He enjoyed working on his own, but on some days several of the town girls would sit on a small bench and watch him. It made him uneasy because their whispers and giggles filled him with a strange sense of fascination. He'd been working the land for as long as he could remember, and having no family meant he'd been grafting to earn his keep and lodgings, a tidy hovel and with a large fireplace, from the age of seven. His sweat had paid off now, as the owners of most of the town's better houses treated him well; in turn he provided fresh fruit and seasonal vegetables. Now at the age of nineteen, the years of digging and clearing gave his upper body and arms the size and strength of three men. A fact not unnoticed by the pretty girls nearby, who every few minutes let out howls of laughter, and then sat tight-lipped and silent. 'Shame you be wasting all that sweat and muscle on the land,' said Sally, the more confident and daring one, 'I can think of a lot better ways to put that to good use.' The girls muffled their rising hysterics. 'An' what be that then?' Digger said smiling. next »