The Rufford Rose

by Margaret Lambert

  ‘I … I … must have got it on yesterday.’

  ‘Did anyone see Will doing any painting yesterday?’ asked Cuthbert of the gathering group of men. They all shook their heads. ‘Let’s have a look in your tool bag.’ He pushed Will back into the room and threw him down on his bed. Bending down he pulled Will’s tool bag from underneath and tipped it out on the floor. He picked up a small axe with the tip of his fingers and looked at it. ‘If you haven’t been out all night would you like to tell me how smears of green paint are on the blade of this, and on the handle too?’ He touched one carefully. ‘Still wet.’ He glared at Will. ‘Well? Can you explain?’

  ‘I … I … Someone must have borrowed it,’ he stuttered.

  ‘Rubbish! You saw me take the carving up to the solar yesterday. Suddenly very friendly, weren’t you? You knew I was going to put it up today so you decided to damage it, like you damaged the table in the Great Hall last week. If we take you and this axe to the solar now, what do you think we’ll find? Eh?’

  ‘How should I know? It wasn’t me who smashed it.’

  ‘How do you know it was smashed? I didn’t say it was smashed, just that it was damaged. It was you, wasn’t it, you worthless creature?’

  ‘It could be anyone,’ blustered Will. ‘Lots of people use green paint.’

  ‘Not this green paint. I mixed this specially last night. It’s not the same as any other green paint around here. Shall we go and match it up?’

  He hauled Will up from the bed and they marched him across the site and up the stairs into the solar. Cuthbert pulled out Will’s hand and wiped some more of the green paint onto it from the broken carving. It matched perfectly.

  ‘What do you have to say now?’ he shouted.

  ‘What’s going on here? Why aren’t you all at work?’ demanded a furious Abel from the doorway. ‘As if the days aren’t short enough without you wasting time up here. Get about your work.’

  ‘We have been discovering who has been wrecking Cuthbert’s work.’ Alfred spoke up and there was a murmur of agreement from everyone else.

  ‘What are you talking about? What has been wrecked?’

  ‘The table last week and now this.’ Cuthbert held out the piece of broken wood. ‘You agreed yesterday to me putting this up but Will, here, had other ideas. He smashed it with his axe during the night.’

  ‘Why would he do that? What proof have you got that it was him?’ Abel stood in front of Cuthbert and growled at him.

  ‘Footprints in the snow. Green paint on his axe and his hands and probably on his clothes if we look.’

  ‘Anyone can get hold of green paint,’ replied Abel scathingly.

  ‘Not this. I mixed it specially last night. You won’t find an exact match anywhere ion the place. He as good as admitted it when we confronted him.’

  ‘He would admit to anything if you all ganged up on him.’

  ‘He’s guilty,’ said Alfred. ‘He’s had it in for Cuthbert ever since he got here. You have no idea what he has been up to behind your back, Abel. He wants Cuthbert off the site but it’s Will you should get rid of.’

  ‘Don’t you tell me who I can employ,’ yelled Abel. ‘I’ve known Will for years, I trained him. It’s this mad man who has been causing all the trouble.’ He jabbed a finger at Cuthbert. ‘He’s the one who should be going but I can’t get rid, can I? He’s the favourite round here.’ He glared round all the faces. ‘Now get back to work, all of you.’ Grabbing hold of Will’s arm he hauled him out of the room and down the stairs.

  ‘Will’s for it now,’ said Alfric. ‘What do you think he’ll do to him? He’s not going to get rid of him.’

  ‘That’s for him to sort out.’ Cuthbert sighed. ‘The best we can do is get back to work.’

  ‘What about your carving? Will you do another?’

  ‘Yes, and I’ll put it up myself.’

  It was only to be expected that there would be repercussions from the night’s events. As everyone went back to their work it was soon clear to all that Will was getting a severe telling off from Abel. The two could be heard shouting all over the site and when Will emerged from the woodshed he was sporting a black eye and a bloody nose. He got no sympathy from any of them and slunk off towards the Mere. Nobody was sorry to see him go. Good riddance was the general opinion.

  Cuthbert didn’t expect to be let off however and before long he heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs in the west wing. He had been gathering up the mess Will had left, trying to rub out the paint marks he had left on the floor boards. He turned as Abel launched himself at him, taking his full weight on his left side as Abel hit him at full speed. Cuthbert went down hard, knocking the breath out of him but Abel was on him straight away, kicking and punching in fury, swearing at him, threatening to maim him, kill him, anything to get rid of him. Abel was beside himself with fury, taking out his anger on the one person he saw was to blame, calling him every name he could think of as blow after blow landed. Cuthbert curled into a ball, trying to protect himself.

  Suddenly the room was full of people as the men tried to pull Abel away but he was strong and it was several minutes before they managed and dragged a yelling and kicking Abel out and down the stairs. Alfred knelt down beside Cuthbert.

  ‘Are you all right, lad?’ he asked, as Cuthbert uncurled and looked with relief into his face. ‘We saw Abel come in and feared the worst after what he did to Will. Gave him a beating too, not that he didn’t deserve it.’

  Cuthbert spat out a tooth and sat up, wincing at the pain in his side and on his thighs where Abel had kicked him. He had a deep cut on his forehead which was bleeding heavily, and another on his ear which was still ringing from the blow.

  ‘I’ll survive,’ he gasped. ‘It’s not the first time after all,’ He struggled to stand and had to lean on Alfred’s shoulder.

  ‘We’ll get you to Liliath,’ said Harry, taking his other arm and between them they half carried Cuthbert down the stairs.

  ‘Best get back to work’ said Alfred to the others. ‘We’ll see to him.’

  The men drifted back to work, discussing what had happened and wondering whatever would happen now.

  Liliath was shocked to see the state of Cuthbert and set to work to clean his wounds. Jehan and Jacob immediately set out to find Will, not so much to give aid as make sure he wasn’t creating trouble anywhere else. They searched his billet but no one had seen him, so they made their way towards the Mere where they knew he spent a lot of his time but despite a thorough search could find no trace of him.

  ‘Let’s hope he’s gone and drowned himself,’ muttered Jacob. ‘Best thing for him, and us.’

  ‘Probably couldn’t even do that properly,’ answered Jehan. ‘He’ll get a beating from me if he causes any more trouble.’

  They worked their way back towards the house, stopping at Ezekial’s home on the way to tell them what had happened. They were horrified and Jennet wanted to go to Cuthbert straight away. Her mother advised strongly against it.

  ‘Your mother’s right, lass,’ said Alfred. ‘The lad’s in no fit state to see anyone. Maybe tomorrow. Liliath will look after him but knowing Cuthbert he will be back tomorrow. Meanwhile, you take care. If you see any sign of Will, keep well clear and tell one of the men.’

  ‘He’s right, love,’ said Hester. ‘You and you sisters must stay close. I don’t trust that Will. Until he’s found or turns up of his own accord you are not to set foot out of this house, any of you.’

  The twins looked scared stiff and Jennet reluctantly agreed though she longed to go to Cuthbert. Her parents exchanged glances over her head. He clearly meant a lot to her.

  Will was hiding in his lair among the reeds, certain that he would not be found there. He heard Jehan and Jacob searching for him and kept still and quiet until they had passed. He tore a strip off his tunic and bathed his swollen eye with cold water from the Mere, wiped away the blood from his nose, which he was certain was broken, and nurtured the hatred in his hea
rt. He would kill Cuthbert for this. He would kill Abel for turning on him. He would find and kill the parents who had abandoned him at birth. His fury knew no bounds. He would find out who he really was and he would make everyone sorry they had ever crossed him. Yes, he would, every last one of them. He was not going to let this go. Never, Never. Never.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Abel walked off in a fury, heading he knew not where. His anger frightened him. It was so unlike him. If Dora had still been alive he would never have behaved as he had been doing lately. Things had never upset him to this degree before so why should it happen now? Why was he lashing out so violently? Was he just getting old? He walked on along the track heading north until he calmed down then turned and retraced his steps, wondering what he was going to do now.

  Ezekial, worried about the younger man, had gone in search of him. He had worked with him for many years, supplying the wood he needed for whatever he was building. It was so unlike him to behave in this way and he wanted to make sure he was all right.

  He met him coming along the path from the north. He looked calmer now than when he had stormed off though still not his usual self. Something was troubling him.

  ‘How about we stop by the ale house?’ he suggested as he came abreast. ‘You look as though you could do with getting some things off your chest.’

  At first, he thought Abel was going to ignore him and walk past, but he stopped, looked Ezekial in the eye and said, quietly,

  ‘Aye, I’ve got to talk to someone. I’ve got mesel’ in a mess, haven’t I?’

  ‘You could say that,’ said Ezekial with a gentle smile. ‘Come on, let’s set the world to rights over a jar or two.’

  It was only a short distance to the ale house. Few people were there so early so they took their drinks into a quiet corner and sat on a bench against the wall. For a while nothing was said then Abel spoke quietly.

  ‘I dunno what’s matter wi’ me. Can’t settle to nowt. I’m all … all a muddle in me ’ead. I can do me work but I can’t cope wi’ anything else, not Will and his laziness nor Cuthbert being pushed onto me when I don’t need him. Any upset gets me mad and I lash out.’ He looked sideways at Ezekial. ‘You’ve known me nigh on twenty year. What’s t’ matter wi’ me, eh? Why am I like this? I know Will has his faults but I can’t stand him anymore. And I know yon Cuthbert’s a fine craftsman but I resent him. Why?’

  Ezekial took a long swig of his ale before answering.

  ‘I reckon you’re missing Dora more than you’ll admit. You allus had her to talk to at the end of the day, to sort out your problems with. She was taken so sudden that you can’t accept that she’s gone. Now you’ve no one to settle those things in your head anymore. She was a grand woman, was Dora, allus had an answer to a problem and you’re missing that.’

  ‘Aye, mebbe you’re right.’ Abel peered in to the depths of his drink. ‘We allus talked did me and Dora. She had that gift of seeing the way out of a problem when I couldn’t. Tek Will, for example. When I took him on we knew he had problems but they didn’t seem so bad at first, we saw him as a lost young lad who needed somewhere he could grow and become a young man, somewhere where he could have a settled life. He were fine at first but he would never make a master joiner, passable one mebbe, but not a great one. Too lazy for one thing, soon bored by a job if it were takin’ too long.’

  ‘I gather the others get annoyed with him for not doing what he’s supposed to. You know he had no idea how to put that arch together, don’t you? It was Cuthbert who put it right, then Will took the credit.’ Ezekial drank deeply, then got to his feet. ‘Another?’

  ‘Aye, go on,’ said Abel, handing his mug over. Ezekial went for a refill, carrying their drinks back to the corner.

  ‘I know Cuthbert’s a good worker,’ Abel said, taking the drink from Ezekial. ‘It’s the way he was dropped on me that I object to. I was caught on a bad day. I’d dreamt of Dora and couldn’t get her out of me head. It allus makes me upset when that happens, as though she’s there, trying to tell me summat. What with being ordered about by Lord Hesketh, wanting this and that changed, new ideas I can’t be doing with, then Lord Derby ordering me to take on Cuthbert to do special carving when we hadn’t even built the place, it was too much. Left to meself I can get on wi’ job. Heaven’s above! I’ve built more houses like this than they’ve ever seen and there’s never been anything wrong with any of ‘em. I were building ’ouses afore the young lord were born! And there he is changing things what I know work. It were all too much, too much to cope wi’ alone.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ said Ezekial. ‘I dunno what I would do wi’out my Hester. It took me long enough to find her but I dunno how I coped afore.’ He leaned back against the wall and stared in to the distance. ‘We all of us need someone special, someone to rely on, to complain to, to … love, I suppose. You were lucky wi’ Dora and I’m lucky wi’ my Hester, I reckon I’d go to pieces wi’out ’er and that’s what’s happened to you. You’re lost.’

  ‘Aye, you’re right there. That’s what it is. I’m lost, but what do I do about it? I can’t go around using my fists to sort out problems, can I?’ He looked at Ezekial. ‘Have I hurt t’lad badly?’

  ‘Which one? You gave them both a pasting from what I hear. Cuthbert’s gone to Liliath, no one knows where Will is. He allus goes off on his own. What is it with that lad? Where does he come from? Do you know?’

  There was a long silence. Abel drank deeply, wiped his sleeve across his mouth and sat forward, staring at the floor between his feet.

  ‘It’s not easy,’ he said at last. ‘I know about him but I don’t want to talk on it. He’s got some big ideas in his head, that’s what he’s on about.’

  ‘I’ve heard as much but is he right?’

  ‘Some of it is, yes, but not all. He’s woven a tale about it that he has grown to believe and the more he thinks on it, the more he imagines it’s true, and it ain’t. Every time I hear what he’s been saying he’s added a bit more but he believes every word he says is the truth. It’s all a muddle now and I don’t know how to stop him’ He groaned. ‘My Dora would have known what to do, set him straight she would, make no mistake but I don’t have the words to do it.’ He glanced up at Ezekial. ‘So what do I do?’

  ‘Tell him the truth. Stop him making it worse before he does himself or someone else any harm. You are the only one who can set him straight.’

  ‘You may be right but I’ll have to do it at the right time. If I choose wrong he’ll fly off the handle.’

  ‘Where will he have gone now? Any idea?’

  ‘Not really. He’s a loner, is Will. People don’t like him so he hasn’t anyone he would go to. Keeps his own company. I don’t know where he is when he’s not working, certainly doesn’t tell me. I sometimes think he despises me too even though I’ve tried to teach him all he knows.’

  ‘Why did you keep him on when you realised he wasn’t any good?’

  Abel shifted uneasily on his seat.

  ‘It’s complicated,’ he muttered. Suddenly he sat up. ‘Best be getting back. Work to do.’

  He was up and away in a trice and Ezekial looked after him in surprise. Whatever it was there were deep secrets somewhere in the relationship between Abel and Will that he wasn’t prepared to divulge. It only added to the mystery. Had his talk been of any good? He couldn’t tell. Perhaps he had caused more problems than he’d solved.

  He drained his mug, shivered in the failing light of the day and went outside. He looked about but could see no sign of either Abel or Will. Where had the lad gone? To lick his wounds no doubt. Well, there was no point trying to find him when he had no idea where to look. He turned towards home. There was a lot to think about but at least he and his family were safe, secure and, as far as he knew, happy, at least Jennet was. He smiled as he thought of his eldest daughter who was clearly falling in love with the young carpenter. She wouldn’t do any better than choose Cuthbert. Ezekial liked the lad for his straightf
orward honesty and decency. He was a hard worker, talented beyond any of the others. He would go far if he could just survive the wrath of Abel and the jealousy of Will. He turned towards the forge, eager to see how he was, how badly he had been injured and see if there was anything he could do.

  ***

  Will shivered in his lair and pulled his short cloak around him. His face hurt and he could hardly see out of his eye. He didn’t deserve the beating Abel had given him. He may have spoiled the table but it had been put right, hadn’t it? Master carver Cuthbert had mended it, of course. Done it to spite him probably, show he wasn’t going to take notice of him. Well, he’d take notice when he did something that couldn’t be mended. He smiled, winced as his sore face stretched, then huddled closer and began to make his plans to show them all that he deserved better, that he was better than any of them. He’d show them.

  ***

  Liliath dealt with Cuthbert’s injuries as she had before though there was nothing she could do about his missing tooth except staunch the bleeding.

  ‘Good thing you’ve got some to spare,’ she said, wiping the blood off his chin, and drew a small smile from Cuthbert. ‘As for this cut on your head, you’re going to have a scar, I’m afraid, but it won’t spoil your handsome features.’ She salved his other cuts and applied a lotion to his bruises. ‘You’re in for another uncomfortable night,’ she said, standing back and looking at the mass of bruises on his body, ‘and this time I am going to insist you have a sleeping draught. No, no objection! Your body needs sleep to recover from this.’

  Cuthbert was too sore to resist and after a dish of her soup he was only too glad to curl up on his bed and surrender to the draught.

  Jehan, Jacob and Liliath sat down and were discussing what they could do when Ezekial arrived.

  ‘How is Cuthbert?’ he asked.

  ‘Asleep,’ said Liliath. ‘Not quite as bad as last time but this can’t carry on. Why did Abel do it?’

  ‘I’ve just been talking to him,’ said Ezekial, and sat down to tell them what had occurred.