Time of Trial

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Aubrey Fitzwilliam braced himself for the next attack from his young, tall and menacing adversary. Young and tall were manageable. It was the menacing part that was the problem.

Aubrey grimaced as sweat trickled from his brow and threatened to blind him, but he couldn’t spare a hand to wipe it away.

His adversary advanced on him, murder in his eye, and launched a thunderbolt.

Aubrey played forward and had to jerk back when the ball leaped up off a good length, whistling past his gloves with nothing to spare.

The bowler stifled a groan and stood mid-pitch. He threw his head back as if to berate the gods for the injustice. Then he scowled at Aubrey before beginning his march back to his bowling mark.

Aubrey straightened and removed his batting gloves, trying to give the appearance of someone who had so much composure that he could give the surplus away to those less blessed – while inside, his batting nerves jittered alarmingly.

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