The Rufford Rose

by Margaret Lambert

  They were approaching the door into the church but Brother John turned away.

  ‘We will have more time tomorrow for you to see the work being done in there,’ he said. ‘For now I had better show you to the lay brothers dormitory where a bed will be found for you while you are working here. It is this way, above the west cloister.’ They entered through a door in the corner and mounted the flight of stone stairs, ending in a long room that ran the whole length of the building. The roof above was of bare timbers but, to Cuthbert’s trained eye, very well constructed. Brother John noticed the direction of his gaze and smiled.

  ‘Already looking at the building I see,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry, I can’t help it. It’s what Jethro always did when we went into an unknown building. He could often tell exactly who had designed and built it, just by looking at it and I have caught the habit.’

  ‘Does it meet with your approval? Is it safe? Will it fall upon you in the night?’

  ‘No. No, no, it is good. Well built.’ Cuthbert was feeling embarrassed now.

  ‘Come, I will introduce you to Stephen, he is in charge of the lay brothers and will show you where you may lay your head, for I am sure you are weary after our long journey.’

  Stephen was at the far end of the room talking to one of the lay brothers. He turned as he heard their approach and came forward in greeting.

  ‘Brother John. I had heard you had returned from your travels. All went well I trust?’

  ‘Very well,’ replied Brother John. ‘I visited several of our granges as instructed and all are expecting a good harvest this year so our store barns will be full, thank the Lord.’

  ‘Thank the Lord, indeed. Now who have we here? Not a new brother, I think. You have the look of a craftsman.’

  ‘This is Cuthbert, a woodcarver and craftsman, come to enhance our Abbey I hope. Father Abbot will give him a task tomorrow to see whether he is up to our standards,’

  Stephen laughed.

  ‘He will be, if he has had your recommendation already. You know Father Abbot trusts your judgement implicitly. See how many fine craftsmen you have already brought to us from your travels.’ He looked sideways at Cuthbert. ‘If Brother John likes your work that is all we need to know. Now come, you will be needing a bed whilst you are with us. Let me see, there is one at the end of this row. There are blankets on the shelf over there. Some of the lay brothers will rise for the services during the night but you do not need to join them in the Abbey Church for every service, only the monks have to do that. Our main purpose is to do all the work so that they can spend their time in prayer and contemplation, that is our service to God. We rise early so try to get a good night’s sleep. You will meet the brothers as they come in.’

  Cuthbert found it strange to go to bed in a room with so many other people. He had had a tiny room of his own, above the porch, in the house in Chester, and after he had settled down for the night in this long dormitory it took a while to go to sleep with the sounds of other people breathing, someone snoring, others moving restlessly on their hard bed despite the straw mattress. Eventually he drifted off, wondering what the morrow would bring.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Great Harwood

  1529

  ‘That is it, then. He has won. All is lost. The Hesketh name will be borne by a bastard, we will be disgraced, scorned, demeaned.’ Dowsabel sighed deeply and sank back on the cushions of her chair. ‘All those years of appealing to every court in the land, all that money paid to lawyers and lords and judges and it has all been wasted. Nothing. We have nothing.’

  ‘Oh, come, sister,’ said Margery. ‘We may have lost the inheritance which should have been ours and our children’s but we can still punish Thomas for what he has done to us.’

  ‘How? Lord Derby himself came to tell us of the final ruling. There is nothing more we can do. We have to face it, we have lost.’

  ‘Don’t be such a defeatist. We can revile the boy, ignore him and his children, refuse to receive any of them, speak only ill of them all. The county families will be on our side.’

  ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Maud from her seat by the fire. She put down the piece of embroidery she had been working on, listening all the while to her two sisters. ‘Remember who his chief supporter was. Lord Derby has stood by the man from the very beginning. We cannot forget what high regard he had for our brother, high enough to trust him with the care of the Derby fortune all those years. People will have more regard for the Derby family than for us. Who are we in the pecking order of the nobility?’

  ‘The Hesketh family have been one of the prominent families of the north for generations. Look at all the land we have acquired, the properties, the honours that have been bestowed upon our ancestors by kings, the important families we have married into. We are not minor beings to be ignored,’ argued Dowsabel. ‘We all have prominent husbands. Or had.’

  ‘As widows that is all the more reason why we should have had the Hesketh fortune,’ cried Margery through gritted teeth. ‘Our husbands are all dead, all three of our brothers are dead, we only have ourselves to look out for now.’

  ‘That is unfortunate,’ agreed Maud, ‘but the Hesketh name rose high even in these times. Was not Hugh the Bishop of Man? Was not Richard Attorney-General to His Majesty the King?’ The Hesketh name will rise again, I am sure. There is no point fighting against what cannot be changed.’

  ‘Do you not care?’ said Margery.

  ‘Yes, of course I care but we are all well provided for by our late husbands, we have our own families and households to care for. Yes, I am bitterly disappointed that our eldest brother could not look to his sisters but it was his fortune to dispose of as he saw fit and I suppose he must have cared for that woman a great deal to do what he has done. We have to take counsel of what Lord Derby said. That is the end of the matter and no amount of money or time will change it. Bitter as it is we have got to accept it. Speaking ill of his heir and trying to disclaim him will do us no good, no good at all, so we may as well accept it.’

  ‘I agree with Maud,’ said Dowsabel. ‘It is over, we lost. Accept it. But I will never set eyes upon that man again as long as I live.’

  ‘You may be prepared to accept defeat but I most certainly will not.’ With a swirl of skirts Margery flounced out of the room, closing the door very firmly behind her.

  ‘Oh dear, poor Margery,’ said Dowsabel, going to the window to look out over the garden. ‘She always had a sharp tongue and a quick temper. I knew she would never accept the court’s ruling. Father always indulged her rather than face one of her tantrums. Well this is one time when she will never get what she wants.’

  Maud joined her sister at the window. They linked arms as they watched one of the gardeners gathering flowers for the house.

  ‘Why does life have to be so complicated?’ mused Maud, ‘I think I will return home. There are so many tasks I need to be attending to.’

  ‘Oh Maud, ever the peacemaker.’ Dowsabel kissed her sister on the brow. ‘Why are you so calm?’

  ‘Because there is no point getting upset about something we can’t do anything about. When we were all young, growing up together, I used to watch you two, listen to your arguments and disputes and wonder why you could get so upset over such trivial things: the colour of a hair ribbon, the name for a new puppy, who was going to sit on father’s knee. There was only ever room for two anyway,’ she smiled. ‘I suppose I was one of life’s observers, learning from my elder’s mistakes and deciding not to go that way. Hugh left me well provided for, I am happy and content with my life. You would do well to look to your own family. Margery will calm down when she lets her anger cool. All this arguing has tired me. I am going home.’

  The three sisters departed for their own homes the next day. Widowhood was something they all settled into easily, it was to be expected in these troubled times and their lives returned to peaceful routine in their respective homes. But not for long.

  It was late in 15
29 when Maud invited her two sisters to her home at North Meols. Intrigued by the unexpected letters they came with all haste. Barely had they got through the door than Maud stood before them in her private solar with an indecipherable expression upon her face.

  ‘You will never guess what rumours I have heard,’ she started. ‘Yesterday I was invited to view Alice Greystones new herb garden and knottery.’

  ‘That must have been exciting for you,’ replied Dowsabel sarcastically. ‘A new herb garden! Since when have you been interested in herbs?’

  ‘It wasn’t the garden that excited me but one of her other friends. Lady Astley was there.’

  Her sisters looked expectantly at her waiting for the revelation which had drawn them both here. Maud continued.

  ‘Lady Astley is a great friend of Lady Derby, you know, and she says that her husband, Lord Derby has been advising our brother’s boy.’

  ‘Advising?’ said Margery cautiously.

  ‘Yes, advising. It seems the boy is going to build a new house worthy of the Hesketh name, he says, and he went to Lord Derby to ask about funds to do so and where he thought might be a suitable site for the undertaking.’

  ‘The impertinence!’ cried Dowsabel. ‘I knew there would be trouble there.’

  ‘What did Lord Derby tell him? Do you know?’ asked Margery.

  Maud looked from Margery to Dowsabel and back.

  ‘Oh, yes! It seems that our dear brother, Thomas, has been squirreling money away for years and there is a substantial sum in safe keeping for the boy. That can now be returned to the boy for whatever purpose he wants to use it and he has plans for a grand house.’

  ‘Where might this “grand house” be? Not near me, I hope. I could not stand to have him crowing over us,’ said Margery.

  ‘Rufford!’ exclaimed Maud triumphantly.

  The three sisters looked at each other, none of them wanting to admit that they weren’t quite sure where this was.

  ‘I believe it is a little place to the west somewhere. We visited once, didn’t we?’ asked Dowsabel. ‘There’s a small draughty place beside a lake, very damp and dismal if I remember. Father said it was one of our older houses. We didn’t use it much, preferring our home at Great Harwood.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. Didn’t father say that way back it belonged to one of our ancestors, that’s why his title was Lord of Rufford?’ asked Margery.

  ‘So he did,’ agreed Maud. ‘Well, he’s welcome to it. Cold, damp, miles from anywhere important, let him build his grand house in the back of beyond. We don’t have to pass it or even go near it. I wouldn’t set foot in it anyway and I hope you two agree.’ Her sisters nodded in agreement.

  ‘I do wonder though, just how much money Thomas has set aside for him,’ queried Margery. ‘Still we will never know now though I wish he had made an equal gift for each of us. It is not fair.’

  ‘Don’t start worrying about it, Margery,’ cautioned Dowsabel. ‘You made yourself ill over the court case. Don’t do that again.’

  ‘I won’t,’ said Margery, ‘but I can’t help wondering, can I?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  1528

  Cuthbert rose early, as was his custom and made his way to the church along with many of the lay brothers. It was not expected that all the lay brothers would attend all the services during the day but they were expected to attend once, at least. Their presence in the Abbey did not require them to be able to read or write either as most of them had no need to, their work was the manual labour required to keep the Abbey running smoothly. Cuthbert was unusual in that he could both read and write, it had been necessary when working with Jethro. He did, however, appreciate the beauty of all he saw around him when he entered the great church.

  His eyes immediately rose to the soaring roof high above the nave. Eight great pillars marched down each side of the full length of the building, reaching high to support the span of the roof way above his head. Great windows down each side flooded the building with light, their tracery both delicate and decorative, supporting beautifully coloured glass that splashed bright patches of vivid colour across the walls and floor. The floor tiles were highly decorative, arranged in intricate patterns. Everywhere he looked there was carving, in wood and stone. Faces peered down from dark corners, angels supported roofbeams, patterns in the arches of doorways and windows were richly decorated, many in designs he knew from other buildings, but some in patterns he had never before witnessed. A great screen divided the choir from the presbytery, the bell tower soaring above at the crossing point of the transepts, supported on four more mighty pillars. Figures of saints looked down from the walls, side chapels held ornate altars and memorials. The choir stalls were exceptional, richly carved, ornate and beautiful but he could not see them closely during the service for they were filled with the monks who raised their voices in worship.

  Cuthbert remembered little of that first service in the church, so taken up was he with looking in awe at the splendour around him and wondering what he could do that would be worthy of this place. Where was there room for more decoration, more space for glorification of this building? As the service ended he stumbled out into the cloister, his mind full of what he had seen, and he sat down on one of the stone seats along the side wall whilst he gathered his thoughts.

  ‘Ah, I saw you in the church,’ said Brother John, sitting down beside him. ‘What do you think of our splendid building?’

  ‘Magnificent. I do not know how I can do anything worthy of it.’

  ‘Oh, you will, you will. Now, have you broken your fast?’

  ‘No, I went straight to the church, I could not wait to see it.’

  ‘Then I had better take you to the kitchens, see if I can beg some bread for you as the rest of the brothers have already eaten.’

  A bowl of gruel was found for their guest when Brother John explained that he was a great woodcarver come to enhance their Abbey. Cuthbert wasn’t so sure about the ringing recommendation but he was grateful for the food and ate it quickly.

  ‘Abbot Paslew will send for you after Chapter. If you would like to look round the rest of the Abbey you are very welcome. I will come and find you.’

  Cuthbert walked right round the outside of the Abbey Church. The warm stone was perfect for such a beautiful building. Many arched windows with buttresses between and flying buttresses above to support the towering walls, were all decorated with tracery and finials and statues. The doors were solid oak. Everything was built to last, as it had done for the last two centuries. Succeeding generations of monks had worked and worshipped here, every generation adding to its glory and he was in awe of their skill and craftsmanship. Even the buildings housing all the domestic offices, the refectory, the dormitories, the infirmary, the Chapter house and the reredorter were built on the same grand scale and everywhere he looked the lay brothers were busy about their duties, in the kitchen, in the cloister, tending the animals in the stables and pig sties, in the herb garden and in the fields beyond. Yet there was an order and peacefulness about the place, no raised voices, no people running from place to place. Cuthbert felt the calm order of the life they lived here.

  He was standing near the great arched gateway he had entered by when Brother John found him.

  ‘Father Abbot will see you now,’ he said, and led the way through the grounds to the Abbot’s lodging where they had made their first visit yesterday. This time they were shown into a different room which looked more like a place of business. There were tables piled with scrolls and documents waiting to be dealt with, two standing desks where two of the brothers were busy writing. The number of candlesticks arrayed around the room showed that work clearly continued into the night and a great fireplace, although cold and empty now, would make this a very warm room to work in in the cold weather. The monks only had their one warming room where a fire was allowed but the Abbot liked his comforts.

  Abbot Paslew was standing by one of the desks talking to the brother. He turned to greet Brother
John and Cuthbert.

  ‘I trust you had a restful night,’ he said and went to sit behind a large table with a number of plans and charts laid out on it.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ replied Cuthbert.

  ‘I have given careful thought to what task we may find for you here at our Abbey and I have decided that some work in the choir stalls is needed. Let us go and see.’

  They made their way in silence back to the Abbey Church. Abbot Paslew was clearly not a man to talk unnecessarily. They entered through the door used by the monks to attend services and made their way to the area where the monks sat for worship. Two rows of narrow wooden seats on opposite sides of the nave faced each other. Each was beautifully carved with a canopied back to the rearmost row on each side. The misericords, the narrow seats upon which the monks could rest during services, tipped up and the undersides would be richly carved with a variety of subjects. Cuthbert longed to look at them more closely as he knew from the Abbey Church in Chester that some of the woodcarver’s finest work was often to be seen here. There was a wooden rest in front and the end of each row was carved as well. Abbot Paslew led the way to the far end then turned round to face them. He pointed down towards the floor.

  ‘See, down there. The carving has been broken off or damaged by the passage of many feet. Can you make something to replace it?’

  Cuthbert’s dream of producing some wonderful piece for display immediately took a fall. He was being asked to do something right down in the furthest, darkest corner where few would ever see it. Hardly the great work he had expected. He knelt down on the tiled floor, careful not to bang his head on the narrow seat, and looked at the base of the wooden support. In the gloom he could just make out that there had been some sort of decorative carving round the base of the end post which had been worn away or broken off. He looked across at the other side but it was too dark to see what sort of thing had been worked there. Was he being tested in some way? If he could fulfil this task well perhaps he would be given something better to do. He must not show his disappointment. Remember what Jethro always said, ‘Even the humblest part must be your best. If no one else sees it, God will know it is there.’