“But ’tis not work, Father!”
“If thou so think, thou art not yet master of that art.”
“Of what art?”
“Waiting.” Wilfred’s pen pursued its journey for a moment before he added, “Lad, this that I am on is but play and revelry. But the lack thereof—the time passed in awaiting till the lad that enscribeth the text have fresh parchment ready—that is work.”
Bertram frowned and pursed his lips as if he could not see it.
“For forty years, Bertram, all the wisdom of the wisest nation in the world was sometime taught unto a man named Moyses. His work was to lead the chosen folk of God into the land that God should give them. But at the end of that forty years, he was but half learned. So for other forty years, he was sent into a wilderness for to keep sheep.”
“Why, he were past work then!”
“Nay, he was but then ready for it.”
“And did he lead the folk after all?”
“He did so.”