He had a big axe in one hand and a whetstone in the other.The sun was high, so he was wearing a broad-brimmed hat to keep the bright light out of his eyes.‘It’s all right,’ he said, as he noticed me looking doubtfully at the axe. ‘I was planning to wander up to those trees up there on the skyline, cut out some dry wood for the fire. Kari and young Harald have been a bit free with the charcoal, and I think it may get cold tonight.’ He grinned. ‘Listen to that,’ he said, ‘you can tell I’ve been in these parts too long. Back home, Greek cold’d have everybody sweating.’‘You two start every other sentence with back home,’ I said, maybe a little irritably. ‘I take it you don’t really like it here.’He laughed. ‘Are you kidding?’ he said. ‘Soft beds, all the food you can stuff down your face; no work, unless you count prancing around with a spear in your hand trying to look fierce. And we - Kari and me - we hardly even have to do that any more. No, we live on the charity of the regiment, on account of our long and distinguished service.’ He snorted.
