivered the Queen’s letter to my estate in Kapri.
“Maria, what a pleasant surprise,” Hugo said. “It is good to see you also, Baron. But where is Andelbert?”
“He is in the village baking bread in a baking contest.”
Hugo laughed. “He should win that easily enough.”
“True. It seems a waste of time to me,” Maria replied.
“Ah. But it is his passion, is it not?”
“It is, indeed.”
“Come on in. The staff will be delighted to see you.”
“Thank you, Hugo. I am eager to see them, also. We were wondering if there are any rooms available for us?”
“But, of course. The Baron has a standing invitation. And you are always welcome. Any of the maids can show you to your rooms.”
“Thank you, Hugo,” we both replied as we passed through the gate.
Andelbert will take the telling of the baking contest.
I entered the bakery. There were several tables set up for the contest. Most of the contestants were women. Some old and some young. I approached the man who looked to be in charge.
“I would like to enter the contest,” I said.
“Is that so? I do not know you. What is your name?” the baker replied.
I feared he might have heard of me since I baked bread for the King, so I used a false name. “Leon Gruber.”
“Welcome, Leon. Take a spot at a table. The contest is about to begin. I must warn you, the competition is stiff. You will have to be at your best.”
“I will try,” I replied.
We prepared our dough, and the baker placed our loaves in the oven. When the loaves were done, three old men sat at a table to judge the results. After tasting each loaf, they made comments such as “Nice texture.” Or “sweet flavor.”
As fate would have it, my loaf was the last to be judged. As the judges tasted my bread, their eyes widened, and they looked at each other.
One of the men stood and said, “It is no contest. This is the winner.”
Another stood and said, “I agree. I have never tasted bread as flavorful.”
The third man stood and said, “You are an artist.”
The baker frowned, walked over to the table, and took a piece of my bread. He put it in his mouth. His eyes also grew wide as he tasted it.
“What is this magic? What is your secret?”
“It is no secret. It is a gift. But I have a confession to make. My name is not Leon Gruber. I am Andelbert Swift. I have baked bread for the King himself, and he said it was the best he had ever eaten. I would like the prize to go to the second place entry.”
“I have heard the story of the baker who impressed the King with his bread. Now I know why. Follow me.”
The baker took me through a doorway into the pastry shop next door. He waved his arm at the cases full of impressive pastries.
“You are a genius with bread. But can you make pastries as fine as these?”
“I cannot. Bread is my specialty. Pastries such as these are art. And beyond my ability.”
“Good. Then we can be friends. I am Claude Tart.”
“Well met, Claude.”
I spent the next hour with Claude discussing baking and pastry making. I gave him the recipe for my bread and demonstrated how I made it. He tried baking a loaf, but his results were not as good as mine.
“You are correct, Andelbert. You have a gift. But this bread is still better than anything I have baked before, so I thank you.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Claude. Now I really must be going. My wife is waiting for me at the Palace.”
“Honestly?”
“Yes. She was a maid there before we married.”
“You are a blessed soul. Visit me anytime.”
“Thank you. Good day.”
“Good day, Andelbert.”
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I welcome your thoughts, questions, suggestions, corrections, typo catches, etc. Thank you.
Mark