“I, Cerdic Eporedorix Iovantucarus, swear to tell the truth, in any form and at any cost.”
Alice struggled not to get lost in those eyes so sincere. She swallowed and looked away.
“Interesting name. Does it have a specific meaning?”
“It had, a long time ago. From the middle ages onwards, I’ve adopted the crippled form of Cédric, because it was mispronounced anyway, and Bachelet for the surname. Both this and the original are related to horses.”
“A high-ranking name?”
“I wouldn't say so. I was what today might be called a cavalry general, but among Gauls, it was a custom to hold office of some importance only if you were deemed worthy, not by birthright. I earned the name also by shoveling tons of manure.”
“I can't believe it! I can't see you working in the stables. How did you manage
