“Yes. I’m Edgar.”

“Ah. And you’ve got a new boat.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Different from the old boat.” With each completed sentence the shepherd paused to enjoy the satisfaction of achievement, and Edgar wondered if that was because he normally had no one to talk to.

“Very different,” Edgar said.

“I’m Saemar, usually called Sam.”

“I hope you’re well, Sam.”

“I’m driving these hoggets to market.”

“I guessed that.” Edgar knew that hoggets were one-year-old sheep. “To cross by the ferry is a farthing for each man or beast.”

“I know.”

“For twenty sheep, two dogs, and you, that will be five pence and three farthings.”

“I know.” Saemar opened a leather purse attached to his belt. “If I give you six silver pennies, you’ll owe me a farthing.”

Edgar was not prepared for financial transactions. He had nowhere to put the money, no change, and no shears to cut coins into halves and quarters. “You can pay Dreng,” he said. “We should be able to take the herd across in one trip.”

“In the old boat, we had to transport them two at a time. It took all morning. And even then, sure enough, one or two of the stupid buggers would fall in the water, or panic and jump in, and have to be rescued. Can you swim?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. I can’t.”

“I don’t think any of your sheep will fall off this boat.”

“If there’s a way to do themselves harm, sheep’ll usually find it.”

Sam picked up a sheep and carried it onto the ferry. His dogs followed him on board and explored excitedly, sniffing the new wood. Sam then gave a distinctive trilling whistle. The dogs responded instantly. They jumped off the ferry, rounded up the sheep, and herded them to the riverbank.

This was the challenging moment.

The leading sheep hesitated, needlessly intimidated by the small watery gap between the ground and the end of the boat. It looked from side to side, searching for an alternative, but the dogs cut off its escape. The sheep looked ready to refuse the next step. Then one of the dogs growled softly, low in its throat, and the sheep jumped.

It landed sure-footedly on the interior ramp and trotted happily down onto the flat bottom of the boat.

The rest of the flock followed, and Edgar smiled with satisfaction.

The dogs followed the sheep on board and stood like sentries on either side. Sam came last. Edgar untied the rope, jumped aboard, and deployed the pole.

As they moved out into midstream, Sam said: “This is better than the old boat.” He nodded sagely. Each banality was uttered like a pearl of wisdom.

“I’m glad you like it,” said Edgar. “You’re my first passenger.”

“Used to be a girl. Cwenburg.”

“She got married.”

“Ah. They do.”

The ferry reached the north bank, and Edgar jumped out. As he was tying the rope, the sheep began to disembark. They did so with more alacrity than they had shown boarding. “They’ve seen the grass,” Sam said in explanation. Sure enough they began to graze beside the river.