The small farmstead was a welcome sight after the Spartan hardness of the past week. Smoke from the fire drifted from a rough stone chimney that rose from the heavy thatch roof. A stone wall marked the small holdings perimeter and enclosed the various yards and out houses.
The main yard in front of the house had the same chickens pecking around as had been there on Eschins last departure and, as always the air carried the rich aroma of cooking from the open kitchen door.
As a ranking officer; Eschin had been offered use of the family’s accommodations and it was not just the soft bed that he looked forward to on these breaks from action.
The family running the farm were gentle and strong people. The farmer and his wife appeared a quiet but loving couple and Eschin had found himself taking an instant liking to them.
Their oldest son Ket was nearing eleven years of age and had run away from Eschin the first time that he had stayed. Eschin had tried to be friendly but the boy clearly feared this silver and black clad warrior with his hard eyes and strange manner of speech.
Over time however, the boy had overcome his fear of their guest and warmed to his occasional company. Eschin had found himself an unwitting tutor in the boys own search for manhood and identity.
Even now he could hear the youth in the farms back yard, busy with his fathers axe as he tried to cut up log rounds for the fire.
Eschin moved silently to the back door, where he could observe the child without his presence being detected.
Ket was panting with exhertion but was having little success for his trouble. More rounds were flying from the block than being split by the axe. Occasionally the child would manage to cut a round in half when he struck it but more often he would miss and create nothing more than a sliver of kindling wood with the big axe.
At other times he would hit a hidden knot in the wood and the axe would bounce treacherously back at him causing him to loose his balance.
Finally Eschin walked out into the sunlight of the yard and smiled at his friend. “ Well met Ket, I can see that you and your father’s axe have been becoming better aquiained in my absence”.
The boy coloured but laughed out loud; “ yes my lord, but I fear that I will never master it at this rate. I spend three times as long cutting it as it takes to burn it!”.
Eschin smiled and held out his hand for the axe.
“ Nonsense my friend. All things appear impossibly difficult when we do not comprehend their nature. You have strength aplenty but your technique is lacking”.
He took the latest round that had fallen to the ground and re set it on the chopping log once again before motioning to Ket to examine it with him.
“The man who taought me how to use an axe when I was your age told me that the secret is to see how the wood itself had grown and developed. Then you will best understand how to cut it. Take this piece for example, see how it had thickened and pushed out branches during it’s life. Those branches have been cut away but the roots of them remain as a knot in the wood. Try to put your axe at the end with the knot and it will just bounce off and perhaps take a tooth or two with it if you’re not careful.”
He turned the round over on the chopping block so that the knot sat nearest the bottom.
“ it is best to always choose the path of least resistance when we cut,” he took up the axe as if to strike, “ But first you must see the cut in your mind. See it as one perfect fluid and balanced action and then move to create that action. Make sure that your stance is correct or you will miss your target and end up with more kindling”.
Eschin demonstrated for the boy; first slowly lowering the head of the axe so that it rested lightly on top to the round and then adjusting his stance slightly before taking his swing.
The round fell into two perfect halves on the log.
“Now you try”, he handed the axe back to Ket who had already taken up another round to chop and now set it carefully on the block, making sure that the knots were nearest the bottom. He shifted position several times before taking a practice swing and then, to his evident pleasure, he struck, and the round obediently split apart.
“ Thank you Sozo!” ‘ he cried, forgetting his manners in the excitement of the moment and looking fearfully back to Eschin as he realised, “ I am sorry… my lord”.
Eschin sat on the chopping log and held the boys gaze. “ We are friends Ket, and you may call me Sozo Eschin with no fear. I am happy to have been of service”.
Ket smiled in his relief and moved to set up the next round. “Who taught you about wood then, was it your father?”
Eschin closed his eyes and drew a long breath as he considered how to answer the youth’s question.
“ Not my father no, he was too often away tending to the affairs of our lands. As I myself am now more is the pity. No, it was my fathers closest friend, a man called Galaan who taught me. He taught me many things. How to dance and how to write, how to hunt. It was he who taught me the sword, but that came much later”
Ket smiled, “ he sounds like a strange fellow; to be dancing one day and fighting the next”.
“ Strange indeed, but at that time I hardly knew it. One does not question matters so much when one is young. Truly though he saw no difference between chopping wood or dancing or fighting. They were all one and the same to him, an opportunity to create beuty out of function”.
“And he taught you when you were young?”
“When I was young yes, and then later, when I was older”.
“ he must be an old man now then, his dancing days are over eh”
“ He was never old in all the years I knew him. He was of the elder race and appeared forever young. I knew that he and my father had been friends when my father was but a youth”.
Eschin looked to see how the boy had received this information, but he did not appear shocked or afraid.
He stood to his feet once again.
“ how old are you my lord?”
“ old enough to know that your supper is nearly ready. Now try to finish the rest of this wood by then eh”.
And with that he left the boy to seek his quarters and a hot bath.
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