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Knowing well that Lčođern's voice held poorly hidden merriment, Garmund frowned. "It's not so funny. You'd stink too if you had to fight the sheep."
"Fight the sheep? The nice little lambs? Why would you do that?" Now she was laughing.
"They aren't so nice when you're trying to take their wool," he grumbled. Garmund snatched a leftover heel of bread and tore it with his fingers. He was still hungry, never having worked so hard in a day before in his life.
"Surely the work cannot have been as bad as that?" Garstan asked.
"Yes it could," Garmund said, shooting a glare at Cnebba. "But it didn't have to be. It didn't start out quite as bad as it turned out to be."
"It wasn't my fault!" Cnebba protested.
"Yes it was. You let go."
"You nicked her skin and she twisted away!"
Stigend, seeing a fresh quarrel brewing, interrupted. "Now boys. Don't fight. What happened? From the beginning."
The boys glared at each other for a moment. Then Garmund began to tell the story.
"It wasn't so bad at first. Old Master Ordulf showed us how to shear the first sheep."
"Then we tried to shear a little while he helped us hold the shears."
"Then he said we could try ourselves while he watched."
They fell silent again, staring angrily.
"And then?" asked Garstan.
"Cnebba was trying to hold her and I had the shears..."
"And that's when the sheep got away."
"Yes. Do we have to go back?" The boys sounded glum.
Garstan looked at the boys, both amused and pitying.
"Well, you have had a hard day. But nothing worth having comes with ease. I think you, Garmund, must go back for the rest of the week. And I think that you will find that the job is easier if you can learn to work well with Cnebba. As to the lessons for tonight, I have not decided. I am not sure that you can pay mind to your book well after a long day of work. What do you think, Stigend?"
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