Chapter 9 With Thoughts Like Treason
With Thoughts Like Treason
IF I DON’T leave town soon, I may not make it home before dark falls, Alwyn knew, eyeing his saddlebag which was packed and ready by the door.
However, as he wanted to make sure of something, he was straining his ears for a very specific sound that he heard nearly every morning.
Today it seemed late in coming as he sat, restlessly flipping through Quain’s Elements of Anatomy.
When finally there was the scrape of a door, followed by the creak of a floorboard out in the hallway, Alwyn held his breath and a few cheerfully whistled notes reached his ears.
Ah, Sliger at last! Shutting the book softly, he smiled. And that is not the tune of someone who’s headed home in disgrace.
Alwyn knew that charitable acts were wont to incite curiosity, so he had stayed out of sight since telling the innkeeper that he would pay for Sliger’s room and board. He hoped the boy would not somehow intuit his involvement in the new arrangement.
During his fourth winter in London, while walking the halls of the indigents’ hospital, Alwyn had determined that the patients needed to be more comfortable in their beds.
Purchasing a large order of woolen blankets, and having it delivered anonymously, had not been an easy task, though he was pleased to see the good that came of it.
Wanting to make it an annual occurrence, he had asked his father to send Shrove to town in the future to see to it, that he himself would not be discovered as the benefactor.
Moving to the window now, Alwyn caught a glimpse of Sliger on the street below, heading off into the city. Grabbing his bag, he himself set out from the Bull, going in the opposite direction to a livery stable.
When he had first arrived in town, he had considered bringing one of his family’s many horses, but had abandoned the idea when he realized that any student keeping such a costly animal would garner much attention.
Today, he selected a fine bay-dun that had taken him to Trippingham and back a number of times.
However, he did not do so in order to travel to Everson Cottage.
Perhaps next week, he sighed. For now, duty calls me home.
Three hours of riding later, Alwyn crested a hill, and caught sight of a tower, its crenelated silhouette dark against the fading, late-summer sky.
Castle Farrmore.
As a cold wind bit through his coat, he was thankful for the hearty meal and warm hearth that awaited him there.
‘Castle’ was a disputable descriptor of the edifice, for although remnants of the 700-year-old stone fortress had been preserved, much of it had been torn down and rebuilt over the years according to the whims of whichever nobleman currently lived there.
Each lord had updated his seat with whatever were the time’s current conveniences, so that a grand, though reasonably comfortable home now stood on the estate.
Trotting over the familiar grounds, Alwyn arrived at the extensive stable’s door. A groom ran out, shouting over his shoulder, “Mi’lord’s ‘ere – look sharp!”
Alwyn’s heart lurched and he nearly looked around for his father though he knew it was his arrival in the yard that had just been announced. He dismounted and handed over the reins, reminding himself, Papa is no longer here to see to the tenants, thus my journey home.
Feeling not a little foolish, he walked towards a vestige of the curtain wall, then under the oak and iron portcullis. Though its raising and lowering mechanism had been disabled more than two hundred years earlier, it still bore witness to the castle’s formidable past.
Crossing the bailey, Alwyn passed several neatly stacked cords of firewood, a thick carpet of wood chips shifting gently under his boots.
He hadn’t told the Felixes the whole of the wood-chopping story, and now, looking up and seeing the window through which he had watched the woodsman all those years ago, his memory sharpened.
It was a mid-autumn day, and a pile of oakwood burned brightly in the hearth while his father was playing billiards with a group of friends.
One man, Lord Loughley, was shooting very poorly, for which the others were ribbing him like schoolboys.
Alwyn’s father found this especially amusing as he himself had lost the previous game.
Perched in the window seat, young Alwyn had peered out upon the grounds, his eyes steady on Ward the woodsman who was toiling at the chopping block.
The man’s exhalations were frosty plumes in the frigid air above his head.
Though short of stature and clad in coarse woolen garb, when he arced his axe downward, he cleft the thick rounds in two with remarkable elegance.
“Come here, son,” Viscount Farrmore beckoned as the men’s game had ended. “You’ll need to know how to handle a cue before long. We can’t have you messing about like Loughley here.”
Alwyn noticed, as he made his way over to take the stick, that Loughley did not smile while the other high-borns snickered.
After he attempted a few shots, his father thumped his back, saying, “You’ll do us proud. I just know it.”
There were a few cheerful cries of hear, hear! as Alwyn drifted back to the window seat to watch Ward divide more branches into pieces that would fit the castle’s countless hearths.
Could any of the men in this room do that? he had wondered. What does a ball rolling across a felted mat matter, when it’s cut wood that will bake our bread and keep us warm throughout the winter? He hunched a little into himself, thinking his thoughts treasonous.
Eventually, the woodsman had put his tool aside and walked towards the kitchen, lured probably by Cook’s renowned hospitality for those who worked the grounds.
As the knock of ivory balls continued, Alwyn slipped out of the room.
Creeping down one of the stone spiral staircases, he made his way outside to where the woodsman had propped his axe.
With a glance towards the kitchen door, and another at the billiards room window, he grasped the ashwood handle and placed a bit of kindling on the block at his feet.
One askew swing later, and he beheld the extraordinary sight of the axe head, deeply embedded in his shoe.
Chuckling now, Alwyn wiggled all five of his toes within his riding boot.
Thank the heavens, you fortunate phalanges!
As he continued towards the house, someone within must have sighted him, for the butler was standing in the hall upon his entrance.
“Welcome home, my lord,” Carrow said with a bow, then strode forth to take his master’s saddlebag.
Calling me that instead of Papa, must feel as strange to him as it does to me, Alwyn thought, dipping his head in response. I would we did away with all of the ‘my lord’ business.
“Thank you, Carrow. Where is my aunt?”
“Lady Joan is in her parlour.”
“Please send word to Mr Shrove that we’ll ride out first thing in the morning to see the tenants.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Alwyn went to seek out his aunt and found her slouched in an armchair, deep within the throes of an afternoon nap. Crouching beside her elbow, he whispered, “Aunt Joan…”
Mid-snore, she startled awake.
“William!” Her daze quickly cleared as she dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “When did you arrive?”
“Just in time to behold a truly delightful tableau.” He closed his eyes and went slack-jawed in imitation of her.
“Cruel boy,” she said, narrowing her eyes before offering him her cheek. As he leaned to kiss it, she squeezed his arm affectionately.
“You must be peckish. Sit, won’t you?” Reaching for the handbell, she clanged it loudly.
Even before he had settled on a chair, she began to tell him about a letter she had received that morning from someone he had never met, nor even heard of.
Yet reading it must have thrilled her, as she lives here all alone now. Poor old hen.
A maid entered, delivering a heavily laden tray.
Her tale not yet ended, Joan began to pour the tea while Alwyn plated the prettiest Madeira cake for her, then a smaller one for himself.
When his aunt was silenced at last by a mouthful of lemon sponge, he said, “Aunt, you’ll be pleased to know that Dr Felix has entrusted me to treat his patients whilst he is off in Yorkshire.”
She brushed crumbs from her smiling lips as she hurried to swallow.
“Of course, he has! And with your examination later this month, you are on the cusp of accomplishing everything you set out to do. I am so proud!” She burst out in laughter.
“I’ll never forget when you confessed your preposterous scheme to me, insisting you most certainly could be a doctor as well as a viscount!
Who ever heard of such a thing? And, unbelievably, your father had no quarrel with it — I thought you both moonstruck! ”
“Yet you became my fiercest ally.” He reached over to pat her hand.
“I’ve always been a bit of a fool,” she said archly. “More tea?
***
Just as the sky was lightening the next morning, Alwyn rose from bed.
Though his clothes press held many fine garments, he donned the plainest of them as he found them the most comfortable to both his person and his mind.
After a hasty breakfast that Carrow brought straight to him, he left the house, chafing his hands together against the cold.
He was headed for the stables when the thunk of an axe caught his attention.
Across the bailey, a familiar figure stood.
Though much aged, Ward the Woodsman was as sinewy and spry as ever. Alwyn couldn’t help but stare.
I believe that’s the same woolen snood on his head. And the very axe in his hands!
He walked towards the fellow. “Good morning.”
Looking up, Ward jerked his head in acknowledgment, then carried on with his work.
He doesn’t know me, Alwyn thought as another log fell prey to the expertly wielded sharp edge. That’s no wonder as last he saw me, I was a foot shorter, with a chin as bald as Carrow’s pate.
As Ward turned to grab another round, he saw Alwyn studying him, and his look of faint perplexity darkened into something approaching irritation.
“Pardon me for staring. You just…you make that look so easy.”
This lifted one corner of the man’s mouth.
“Well, I been doin’ it all me life, so I’d ‘ope ’tis easy to one such as meself. Wha’d you do ‘ere at the Castle?”
What do I do here? Alwyn was dumbfounded, then remembered he was wearing humble garb. An odd sense of pride warmed his limbs at being mistaken for a workman.
Not waiting for an answer, the woodsman went on. “Choppin’ ain’t ‘ard once you know what yer doin’.”
He picked up a round and placed it on the block, holding the axe high for Alwyn’s observation.
“Ya put the knots downward so they won’t parry the bit’s blow.”
It was clear now this was a lesson, and Alwyn was eager to hear it.
“With yer stance wide, ya keep yer right ‘and up near the ‘ead, and yer left down at the ‘andle’s end.”
Lifting the axe overhead, Ward emphasized the bend in his knees and position of his back. With a few clean thwacks, 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?”
“I say that I will stay right here, thank you very much.”
“But, surely you understand…” Alwyn reached to clasp her hand. “Once I am a doctor, I will live and practice in London. Will you come and live with me then?”
“Honestly, I have no desire to breathe in that city air and feel the press of all those people.”
There was a set to her chin, and Alwyn knew he would make no headway, so he changed tack.
“Then perhaps you would like someone to come and live with you here. I cannot bear the thought of you being all alone. Who might make you happy?”
With all solemnity, she replied, “William, I assure you that I am pleased to stay at the Castle, even if by myself. Now…”
She wiggled her hand free from his to wave him away.
“Go and have a good wash. The smell of you is spoiling my appetite for dinner.”