“Vaclav!”
“Sire?”
“What’s that man doing?”
Vaclav peered into the gloom. “I know of him. He has a calling. He collects firewood.”
“Where does he live?”
“Three miles hence. By the forest.”
“He lives near a forest, and he’s schlepped three miles to get wood?”
“I believe it is some form of penance, Sire.”
“Bit extreme, don’t you think? Still, it’s horrible out there. Maybe I should help him? ‘King helps lowly peasant’, that sort of stuff?”
“A fine notion. Sire. Shall we take his family provisions?”
“Three miles?” mused the King.
“Yes, Sire.”
“Snowing. Freezing. Dark. Nah, forget it!”
“Sire?”
“What’s that man doing?”
Vaclav peered into the gloom. “I know of him. He has a calling. He collects firewood.”
“Where does he live?”
“Three miles hence. By the forest.”
“He lives near a forest, and he’s schlepped three miles to get wood?”
“I believe it is some form of penance, Sire.”
“Bit extreme, don’t you think? Still, it’s horrible out there. Maybe I should help him? ‘King helps lowly peasant’, that sort of stuff?”
“A fine notion. Sire. Shall we take his family provisions?”
“Three miles?” mused the King.
“Yes, Sire.”
“Snowing. Freezing. Dark. Nah, forget it!”
