He decided to wait until the sun had sunk a bit lower in the sky before following his flock back through the fields.
Three days from now, he would be with the merchant’s daughter.
He started to read the book he had bought. On the very first page it described a burial ceremony.
And the names of the people involved were very difficult to pronounce.
If he ever wrote a book, he thought, he would present one person at a time, so that the reader wouldn’t have to worry about memorizing a lot of names.
When he was finally able to concentrate on what he was reading, he liked the book better;
the burial was on a snowy day, and he welcomed the feeling of being cold.
As he read on, an old man sat down at his side and tried to strike up a conversation.
“What are they doing?” the old man asked, pointing at the people in the plaza.
“Working,” the boy answered dryly, making it look as if he wanted to concentrate on his reading.
Actually, he was thinking about shearing his sheep in front of the merchant’s daughter,
so that she could see that he was someone who was capable of doing difficult things.
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