Lifting the axe overhead, Ward emphasized the bend in his knees and position of his back. With a few cleanthwacks, he cleft the round in two.
“Might I try?” Alwyn asked.
A near smile on his face, Ward handed the axe over, then situated and pointed at a piece of wood. “The seam’s there. Aim fer that.”
Three times, he coached Alwyn through strokes.
“Ha! Good!” Ward laughed when the wood was finally split. “If I left you alone ‘ere, you’d get through that ‘ole stack!”
There was the sound of a throat clearing nearby.
“Pardon me, my lord.”
The men looked up to see Shrove standing just feet away.
“Ah, Mr Shrove! Good morning to you. Mr Ward here was just showing me how to wield an axe properly!”
Alwyn grinned at the woodsman, but the man’s face had transformed to guarded incredulity.
He pulled off his hat. “I beg pardon, m’lord. I didn’t know you, though I knew there were a new lord – God rest yer pa’s soul.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for, Mr Ward.” Alwyn handed back the axe with a dip of his head, noting that the woodsman’s demeanour did not lighten. “Thank you for the lesson. I hope I won’t shame you if ever you come across me here splitting a few logs.”
Seeing the weak shake of Ward’s head, it was clear to Alwyn that the camaraderie they had just been enjoying was gone, evaporated like a morning mist.
“Shall we?” he asked Shrove, his disappointment keen.
They were halfway to the stables before he heard a resumption of the axe’s ringing blows.
***
It was mid-afternoon when Alwyn returned to the castle and found his aunt reading in the parlour. She chuckled at the sight of him in his shabby clothes, just as he knew she would.
“This is how you presented yourself as the new lord? And goodness! What is that stench?” She waved her hand before her nose. “Lingering near the pig pens, were you?”
He teased her in turn by sitting down on the settee, very close beside her.
Chuckling, she asked, “And how were you received? You were gone much longer than I expected.”
“The tenants were kind – extending condolences, even sharing a few stories I’d never heard before about Papa.”
“Hmm…I miss him,” she sighed, her grief plain.
Yes, none of us knew his heart would give out while I’m away in London.A thought struck Alwyn.
“Can I not move you to town, aunt?”
Straightening up, Joan stared hard at him before the twinkle returned to her eye.
“You cannot lure me out of the Castle — surely you know that countless suitors tried.” She dropped her voice. “Besides, if I were not here, who would keep an eye on Mr Shrove, the wily fellow?”
Suspicion of the steward was a running joke between the aunt and nephew, as they both trusted him implicitly. Savvy and diligent, Shrove’s attendance to day-to-day matters ensured Alwyn did not have to return home each fortnight to oversee the estate himself.
“I could set you up in a lovely place, anywhere you like — and late some evenings, I would come to visit you.”
She cackled. “Imagine my ruination if the figure of a young man was seen slinking into my house at night!”
“Well then, once I am licensed, I promise to blow a trumpet whilst climbing your front steps in broad daylight! What say you?”
