Her Majesty’s Secret Service

003. White Stew

As I went downstairs, I saw Fred’s face, flushed red. It was the first time I’d seen him so angry in the two weeks I’d worked there.

“What’s the matter, Fred?”

“What’s the matter? If you have eyes, take a look!”

In the sack Fred held out, there was a heap of rye bread. Wait. Rye bread?

“Ah…!”

Fred had been providing wheat bread to the manor’s servants every lunchtime, baked from flour received from the bishop of Ely. Of course, the servants knew this well.

In such a case, if coarse rye bread instead of soft wheat bread appeared on the table, Fred could be misunderstood.

“Logan, what happened? Where is the wheat bread? You were the one who brought the bread today, weren’t you?”

—

The work I did while staying here was simple, often just picking up items for Fred when he was too busy.

In the first week, they didn’t trust me to fetch the bread, but as trust was built, this week they entrusted me with the task of bringing it.

Upon closer inspection, the sack was subtly different. Whether it was more worn or the texture, it seemed a bit older than the one I had carried.

Ah, now that I think about it, there was someone waiting behind me to receive the bread.

It must have been a mix-up with the sacks at the bakery guild.

“Uh… Fred, it seems…”

As I explained the situation, Fred clenched his eyes shut, ruffled his own hair, and then shouted at me.

“What are we to do with this! You know as well as I do, those fellows, with their hard labor, are sensitive about their meals. What do you think will happen if we give them rye bread? Besides… ugh… what will the bishop think of me…!”

The rye bread of this era was unbearably coarse. It was a roughness that felt different on the skin compared to the rye bread sold in modern bakeries.

I remember trying this rye bread for the first time and spitting it out, so I could understand the anger if this was served as a meal.

“Can’t we just put the rye bread into the stew…? The hodgepodge stew that’s boiling over there.”

I pointed to the pot always boiling on the building’s fireplace. The hodgepodge stew, with all sorts of things in it, was still bubbling away.

Hearing my words, Fred cried out incredulously.

“You make a mistake and then say such a thing? The important thing now is not the stew, but the bread! If we’re not careful, the bishop might think I’ve been pilfering the flour he gave us!”

He shouted and once again clutched his head, muttering to himself.

“Even if we bake new bread right away, it’s clear we won’t make it in time… What to do…”

Fred looked seriously troubled. Feeling responsible for my mistake, I cautiously spoke up.

“Um… it’s not absolutely necessary to eat wheat bread, right? As long as we have some food made with flour, that should suffice?”

Fred glanced at me after hearing my words.

“Food made with flour, you say? Yes, that would be good! It would give us an excuse. But where now can we find someone who knows how to cook such a dish! Even if we risk a fine to bake the bread ourselves, we still lack the time! And even if we find someone who can cook, the problem remains! The only thing we can make with the ingredients we have is the hodgepodge soup!”

Watching Fred cry out in frustration, I calmly opened my mouth.

“What ingredients are left?”

“Why do you ask? Will you give it a try? Arthur! Just don’t ruin the ingredients.”

“I’ll try it myself. Just tell me what’s left.”

Fred’s face changed at my firm stance.

“Really, you can cook?”

“Yes, so hurry up. Please call out the ingredients.”

Living alone, I’ve had my fill of cooking, not to mention the hundreds of cooking channels I’ve watched on YouTube from my room. Just because I’ve fallen into the medieval era doesn’t mean I can’t cook, right?

* * *

Fred went into the kitchen and came out with the remaining ingredients. All that was left was flour, three lumps of butter, and some milk. Oh, and a little salt.

“With these ingredients…”

I pondered what I could make with these ingredients when a video of making cream soup came to mind.

There were enough ingredients. All I had to do was make it.

Ignoring Fred’s anxious gaze, I placed a pot on the fireplace and cut in the butter.

One lump, or maybe about two lumps, should be enough for a stew for nine people.

“Logan! Why are you putting so much butter?”

I thought it looked too little, but Fred seemed to think otherwise. After calming Fred, who was trying to push me away, the butter began to melt. It was time to generously sprinkle flour over the melted butter and stir so it wouldn’t clump.

Without a measuring device, I had to estimate the amount of flour, and it seemed a bit much, but not excessively so, so I decided to go ahead with the cooking.

The roux made from butter and flour sizzled. As the color began to change, it was time to add the milk.

“Ah! If you add it like that, it’ll be more expensive than wheat bread!”

As I poured nearly half a jug of milk into the milk can, Fred’s surprised voice rang out. “For nine people to eat, this much needs to be added.”

The bubbling cream stew was seasoned with a pinch of salt.

And after a while, the cream stew was complete.

The kitchen filled with a savory aroma. Truthfully, it was closer to a cream sauce than a stew, but once ladled generously into the stew bowl, it looked unmistakably like stew to anyone.

Fred, who had been watching me cook, came over to smell the finished stew and took a spoonful to taste.

“How does it taste? It’s good enough to eat, right?”

Curious about the taste, I asked Fred, who was savoring the stew in his mouth.

After tasting the soup, Fred made a puzzled face and tilted his head.

“Well… it smells a bit like flour… but it’s tasty… um… well, I think the others will be satisfied with this…. So, do I dip the rye bread in here?”

“You can dip it, pour it over, or even roll it up.”

Only then did Fred let out a sigh of relief. With a relieved expression, he opened his mouth.

“Phew… that’s a relief. Logan, don’t make such a mistake next time. Oh, and the cost of the flour will come out of your wages. No complaints, right?”

“Ha… Of course. It’s my mistake.”

Somehow, it seemed I had made up for my blunder.

* * *

Life at the manor is always hard. That’s why the bishop provides white bread to the servants who tend to the fruit trees in the manor.

For the servants at the manor, their daily delight was to visit Fred’s inn and boarding house every lunchtime to eat the white bread provided by the bishop.

But it seemed that their daily delight had disappeared.

“Hey Fred! What happened? Rye bread?”

As the white bread was nowhere to be seen on the table, the returning servants’ irritation flared up after finishing their work.

Despite the ominous atmosphere, Fred was not at all intimidated and shouted with confidence.

“Listen up! Today, instead of bread, I’ve prepared a special stew! You can soak the rye bread in the stew in front of you, or pour the stew over the rye bread.”

“Stew?”

At that word, the servants looked at the plates filled with white broth. Somehow, even the bread was served in small bowls today. The thick and pure white stew seemed to have the color of an angel.

Though they had never seen an angel, wouldn’t an angel be white?

The servants were intrigued by the stew’s milky white appearance.

Kevin, the eldest among the servants, smiled at Fred.

“It’s a different color from the usual hodgepodge stew we have. Who made it?”

“Well, that… Logan… made a stew with flour.”

“Logan? The foreigner? Interesting, the foreigner made a stew with flour?”

“It doesn’t smell bad. Seems edible?”

The color of the stew seemed to please them, as there were no complaints about the rye bread.

The nine servants dipped their bread into the stew and brought it to their mouths.

“Hmm…?”

Those who put the rye bread soaked in stew into their mouths made various expressions, then began to eat the stew and rye bread with satisfaction.

Some even licked their plates clean, suggesting that the cream stew had fully satisfied their taste buds.

“Hey, this is pretty good! Hey Fred, maybe from now on, Logan should make the stew instead of you?”

“That’s what I’m saying! I never knew rye bread could taste so good!”

“So, this is a stew boiled with flour? It’s a completely different taste from oatmeal with flour. How exactly did he cook it?”

“Logan, this guy, must have been a renowned chef before he lost his memory. To be able to boil such a stew with flour…”

It seemed that matters had been settled. The voices of satisfied servants filled the building.

* * *

A month had passed since the day the cream stew was first made.

Considering the cost of ingredients for the cream stew, Fred had resolved never to make it again.

Yet, the delicious ‘white stew’ was in such demand by the servants that he found himself making it once a week, despite the trouble.

Today, too, he was busy preparing the cream stew, stepping outside to catch a breeze while waiting for the servants to return.

One of the servants came running breathlessly. It was George, the youngest among them.

“Fred! Oh? Oh! Logan! Logan!!”

George, calling out loudly for me and Fred, brightened upon seeing my face and hurried over.

Was there some emergency?

“What’s all the fuss about?”

Hearing my voice, George caught his breath and began to get to the point.

“It’s Bishop Thomas…”

“Thomas? Who’s that?

No matter how hard I think, I can’t recall anyone named ‘Bishop Thomas.’ The name Thomas only brings to mind a steam locomotive with a grim, grey face.

Seeing my clueless expression, George realized his oversight and explained who he was.

“Did I mention this manor belongs to Bishop Eli? Bishop Thomas is the current Bishop Eli.”

“Oh, is that so? What about Bishop Eli? Wait, you mean the owner here?”

“Yes, the bishop himself, the owner! He said he would dine here today!”

“Here? Why would such a distinguished person dine in a place like this?”

“I’ve overheard it secretly… It seems he’s come for the ‘cream stew’ after all.”

“Cream stew?”

“Yes. Since last month, we’ve had cream stew once a week, haven’t we?”

“That’s right.”

“About the ingredients for that stew… It seems Fred sent a letter to the manager who supplies us with flour. He asked for ingredients for cream stew.”

“So, the butter and milk as well…?”

“Yes, it seems so.”

Indeed, considering the times, the ingredients for cream stew must be quite expensive.

Even if we set aside the flour and butter, the amount of milk required was substantial, so it’s no wonder Fred pleaded for the ingredients.

“So, you’re saying the bishop is coming here now?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

It was an opportunity. An opportunity to escape this wretched place.

After spending the past month here, infested with fleas and bedbugs, it was hardly a place for people to live. And yet, there was no point of contact with anyone else.

It wasn’t my intention, but the bishop’s visit is a fortunate event for me.

Since Edward is still alive, the bishop must surely refer to one from the Anglican Church.

‘If it’s an Anglican bishop… perhaps I could make a connection with Elizabeth?’

After living here for the past month, I’ve realized this era is too harsh for an ordinary citizen to endure.

And to rely on a mediocre power-holder would likely result in being cast out.

Without knowing how to return, or even if it’s possible to return.

Fortunately, I know the future.

In five years, Elizabeth, who will lead England’s golden age, is still but a princess.

If I can somehow make a connection with the bishop, I might be able to make an impression on Elizabeth.

In this era, to live comfortably, it was only natural to side with Elizabeth, who would be the victor of history.

The cream stew in the story is made in the manner of preparing béchamel sauce.

Béchamel sauce is a sauce that was created in France during the 17th century, the time of Louis XIV. Yes, it’s the same cream sauce that Chef Baek makes.

It is said to be named after the Duke of Béchamel’s cook who created it.