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Rinaldo had no definite way of marking the passage of time, but he assumed it was now the night of his second day of confinement, because the servant brought him his second dinner.
A strip of dried meat cut up into a bowl of warm, tasteless water.
This was what Lord Ganelon thought of him.
Perhaps it was what King Carleman thought of him, too.
Rinaldo ate it ravenously, just the same.
He sat on the rough stone floor of the otherwise empty room with his back propped against the equally rough and uneven stone wall.
He wore only a tunic and leggings. Lord Ganelon told the guard to take his boots.
The room was stark and cold. Rinaldo paced the floor regularly to try to keep some warmth flowing through his veins.
The day passed. Other than the servant who brought him a thin bowl of
