"I am grievously tired of the country, and had it not been
that nothing would induce me to leave your service, I have thought
sometimes that I would gladly be back again in my father's smithy,
hammering away on hot iron. I used to think it would be the grandest
thing possible to have nothing to do, but I have found that one can
have too much of a good thing. Certainly I am glad to be going back,
but I am not sure whether it won't be worse at court than it is
here."
"Perhaps we may not be staying there," Wulf said encouragingly.
"Maybe the earl is going to start on some expedition; though we
have heard of no trouble, either in the North or in Wales. But even
if I stay at court, Osgod, you will often be able to be away, and
can spend some hours a day at the smithy, where, if you like, you
can take off your smock and belabour iron to your heart's content.
I should say you would be a rare help to your father, for, as Leof
says, for a downright solid blow there are not many men who could
surpass you."
Osgod laughed. "Leof has not forgiven that blow I dealt him a month
ago, when I flattened in his helmet with my blunted axe and stretched
him senseless on the ground; in faith, I meant not to hit so hard,
but he had been taunting me with my slowness, and seeing an opening
for a blow at his head I could not resist it, and struck, as he was
always telling me to do, quickly."
"You well-nigh killed him," Wulf said, shaking his head; "he has
not taken an axe in his hand since, at least not with either of us.
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