The Rufford Rose

by Margaret Lambert

  ‘Why are you and your bastard children here?’ she said, haughtily. ‘You have no business here. Be off.’

  ‘I have every right,’ replied Alice, ‘as my son is Thomas’s heir.’

  ‘More fool you if you believe that,’ sneered Margery. ‘Where’s your proof? See, you have nothing, have you?’

  ‘The papers, drawn up legally and witnessed by my Lord Derby, are in his care. He will show them to you and you will have to accept his word.’

  ‘Have to? Have to? Who are you to tell me what I believe or not? The Derby’s are old and trusted friends of the family. The likes of you cannot hope to have their support. It was all a tale Thomas spun you when he was weak and ill.’

  ‘What is this woman doing here?’ demanded Maud, joining her sister. ‘Out to cause trouble, I’ll be bound. Away with you and take your children with you. They are not fit to be in such company. Away I say.’

  ‘I will go,’ said Alice calmly, ‘but this is not the last you will hear of this. Thomas loved me as I loved him. We bore our children in love, we cherish them and will see that right is done for them. Thomas may have died but I know I am in the right and we will prove it to you. I will not just go and leave you to pick over what rightfully belongs to our son.’

  Before either woman could reply Alice turned away and strode out of the Hall, her children following in her wake.

  ‘Well, really!’ exclaimed Maud. ‘How dare she?’

  ‘How indeed, but I swear I will beat her down to the lowly position she came from, and her bastards too. To think that people like them could aspire to be our equals! We will see her in court if we have to,’ replied Margery, flouncing away to follow her family out.

  ‘Do you believe that tale about Lord Derby?’ asked Maud, almost tripping in her haste to catch up.

  ‘Something was said about it last time I saw dear Thomas, but he was ill, rambling, he didn’t know what he was saying. I’ll soon put it straight. Just you see if I don’t.

  Three days later Margery travelled to Lathom House, the home of the earls of Derby and asked to see the master. Certain in the rightness of her action she had no doubt that she would have the support of Lord Derby over the matter of the Hesketh inheritance so she smiled broadly when she was shown into his presence. He was not alone, there were several members of the household present including his wife.

  ‘Lady Kighley,’ exclaimed his lordship. ‘I was saddened to hear of the death of your brother, Lord Hesketh. He was a good man, very honest and true, a good servant to this household in the past. We had many a convivial conversation over a meal over the years. Please accept my condolences.’

  ‘Thank you, my Lord, we feel our loss most deeply but there are certain matters I need to discuss with you. Thomas always said that I could turn to you for advice should the need arise and, I fear, the need has arisen.’

  Lord Derby looked at her earnest expression then dismissed the rest of his household with a gesture. When they had all filed out he gestured her to sit on one of the cushioned stools at his side.

  ‘May I offer you refreshment?’ he asked.

  ‘Thank you, the journey was difficult over rough roads.’

  He poured a cup of wine and handed it to her.

  ‘Now, what is this advice that you need?’

  Maud sipped her wine then cleared her throat.

  ‘It concerns the Hesketh inheritance. As you know my brother has no legitimate heirs, neither of his wives producing a surviving son. It is therefore right, is it not, that we as his surviving sisters should share his inheritance between us? After all, there are several nephews of his who have a close claim to it if not we, his sisters, ourselves.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘The problem is that we can find no will setting down this obvious arrangement so we wondered what we can do to make things right.’

  Lord Hesketh looked at her for a long uncomfortable moment.

  ‘You will find no will to that effect,’ he said, at last. ‘There is a will and I have a copy of it. The other is held elsewhere. For safekeeping,’ he added.

  Maud gave a nervous laugh.

  ‘No wonder we could not find it and his man of business refused to say where it was. Why all the mystery? Surely it is quite straightforward in its wording, surely there can be no dispute over its content?’

  ‘Oh, there is no dispute, none at all,’ replied the Lord Derby. ‘Thomas consulted me many months ago about the question of inheritance and I advised him on the best way to deal with it. I had the papers drawn up, witnessed and signed. Everything was done according to his wishes, it is legal and correct, as verified by all the other witnesses to the document.’

  ‘Oh, I see. I wonder why Thomas wanted it all to be done so secretly. Surely there was nothing difficult about remembering his own family in his will, after all, who else could possibly be involved?’

  ‘Who indeed?’ The older man looked at her from piercing eyes. He took a long drink from his goblet before continuing. ‘You see, Lady Kighley, Thomas feared there would be trouble on his death and that his wishes would not be adhered to by his family. That is why he came to me for advice, advice I was willing to give, I may add. Remember I knew your brother well, we grew up together, have spent much time in each other’s company. He was accountant to both myself and my grandfather, he knew how to look after his own financial affairs but sought my advice over his inheritance. I guessed his wishes before he told me and it was clear to me that his will would prove, shall we say, unacceptable, to you and your sisters. He did not want there to be argument about it so it was set down in such a manner that it is indisputable. There is no way that you can change what has been set down in law.’ As he spoke his voice had changed from friendly to stern and Maud flinched at what he was saying.

  ‘So, why can we not see this ‘indisputable’ will of his?’ she demanded, rising to her feet. ‘When were we going to be told of its contents? Am I not to know now that I may report to my sisters?’

  ‘Certainly you may know,’ replied Lord Derby, ‘but, pray, be seated.’

  Meekly, Maud sat.

  ‘I will have a copy of the will sent to you as you request to see it but, briefly, it states that, after certain bequests have been made to chantries and alms houses, and certain good works done in the district, Thomas recognises his son, Robert, as his legitimate heir and all his wealth, property, goods and chattels are to be his as of the date of Thomas’s death.’

  Maud flushed red, then the colour drained from her face. Through gritted teeth she said, ‘That bastard? He recognises a bastard begot upon a whore to be his heir?’

  ‘Yes, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. A legal document is a legal document and no court in the land will say otherwise.’

  ‘We shall see about that,’ hissed Maud, getting to her feet. ‘We will go to court and prove that Thomas was insane when he made the will, we will disinherit that bastard and see that the rightful heirs receive their rightful inheritance. This is not the end. Thomas has three sisters and their families will inherit what is theirs.’

  ‘If that is your wish you may try,’ said Lord Derby, ‘but I warn you, you will not win, the will is legal and you will have to accept it.’

  ‘We’ll see about that!’ spat Maud, and swept from the room.

  ‘You can try, dear Lady, you can try,’ muttered Lord Derby to her departing figure. ‘Thomas said you would be trouble and he was right. May his soul rest in peace for that lady’s will not. There is trouble ahead.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Whalley Abbey 1528

  Cuthbert and Brother John eventually reached the tiny village of Whalley one afternoon on a glorious autumn day. Their journey had not been long but it was certainly leisurely. Brother John was in no hurry to complete his mission and Cuthbert wondered whether he perhaps enjoyed these forays into the outer world, a welcome change to the disciplined life within the Abbey. During their many conversations Cuthbert had been surprised to learn that Brother John had come late
to the cloister having spent many years as a merchant travelling far and wide in England and abroad buying and selling fine fabrics and materials, wool and silk, dyes and fastenings from far flung places in many of the great cities Cuthbert had only heard about. Perhaps this wandering occupation he undertook now kept him in touch with people and places he once knew well. He certainly knew where the best taverns were, where they would be able to find a decent meal and a night’s lodging, who would welcome them and places that were best avoided for various reasons which he chose not to enlarge upon.

  Long before they reached the village itself they had seen the towering walls of the Abbey of Whalley, set in the valley of the River Calder.

  ‘Is it a large abbey?’ Cuthbert had asked.

  ‘Yes, though not as large as some of the others in the country but it is a wealthy place, with many benefactors willing to pay for the enhancement of our church and buildings in return for a place in our churchyard and prayers for their souls. Father Abbot is a strong and holy man, a good leader to his flock and well liked by the people of the village. He has much influence in the area and cares for all who come to him. We have extensive buildings as well as many farms under our care. The wool is profitable in a good year as is the timber from our forests, as well as the stone from our quarries. We have much arable land, tenanted of course, and we take fish from the river too. Yes, it is a rich living. You may find him stern at first but he has a good heart and rewards those who work for the greater glory of God in our Abbey Church.’

  They grew nearer and Cuthbert could see a great gatehouse in the stone wall, a building large enough to be a dwelling in any other setting.

  ‘Is this just the entrance?’ he marvelled, looking up at the great arches high above the path. They passed through one arch, walked through a lofty passageway and out through another arch into a courtyard. Brother John was smiling at the expression on the young man’s face.

  ‘Yes, just the entrance,’ he said, ‘and not the only one. The other is even bigger.’

  ‘Bigger!’ gasped Cuthbert, jumping out of the way of a cart being driven out of the courtyard. He stopped and stared about him, trying to take in the size of the buildings around him. The Abbey church was on his right. The arched windows and lofty walls towered higher than any building he had seen, even those he had known in Chester. He walked to the end of the wall and looked round the corner, along the side of the church.

  ‘That’s the chapterhouse over to the left,’ said Brother John, ‘and behind it is the east cloister with the monk’s dormitory above it.’ All around were great buildings, many of which he had never seen the like of. The stone work was spectacular, great arches leading into doorways or through into further open spaces. Carving of the stonework was crisper, cleaner, somehow greater than that he knew from Chester. Clearly a great deal of time and money had been spent here.

  Brother John was smiling at the boy’s awed expression.

  ‘I said that Abbot Paslew had rule over a fine house, a rich house. That’s his lodging over there, showing above that other building. But come, we are just in time for the evening meal. I will take you to meet the Abbot afterwards.’

  Trust Brother John to arrive in time for a meal, thought Cuthbert as he followed his friend along a paved path and down steps into an open cloister with arcades round all four sides. They walked to the end and paused at the lavatorium, the stone trough under a great arch where the monks washed their hands before going into the refectory.

  Cuthbert paused in the doorway and looked about him. The lofty roof soared above him, great oak beams supporting it. The windows were set high so that no distracting views would disturb the monks at their meal but each was arched, the tracery delicate and the glass clear to let in as much light as possible. At one end there were steps up to a projecting balcony from where one of the monks would read from Holy Scripture or some other religious text whilst the monks ate. The room was laid out with oak trestle tables lined with wooden benches where the men sat to eat.

  As they entered all eyes turned to see who the visitors were and, recognising Brother John, they were beckoned over to a table where there was room for them to sit. A stillness settled over the whole assembly as Grace was intoned in Latin and once the meal started the lay servants carried in the food from the kitchen next door. The meal was taken in silence apart from the voice of the reader on the balcony. Bowls of a healthy looking pottage were laid before each man and once all were served, they took up their wooden spoons and ate. Cuthbert was pleased to find it was very tasty, a mixture of vegetables and oatmeal, cooked slowly over the fire, with hunks of freshly baked bread on a central platter which was handed round. As silence was the rule the monks had developed a sign language whereby they could ask for something along the table and Cuthbert watched as water jugs or bread were passed from person to person.

  When Cuthbert had wiped the last of the pottage out of his bowl with his bread he sat back and listened to the reading. It was a new experience to eat in silence, there had always been lively conversation round the table at mealtimes with Mildred and Jethro, discussing the work they had been doing, gossip Mildred had picked up at the market, news of weddings and burials, of new babies and christenings, life in the city. It had been a favourite time, a relaxed and easy end to a busy day. He was not sure whether he could face a lifetime of silent meals.

  At last the meal was finished and the reader came to the end of his appointed text. Another lengthy grace followed then, as one, everyone stood up, scraping their benches back on the stone floor, and filed out to whatever task they now had to perform.

  ‘Follow me,’ whispered Brother John as they walked out into the cloisters again. ‘I will take you to see Abbot Paslew then show you where you will sleep. Come on.’

  Compared to the rest of the monastery Abbot Paslew’s private quarters were luxurious, for an Abbey that preached poverty, chastity and obedience. Immediately Cuthbert was aware of a richness unseen elsewhere in the abbey. A large fireplace graced one wall, though unlit at this time of year. Rugs were spread on the stone floor, there were tapestries on the wall, the furniture was far from the basic quality seen so far and Abbot Paslew was dressed in a habit of the finest wool with a colourful silken sash about his waist. Behind him Cuthbert could see several dishes left from his meal with the remains of meat and fish, rich sauces and sweet dishes upon them. No pottage for Father Abbot.

  Brother John bowed to his Superior.

  ‘Father, I have returned from my journey and have brought with me Cuthbert Watts, a craftsman in wood. Father I have seen his work at the Abbey Church of St Werburgh in Chester and feel sure that he will only enhance our work here with his undoubted skill.’

  Cuthbert looked at the man before him. He was of middle age, tall with greying hair around his tonsure. His face was long with a narrow nose, thin lips and piercing dark eyes which were observing Cuthbert with a steely stare. Cuthbert imagined he would be a strict leader who would deal sternly with whoever came before him, whether a monk or a merchant, a farmer or a tradesman. He was not a man to get on the wrong side of. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable under this unblinking stare.

  ‘So,’ said the Abbot at last. ‘You are from Chester. A fine city with a faithful congregation. Do you attend the Abbey Church regularly?’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ replied Cuthbert, feeling as he had when standing before the priest after he had been caught laughing with some other boys during the Easter Mass. Hopefully there would not be a beating to follow.

  ‘A carpenter and woodcarver? Are you apprenticed?

  ‘I was apprenticed to Jethro Milton, master carver in Chester for seven years. I completed my time with him but was working under him until he died. I learned all I know from him, he took me into his home when my parents died and has treated me as a son ever since. I must make my own way now.’

  ‘Very commendable. You are a fine carver, according to Brother John here. What work has he seen of yours?’

  C
uthbert looked to Brother John for help.

  ‘I saw much of the work Jethro and Cuthbert had been working on, both in construction and decoration of several buildings in the city but my attention was particularly drawn to a marvellous chest which he had decorated for the Abbey library. Father, the carving upon it was the finest I think I have ever seen. Crisp and clean, beautifully worked with flowers and creatures, all in exquisite detail down to the eyes of the birds and mice upon the chest.’

  ‘A ringing account to be sure,’ said Father Paslew, and a slight smile split his lips, then was gone. Cuthbert felt it was a rare occurrence for him to lighten his expression. ‘Young man, only the finest of work is seen in our Abbey. I do not allow shoddy or lazy work. We have much wealth from generous benefactors so I can afford the best to work to the greater glory of our Abbey. Do you think you could achieve such high standards?’

  Cuthbert squared his shoulders and looked him in the eye.

  ‘Yes, Father. I too believe only the best work should be created, be it a humble door latch or a great carving. Jethro taught me thus and I will continue to do so myself.’

  He held his breath and waited for a reply.

  ‘Then we shall see. Tomorrow I shall allot you a task to be completed by the end of the day. Then we shall see if you are worthy to work here.’

  He turned away and Cuthbert took this as their dismissal. He followed Brother John out of the room.

  ‘I think he approves of you,’ said Brother John.

  ‘Really? He seemed very … very …’

  ‘Severe? Yes, he can be but I think he liked what he saw and what you said. Tomorrow will be a test. If you please him with whatever he asks you to do, you will be safe.’

  Brother John led Cuthbert round the cloister pointing out the arched doorway leading to the chapter house, the recessed cupboards where the precious books were kept and the stone seat where the monks sat while they worked on copying and illuminating the manuscripts. The whole way round was covered, allowing their work to continue whatever the weather, but the central square was open to the sky and, at this time of day a welcome sunny spot for prayer or private contemplation.