The King looked at the man oddly and said,"Your son will come under my care and schooling, but he must come today. If you cannot part with him immediately, I fear you will lose your conviction in the days to come and snatch him from his tutors in my considerable libraries."
"Of course," the former monk replied, bowing deeply to the King. "Let me fetch him from chopping the firewood and he will be your ward. My wife and I will be comforted and cared for by the knowing that our boy is beloved by the King."
"I have no doubt, for you seem to be a man of strong character, firm will and mirthful spirit. It is on my honor that your boy will come to greatness behind my walls." The king said, touching the sleeve of the humble mathematician.
"Neither have I any doubt of your promise," tumbled from the man, now evidently startled by the King's touch. "May your servant go and fetch the boy?"
"Go, but do not have him pack any of his things. All he needs will be provided," the King finished, thinking, " If it were not so cold on this autumn day, I would have him come to us in his tunic alone, without even sandals. But the frost hardens the soil and the boy will become ill if I indulge myself in such overt ritual."
The boy was fetched. Hugging his mother and father about the neck, he swore to give his best for the service of the Kingdom and the honor of their family. Then, as he passed through the meager garden and back woods of his parent's land, he snatched the hatchet from a stump where the wood was chopped. It's blade was rusted in spots and the handle was wrapped only in a rough twine older than he was. He folded it into a piece of bed-cloth he carried his daily lunch of cheese, rough country bread and an apple in most days. Tucking his only momento of childhood labor under his arm, he trotted off for the courts of the king.
The boy was surprised how little he already missed the way things had been and how terribly light his being felt about him.
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