The Rufford Rose

by Margaret Lambert

  ‘Poor man,’ she said. ‘He’s suffered in silence so far. He and Dora were devoted to each other but he always thought he would go before she did and when that didn’t happen his world was overturned. We should have seen this coming, we should have helped.’

  ‘How? He’s always been a private man, not one to share troubles. He just buried himself in his work and tried to carry on. When all’s going well he’s just like the old Abel. It’s all this other business that’s upset him, all this to-do with the house, Will’s laziness and Cuthbert’s arrival. I should have seen it coming.’

  ‘How could you? You just find and cut his wood, you don’t see him every day and you certainly don’t know what he does at night.’

  ‘Still I should have done something.’

  Suddenly the door was flung open and Jennet ran in, her hair loose about her shoulders, her shawl clutched at her throat.

  ‘Where is he? Is he all right? Is he badly hurt? Can I see him?’

  She looked from face to face. Her father stood up and took her in his arms.

  ‘He’s all right,’ he reassured her. ‘A bit knocked about but he’ll be fine. Now, what were you thinking coming out like this? Haven’t I told you not to come abroad on your own? It’s not safe.’

  ‘I had to see if he was all right, father.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I can’t bear for him to be hurt. Can I see him, please?’ She looked round at Liliath, pleading to be allowed.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said, ‘but don’t wake him if he’s asleep, do you understand?’

  Jennet nodded and followed Liliath through to the little room at the back of the forge where Cuthbert slept. The door creaked open and they went in. A candle was burning on a stool by the bed, enough for them to see that he was indeed asleep. Jennet gasped when she saw his face, the bandage round his head, the bruises and the blood stains on his tunic and in his hair. Liliath squeezed her arm.

  ‘It looks worse than it is. Nothing that won’t heal in time.’

  Jennet looked into his face, the face of the one she loved and felt a surge in her heart as though she too was hurt.

  ‘Can I sit with him for a little while, please? I won’t wake him. Please, just a little while.’

  Liliath understood the girl’s pain and relented.

  ‘For a few minutes only. Don’t wake him and I’ll come back for you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ breathed Jennet, and moving the candle to a shelf, sat down on the little stool. Liliath slipped out of the room.

  Jennet looked at Cuthbert’s face. The bruising was beginning to show and there was a slight cut on his lip where the tooth had caught it when he was hit. His lips were slightly parted and she could see the gap. One ear was swollen. The bandage around his head made his hair stick up like a crown and she gently stroked it flat. Dried blood made it stiff and she longed to wash it clean.

  ‘Oh, Cuthbert,’ she breathed. ‘Why is Abel treating you so? What have you done to deserve this?’ She held the hand that was lying on top of the rough blanket, feeling callouses on the palm from hard work, noting the broken nail on one finger, the grime down several of the others, healing cuts from small nicks picked up from his work. A workman’s hand, hard and strong, yet gentle. It was the hand which had held her when he had rescued her from Will, the hand he had stroked her hair with when he saw she was upset, the hand she wanted to hold again. A tear slid down her cheek and she laid her head on his arm, willing him to get better so that they could be together.

  When Liliath came back a few minutes later she was touched to see the tenderness with which Jennet held his hand, and smiled. It was clear to see that the girl was in love and hurting for him. Gently she touched her shoulder and Jennet rose and followed her out of the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The following day calm was restored. Abel said nothing to Cuthbert beyond telling him what work to do. Will slunk around doing as little as possible as usual but looking at Abel from his one open eye. Everyone else got on with their work and did their best not to do anything to antagonise Abel. There was an atmosphere across the site that was almost tangible, as though everyone was waiting for something to happen though what that could be no one could tell. The house had to be built and the sooner the better, then they could all move on.

  Cuthbert continued constructing furniture, anything from simple benches for the Great Hall, supports for the trestle tables, to chests for storing food in the kitchens. He was grateful to be able to fill his days with good honest work and go to his bed tired at the end of the day. It was several days after the argument with Abel before he realised that wherever he was working, in the house or in the woodshed, he was never alone, there was always at least one of the other men with him. At first he thought nothing of it but when he was doing tasks which didn’t need more than one, or just walking between buildings, he began to suspect they were doing it deliberately. It was when Thomas followed him to the privies that he confronted his friend with his suspicions.

  ‘Are you following me?’ he asked, turning to face him.

  ‘Sort of,’ replied Thomas. ‘We want to make sure you aren’t the victim of any further attacks, that’s all.’

  ‘Attacks from Abel?’

  ‘And Will. It’s for your safety and for the rest of the men. There are undercurrents of unrest from those two and as you seem to be the victim of more than your fair share of, shall we say, bad temper from them, we are keeping an eye on you.’

  Cuthbert didn’t know what to say.

  ‘I don’t want to appear to be ungrateful but I thought I could take pretty good care of myself.’

  ‘Not when you are alone. Every time it has happened it’s when you were alone somewhere, did you not realise? They don’t do anything if there are others around.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ A cold shiver ran down his spine. ‘Thanks.’ It was a sobering thought that he needed to be protected and not a very pleasant one. ‘I’ll be more careful.’

  Later that day, as he ate his meal with Jehan and his family his thoughts turned to Jennet. What if she was to be hurt? He didn’t think Abel would do anything to a young girl but he wouldn’t put it past Will. What would he do if anything happened to her because of him?

  When the meal was finished he took the piece of carving from his bag that he had been working on for a while now. It was something that he wanted to give to Jennet when it was complete. He held it in his hands, turning it over and over.

  ‘What’s that you have there?’ asked Liliath. ‘Something new?’

  ‘Yes. It is something I saw once in Chester and I thought it would make a little gift for Jennet sometime. Do you like it?’

  ‘What is it? Let me see.’ She held out her hand and took the carving that Cuthbert had spent so many hours working on. It fitted neatly into the palm of her hand. ‘It’s wonderful!’ she exclaimed. ‘Beautiful! It looks like some sort of flower but I can’t quite place it. What is it?’

  ‘It’s a Tudor rose,’ he explained, ‘the badge of the House of Tudor. When the houses of York and Lancaster finally came together with the marriage of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, the red rose of Lancaster and the white rose of York were combined to form the Tudor rose you see there. It became the badge of the Tudors which I have seen on banners at celebrations in Chester. It is usually painted in red and white but I like the plain wooden version as much. Do you think Jennet will like it?’

  ‘Oh, Cuthbert, she will love it, especially as you have made it for her. When are you going to give it to her?’

  ‘I don’t know. It is difficult to see her on her own, her sisters are usually around and neither of us dare go anywhere alone to meet, especially now that Will seems bent on doing us harm. It is very difficult.’

  Liliath looked at his forlorn face, the face of a man in love but thwarted in his desires. She handed the carving back.

  ‘Leave it with me. I’ll think of something,’ she said, smiling at him.

  ***


  Early one morning in late November Abel called everyone together in the Great Hall before they started work. It was unusual for this to happen, he would normally have spoken to various groups of men about their particular area of the building or tasks they were involved in, and would see what everyone was doing during the course of the day. He was a good overseer and always knew exactly what was being done at any time. He carried a copy of the plans with him wherever he went, to check that everything was as it should be. Today the plans were laid out on the big table for all to see.

  When everyone was assembled he spoke to them all.

  ‘We can see the end of this building now, it should be finished within six months. The main structure is largely complete and the internal work is proceeding well. As you can see there have been a few changes to the original plans but those have been at the instigation of the owner, not me. I had hoped that he would allow us to finish the task without further interruptions. Much of the work yet to do is concerned with detail, particularly decorative detail. A lot of carving has been completed but there are still some areas where additional decoration is yet to be done. I put on my original plans the detail of work I expect to be done, patterns and designs I have used for years and which have always given satisfaction to the owner. I would expect those ideas to be used here without complaint or alteration. I know what works, what adds to the building’s finish, what people like. Look at these drawings and you will see what I mean. There’s nothing too fancy, nothing that spoils the overall look of the building. That is in my opinion. Left to complete it my way this will be a fine building which any other owner would be pleased with and accept.

  ‘However, I have received a message from Lord Hesketh saying that he will be visiting in the next few days to see the progress and bringing with him his own plans and drawings for the decoration of the house, particularly of this Great Hall, which he expects us to execute forthwith.’ Abel paused and it was plain to see that he was not pleased with this idea at all. He glared round at the company. ‘His plans. His decorations. Once again he is going to interfere with the building of a perfectly good building with his own ideas of what is right and fitting for it. I shudder to think what those plans will be but if they are anything like that monstrosity of a fireplace then I will say so and in plain terms. I was employed to build this house, he approved the plans, but if he is not satisfied with my work I will go and leave him to it. I will, I really will. I have never been treated in this way before in all my years. He employed me because he had seen many examples of my work and liked them, so why is he changing everything and at this late stage?’

  Abel’s voice had risen as he delivered this diatribe and ended on a shout. His whole body was shaking with fury, his hands clenched, his face red as he glared round at the astonished men and there was a stunned silence.

  ‘I will not stand for this,’ continued Abel. ‘What does he know of building? He’s probably seen some fancy rubbish that would detract from the plain beauty of this Hall. It would be desecration to change what I have created, to ignore my experience on a whim.’ He turned and thumped the table with his fist. ‘This is what I designed and this is what will ….. be ….. done.’

  He glared round at the shocked faces gathered about him.

  ‘My designs, my house.’ Then to the astonishment of all, he seemed to crumple and all but fell to the ground had not those nearest caught him and sat him down on a bench. He bowed his head, covered his face with his hands and wept, his shoulders shaking with the violence of his emotion. The men looked at each other in shock, unsure what to do until Thomas hissed at those nearest,

  ‘Fetch Liliath. Quickly.’ Two of the men left at a run. Thomas knelt down beside Abel and tried to pull his hands away from his face but Abel just rocked back and forth moaning, ‘My designs, my house,’ over and over again.

  ‘What should we do?’ somebody asked. Thomas looked up.

  ‘I think it best if we all get on with what we were doing. Liliath will know what to do with him. I’ll stay until she comes. Go on, back to work.’

  Slowly the men drifted away, talking quietly to each other about this unexpected turn of events. They had never seen Abel so angry, so upset but many recalled how he had changed over the last weeks getting ever more morose and angry over little things, remembering how he had beaten Cuthbert, twice, how he had argued repeatedly with Will. Had his will broken, was he getting too old? Was it time he gave up?

  Thomas stayed with Abel until Liliath came running in with the two messengers. Abel had hardly moved and was still rocking slowly back and forth, moaning and weeping. She was shocked to see him so and knelt down beside him.

  ‘Abel?’ she said, quietly. ‘What ails thee? What has happened? Tell me. It’s me, Liliath. Tell me what has happened.’

  There seemed to be no response for a while but Abel suddenly sat up, his face tear streaked and pale and looked at her.

  ‘I can’t take it any longer, I can’t. I’ve always done my best but I can’t do it anymore.’

  Liliath tried to soothe him but he just got more agitated and fell to weeping again. She had brought a draught with her after hearing what had happened and she eventually persuaded Abel to drink it, after which he became calmer. With Thomas’s help they helped him to his cottage and to bed.

  ‘Rest is what he needs,’ she said. ‘I’ll see to him. You’d better get back.’

  Thomas was relieved to be able to leave him in her care. He had never seen Abel in such a state and he was greatly worried about what would happen now. Who was going to oversee the work with Abel unable to? As long as Will didn’t expect to. He feared what would happen if he took over so it was with a heavy heart that he returned to the building.

  The rest of the men gathered around him, eager to hear what had happened but he could tell them little other than Liliath was looking after him.

  ‘Who is going to take charge if Abel doesn’t recover?’ asked Alfric. ‘We need him to direct the work, He has the plans, after all.’

  ‘We’ll be all right for a while,’ replied Alfred. ‘We all know what work we are doing for the next couple of weeks and we could manage up to Christmas. Ezekial will help with wood as we need it and there is a long list of pieces of furniture we need to make, carving to do in the west wing, window shutters, doors, all that sort of work. Until he has had a rest we will still be able to carry on.’

  ‘But what happens if he doesn’t get better?’ persisted Alfric.

  ‘Then I will take over,’ said Will, coming into the room. He had been listening outside the door and saw that it was the time to reveal himself. ‘I am his favoured apprentice, all the work will be mine when the time comes anyway and as far as I am concerned, it has come.’ He smiled round at their shocked faces as he made his way to the centre of the room. ‘Abel is old. He’s a broken man. His day is over. It is my turn now.’

  ‘Do you honestly think that we will take your orders?’ sneered Harry. ‘You? Who can’t complete a simple task without help? Can you even read those plans of Abel’s? Can you actually read?’

  Will reddened. Reading was not easy for him, he had hated trying to learn but he could get by.

  ‘Of course I can read the plans,’ he cried. ‘Abel showed them to me many times whilst he was creating them. I know every detail as well as he does. They are no mystery to me.’

  ‘You are a mystery to us,’ said Alfred. ‘Why are you so sure that Abel will hand everything over to you?’

  ‘Because there is no one else, is there? He has no son, no heir whereas I am the heir to a great family.’

  A groan went up from the assembly.

  ‘Oh yes, so you keep saying,’ jeered Harry. ‘If that is true, why are you a humble carpenter? Why aren’t you revelling in your good fortune? Where is your great house? You must be very rich so why do you wear the simple clothes of a workman? Why are you here?’

  Will took a step back whilst he thought of an answer.

  ‘I am awaiting the call
to take up my inheritance,’ he declared loftily, and jumped as a howl of derisory laughter came from the men. ‘It is true. I am the son of a great lord.’ The laughter increased. Turning furiously about he glared at them all. ‘You will live to regret this,’ he yelled. ‘One day I will make you suffer. You will rue the day you laughed at me. Then it will be my turn to laugh in your faces as you face poverty and degradation because you won’t be able to find work when I tell people how you treated me. I will have money. I will have power and you will have nothing.’ With a lofty expression on his face he pushed through the gathered men and stalked out of the room, followed by the jeers and laughter of the men.

  ‘Well,’ cried Alfric, ‘He really has made an ass of himself this time. Great lord, my foot. He’s no more a lord than I am.’

  ‘I’d love to know the truth about his background,’ mused Alfred. ‘It’s not the first time he has made such claims but he said more this time than ever before.’

  ‘He has made it all up,’ cried Harry. ‘Why would Abel employ him if he was as rich and well-connected as he claims. He’s invented a story and now he believes it is true. There’s no truth in it, I’d wager on it.’

  ‘There must be some shred of truth there or where has he got the idea from?’ asked Cuthbert.

  ‘He has probably heard a snippet of information and built a story around it to make him feel important because he’s a nobody. The story has grown and now he believes it. I reckon the story is about somebody else and he wants to be that person so he pretends he is.’ Everybody turned to look at Japheth. A quiet man he rarely said anything or stated his opinion. Such a speech was unheard of.

  ‘Well, you’ve certainly been thinking about it!’ exclaimed Alfred, and Japheth reddened.

  ‘It’s just an idea,’ he murmured.

  ‘He could be right though,’ commented Cuthbert. ‘I don’t think Will’s clever enough to make it up but he is capable of making it fit himself. The only person who knows the truth is Abel and he’s not going to say anything.’