The Rufford Rose

by Margaret Lambert

  Thomas solemnly nodded.

  ‘Don’t go swimming in the lake in the middle of winter.’

  Thomas shook his head, then broke into broad smiles again and flung his arms round Cuthbert’s neck.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered into Cuthbert’s ear, then stood back and looked at him for a long moment before saying,

  ‘Jehan is showing me how he makes horse shoes. He says that when I have my own pony he will make shoes for it too. Can you do that?’

  ‘No,’ laughed Cuthbert. ‘I would have to make them out of wood and I don’t think they would last very long. I could make you a toy sword though, a wooden one. Would you like that?’

  Thomas’s face lit up.

  ‘Yes please.’ He turned to his father. ‘Is that all right, father? May I have a toy sword?’

  ‘If you wish but we must be going now if we are to get home before dark. Say goodbye to everyone.’

  Whilst Thomas solemnly thanked everyone there, Lord Hesketh took Cuthbert aside.

  ‘I can never thank you for what you did today. You saved my son’s life when the rest of us stood by helplessly. If there is ever anything I can do for you, you have only to ask and it is yours.’ He shook Cuthbert’s hand firmly. ‘Anything, remember that.’

  Cuthbert was overwhelmed by the gesture and hardly knew what to say. Together they all went outside and watched the party mount up and ride away, Thomas was now wrapped in someone’s cloak but this time riding in front of his father on his fine horse. He waved as they turned away and Cuthbert felt a lump in his throat at the gesture. A warm hand slipped into his and he turned to look at Jennet.

  ‘You have made a friend there,’ she said.

  ‘Lord Hesketh?’

  ‘Yes, him too, but I was thinking of the boy.’

  ‘A childhood fancy, that’s all, he’ll soon forget me.’

  ‘I don’t think so. Come, mother said I was to take you back with me. I don’t think she believes you are unharmed so we’d better go and show her, hadn’t we?’

  So, hand in hand in the gathering twilight, they walked back to the home of Ezekial.

  Cuthbert enjoyed eating at the table of the woodsman and his family and this was not the first time he had joined them after a hard day’s work. Jennet no longer sat at the far end of the table but sat next to him whilst her sisters sat opposite and treated him as they would an elder brother. The food was plain but wholesome and there was always plenty of it. Hester was a good cook and was able to make tasty meals from the simplest ingredients. They had killed a pig at the beginning of the winter and they were still enjoying flavoursome stews from it along with plenty of her crusty bread to mop up the gravy. With a wedge of cheese and some of the last of the pears from the tree in their garden, it was a satisfying meal.

  Afterwards they sat in the warmth and talked. It was lovely to be part of a family again. Cuthbert hadn’t realised how much he missed the evenings in the home of Jethro and Martha and he wondered what Martha would be doing now, and Nell, the young maid. Perhaps, one day, he would visit them back in Chester.

  Next morning Abel sought Cuthbert out but hardly mentioned the previous day other than to say it was a good thing he had been around when the accident had happened, before he brought out the drawings of the screen on which they had been working. After spending some time discussing it Abel rolled the plans up and stood back to look at Cuthbert.

  ‘There are times,’ he said, ‘when I wish I had had a son, but it never happened. It is not good to look at old age and realise you will be alone.’

  Cuthbert was surprised at the remark. Abel was not one to discuss personal things and he hoped he wasn’t going to become morose and angry again.

  ‘You have Will,’ he said. ‘He must be like a son to you. You have taught him all you would have taught a son.’

  ‘He’s no son!’ sneered Abel. ‘I wouldn’t have him as close kin if he was the last man on this earth. There’s many a time I wish we had never taken him in. He thinks only of himself and who he thinks he is. He hasn’t got a shred of gratitude in his body.’

  ‘Why did you take him in, then?’

  There was a very long pause before Abel said.

  ‘One day I might tell you but not yet, not until I’ve told him the truth about where he comes from. He won’t like it and I can’t find the courage to tell him, yet. Ezekial counsels me to do it but I’m afraid of what he’ll do or say.’ He shook his head miserably. ‘The longer I leave it the worse it gets. I know, it’s me own stupid fault. If only ….’

  ‘If only?’

  ‘Never you mind. Suffice it to say that I’d give anything to have me time over again and do things differently. You don’t know what a difference you have made. Now let’s get some work done.’

  With that he walked off leaving Cuthbert staring after him and wondering what he had meant. What difference had he made other than to annoy him by his very presence ever since the day he had arrived? Was that remark meant as some sort of apology?

  He went outside to cross to the woodshed where he had a job to complete on a small table for the solar and almost ran into Will who was carrying a short ladder towards the east wing. At first he thought Will was going to ignore him but then Will turned, hawked in his throat and spat at him, leaving a gobbet of phlegm on his sleeve.

  ‘What was that for?’ cried Cuthbert, looking with disgust at the mess.

  ‘As if you didn’t know?’ sneered Will. ‘Who’s the favourite around here?

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Playing the saviour of the heir, risking his life to save a little brat from certain death. You make me sick. Turning up here with a cock-and-bull story about being sent by a lord to do special work and before we know it you are bowing and scraping to your betters, showing yourself in a good light for doing what? Let me tell you, when I come into my rightful place I will have you hanged for telling such scandalous lies.’

  ‘None of it is lies, as you well know, Will. You are eaten up with jealousy because someone can do better than you. You are the one who is lying, trying to make us all believe you are from a rich family and will have land and property one day. It is you who is a nobody, Will. At least I can hold my head up for doing the best I can in whatever I do. Can you?’

  Cuthbert turned on his heel and began to walk away but Will spun round and the end of the ladder caught Cuthbert on his shoulder, knocking him sideways. He slipped on some ice and went down heavily. Will dropped the ladder and would have jumped on him if several of the men hadn’t come running out of the woodshed to see what all the fuss was about. Alfric and Ben grabbed hold of Will while Thomas helped Cuthbert to his feet.

  ‘Are you all right, lad?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m fine,’ snapped Cuthbert and immediately looked contrite. ‘It’s Will who needs looking after. He should be locked up. He’s a danger to any right-minded man.’ He rubbed his shoulder where the ladder had hit him. Just another bruise to add the collection.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ demanded Abel, striding into view.

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Will, struggling against his captors. ‘Cuthbert and I were just talking, weren’t we?’

  ‘Talking with his fists and feet, more like,’ growled Thomas. ‘Knocked him flying with the ladder and was about to set on him in earnest when we appeared.’

  ‘Did anyone see this?’ asked Abel.

  ‘I did,’ replied Ben, ‘through the open door. That’s why we came out.’

  ‘Right,’ declared Abel, grabbing hold of Will by his arm, ‘You and me are going to have a talk.’

  Will tried to pull away but Abel was stronger despite the difference in their age and found himself being dragged forcefully towards the lodging where Abel lived.

  Thomas looked at Cuthbert.

  ‘Are you sure you are all right?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m fine, really. He caught me unawares,’ and he told them what had happened.

  ‘You’re right, he needs locking up,
’ said Alfric, ‘and the key throwing away.’

  ‘Let’s all calm down and get back to work. Abel will deal with him.’

  Slowly, the men drifted back to their places, wondering what would happen next.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Abel dragged a protesting Will all the way to the small cottage where he was lodging, flung the door open and threw the boy onto the floor before slamming the door closed behind him. Will scrambled to his feet and made an attempt to brush himself down.

  ‘What was that for?’ he whined. ‘He’s the one who should be …’

  He got no further as Abel grabbed him round the throat and pushed him backwards until he fell onto the bed set against the far wall, banging his head hard and momentarily stunning him. Abel pulled up a stool and sat down facing him. He took a deep breath to calm the rage that was boiling inside him. Losing his temper was no way to divulge the information he must give to Will, information he should have told him years ago but had always shied away from. It was not going to be easy.

  ‘That hurt,’ protested Will, rubbing the back of his head.

  ‘Good,’ said Abel, menacingly. ‘It seems to be the only way to knock some sense into you.’

  ‘What do you mean? What have I done?’

  ‘Where shall I start? It is time I told you a few facts that I should have told you years ago. You, Will, are a nobody. Do you hear me? A nobody.’

  ‘What do you mean? I am the son …’

  ‘You are someone’s son, but not of the man you think you are. You have picked up a few bits of a story and woven your own fantasy around it and you’ve come to believe it is true, but believe me it is not.’

  Will stared at him.

  ‘Don’t tell me you are my real father?’ he cried, horrified at the thought.

  ‘Thank the Lord, no! If you were born of my union with my dear Dora I would be ashamed of you. You are a lazy, good-for-nothing, selfish, mean, cruel child. We took you in out of the kindness of our hearts, thinking we could change you through our love for you, but the seed of hate was already sown within you. You were a hard baby to rear, always having temper tantrums, breaking things as you got older out of sheer spite. You enjoyed hurting us. Oh yes, we fed you and clothed you, even taught you the rudiments of arithmetic and reading, but what good has it done you? I offered to train you as a joiner, at least give you a trade to live by, but you were too lazy to work at it. Never once have you shown any gratitude for what we did for you. My Dora was worn out because of your cruel and lazy ways and that’s why she died, tired of trying to do right by you, tired of constantly being taunted and sneered at, there was never a kind word or gesture from you. She tried so hard to love you but in the end she didn’t even like you or have the strength to take any more. My Dora died because of you.’

  Abel spat the words at Will, leaning closer until he was only inches away from him. For several seconds Will stared back at him but couldn’t break that look on Abel’s face. Eventually he said, ‘If I was so bad why didn’t you throw me out, or better still, send me back to where I came from. Surely my real parents would have taken me back.’

  Abel let out a huge guffaw at the very idea, rocking back on the stool.

  ‘You have no idea, boy, no idea at all. Your real parents? Your mother died giving birth to you. Your supposed father disowned you, as did your grandparents. You had no one but us.’

  ‘Disowned me? Why? Tell me.’

  He pushed himself away from the wall and faced Abel.

  ‘Tell me,’ he shouted.

  ‘You will listen to me, Will, and what I tell you is the truth, not some made-up fantasy to appease you.’ He took another deep breath and began. ‘Your mother was a loving, decent young girl who worked as a serving maid in a large household. She was betrothed to one of the grooms and when they were a little older they were going to marry, perhaps when she was eighteen and he was twenty. However, there was someone else in that household who saw her and wanted to have his way with her. This was the youngest of the seven sons of the family, a spoilt, lazy boy of eighteen. He knew he had nothing to inherit. With six older brothers he would be expected to enter the church or join the army which he didn’t want to do. He would need to make a good marriage if he was going to continue to live in the manner in which he had grown up, but he had other ideas. He had always got what he wanted but nobody seemed to have noticed how unpleasant he was becoming. He starting mixing with the village youths and joining them on poaching trips, stealing fish and game from his own father. He loved the adventure, the risk, the thrill of it. He began to drink far too much and to meet the village girls. The others goaded him on to molest them and many a village father would complain to his father when their daughters became with child. His father refused to believe it was his fault and blamed the company he was keeping. If the fathers continued to object they would find themselves faced with eviction from their farms. The boy thought it was all highly amusing and continued to sow his wild oats further and further afield.

  ‘Then he noticed the little serving maid in his own family’s kitchens. She was undoubtedly very pretty and he decided she would be his next conquest. He knew she was betrothed to the groom but that did not deter him. One day he sent the groom to another village to collect a horse he had just purchased. Knowing that he would be away for most of the day he waited for her to go to the kitchen garden to fetch fresh vegetables for the household, as she usually did. He waylaid her on her way back and dragged her into a farm building nearby where he had his way with her. He kept her there until his appetites were satisfied, then threatened to have her and her groom dismissed if she said anything. He left her sobbing on the floor.

  ‘When the poor girl returned to the house in such a desperate state it was clear what had happened to her. She refused to say who was to blame for fear of losing their jobs but she told her young groom. He wanted to confront the young man but she begged him not to. Where could they go, who would employ a girl who was carrying a child?

  ‘The months passed and her time came. The birth was long and difficult, she was so young and slender, and when the boy was born she bled too much and the day after, she died. The young groom was distraught and confronted his master with the truth. At first his claims were dismissed but when the young man as good as admitted it with a shrug and said, ‘so what, she’s only a slut from the kitchens,’ his father remembered all those other claims from fathers in the village. Confronted with this the lad was very flippant,

  ‘They were asking for it,’ he laughed. ‘Who could resist such tempting fruit? I say they enjoyed it, why wouldn’t they, I certainly did.’ His enraged father immediately disinherited him for bringing such shame on the family but also refused to have anything to do with the child. His son went out and got drunk then sought out the groom to punish him for exposing him to his father. The two young men fought in the stables, a bitter fight with damage on both sides but a slip on the wet straw of a stall led to the young man falling heavily onto the tines of a pitchfork left there by someone after mucking out the horses. It pierced him through the body and because of the dirt on the fork his wound became bad and within a week he died a painful lingering death. Despite it being an accident the groom was blamed and he was hanged for murder.

  ‘So, you see lad, your mother was a humble serving girl, and although your father may have been born into a rich family he was disowned by them, not that he would have inherited anything anyway. All these years your dream of being a rich heir has been just that, a dream and you are nobody important.’

  Will stared at Abel with hate on his face. His dream was shattered. He couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. He sneered at Abel. ‘I don’t believe you,’ he spat. ‘You’re only saying this to shut me up. You don’t want me to be better than you. All the time I was growing up I knew I was destined for something better. Anyway, how come you know so much about it? Why should your story be true and mine a lie?’

  Abel got to his feet and walked
away from Will. When he reached the door he turned, and said, ‘Because your mother was my niece. A dearer, sweeter girl you could not have known. The eldest of the four daughters of my brother, she was a beautiful child who became a beautiful young woman, yet she never expected more of life than to hold a good job in a big household. She worked hard and loved her work, her mistress thought highly of her and would give her little tasks to do, mending some of the finer linen of the house because she was a fine needlewoman, but she never shied from hard work in the kitchen or the Great Hall. When she was betrothed to the groom everyone was so happy for her and so valued was she that she would not lose her job in the house because she was married, as happened in many households. She had her whole life before her and they had such plans together. But then the young lad found her and, well, I’ve told you what he did. He enjoyed it even more because she was promised to someone else, that was his idea of fun, spoiling things for others. He boasted about what he’d done, was proud of himself. It is a testament to her betrothed that he did not immediately reject her though what would have happened after the child was born is anybody’s guess.’

  He moved back towards Will and leaned down towards him.

  ‘Because of the selfish actions of one man, a decent young girl died, and a decent, innocent young man was hanged. If the perpetrator had not died he too would have been punished for what he did to her. My brother could not bear to have the child in his house, despite being his grandchild, so Dora and I took you in. It was not easy but your birth was not your fault. There were conditions put upon us, however. You were never to be told the truth and once you reached manhood you were to be tied to me as apprentice and joiner. There was too great a risk that you would do exactly what you have done, try to find out your beginnings and nobody wanted that. If you were under my roof there was less chance of you returning to where you were born and raking up all the trouble.’

  ‘What’s to stop me now?’ cried Will, peevishly.

  ‘If you try you will get no help from anyone. As far as your other grandparents are concerned you do not exist, their son was disinherited before your birth, you have no claim on anything he may have had. You are stuck with me for life.’