The Rufford Rose

by Margaret Lambert

  ‘That’s what we think,’ agreed Ezekial. ‘and she is walking on air she is so happy. We welcome him to our family wholeheartedly.’

  The couple under discussion were outside, leaning on the wall of the small garden where Hester tended the vegetables and herbs for the family.

  ‘Only three days to go and we will be married,’ smiled an excited Jennet, squeezing his arm. He pulled her to him, putting his arm around her slender waist and burying his nose in her abundant hair, breathing in the clean scent of it. He ached with his love for her so intense was it. He wanted to hold and touch every part of her, caress her, kiss her, love her forever. She pulled back from him and looked up into his face.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked.

  ‘My love for you, my longing for those three days to pass so that we can be together. I don’t think I have ever been so happy. Thank you for agreeing to marry me.’ He bent to kiss her on the lips, a gentle peck at first then, as she responded, he held her tighter and pressed his lips more firmly until, breathless they pulled apart and gazed into each other’s eyes.

  ‘I love you, Jennet Henthorne.’

  ‘And I love you too, Cuthbert Watts.’

  Not many yards away someone was watching them from the shelter of a bush, loathing the very sight of the young lovers in each other’s arms and vowing to end their dreams, but it would have to be soon if their wedding day was to be stopped.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Thursday morning dawned bright and clear and unusually warm for early May. As Cuthbert and the other men gathered for their day’s work there was a lot of laughter and jollity, mostly at Cuthbert’s expense, but he took the ribbing with a glad heart and went into the Great Hall to start building a scaffolding tower to install the last two of the roof bosses in the high arch of the roof. Working so high was difficult and great care was taken to provide a firm base for the temporary structure. Cuthbert was particularly careful as the fatal fall of Jethro a few years previously was always on his mind. One slip was all it took and with the end of building so near they did not want any accidents to happen.

  The women of the village were busy cooking and baking, creating a feast for the wedding breakfast for the happy couple. Pies and pastries, sweetmeats and jellies, meats and fish all had to be prepared. Everybody contributed, even the innkeeper had brewed extra casks of ale and mead for the festivities. The big barn behind Ezekial’s woodshed was cleaned and swept and trestle tables set out with benches and stools around them. The children gathered wildflowers to decorate it and scattered fresh rushes and fragrant herbs on the floor so that, as they danced, the air would be filled with the scent of lavender and camomile, rosemary and sweet marjoram. They made a note of where there were wild roses growing so that, on the morning of the wedding they could pick them early and weave them into garlands for their hair and for Jennet to carry. She and her mother had spent many hours sewing a new dress for her, palest green with a narrow belt of finest leather, a present from her grandmother who had worn it at her wedding many years ago. The excitement throughout the village was tangible with smiles from everyone. This wedding would mark not only a new beginning for Cuthbert and Jennet but the end of a marvellous building’s construction and a worthy celebration.

  By the end of the day the penultimate boss had been installed and admired. It was the eagle and child emblem, the symbol of the earls of Derby and a fitting tribute by Lord Hesketh to the family who had supported his ancestors for so long and who had been instrumental in the construction of this Hall. Alfric had carved it using a drawing done by Cuthbert and it recalled the legend from the Derby history when an early Lady Derby had been unable to produce an heir but Lord Derby had a son by a maid in the village. He arranged for the babe to be left in the forest and when he walked by with his Lady they happened to find the child which they took into their care and adopted as their own. In the meantime the child was protected from harm by an eagle. A romantic story but retold by the family until it passed into history.

  That evening Cuthbert and Jennet walked together by the Mere, watching the sun set over the water, hand in hand.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ whispered Jennet. ‘Our last day apart for the rest of our lives.’ She smiled up at him and he took her in his arms and kissed her, holding her to him, feeling her slender figure mould so perfectly with his tall, strong body.

  ‘You … are … so … beautiful,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘I promise that I will never let any harm come to you. I will never leave you, never hurt you, I will protect you always.’ He hugged her closer and felt he would burst with his love for her.

  They sat on a fallen tree by the water and watched the sun sink lower, his arm around her shoulder, hers about his waist, close, safe, together. Only when the sun kissed the water did they rise and return to the village to their separate beds. Just two more nights apart and they would be married.

  The following morning everyone was up early as the finishing touches were to be put to the building with the installation of the final roof boss, Cuthbert’s Tudor Rose. First the scaffolding had to be partly dismantled, moved along the Hall and rebuilt below the final arch. It was afternoon before it was ready and the boss was carried into the Hall. It was a hefty lump of wood to be lifted aloft and would take three of them to hold it in position whilst Cuthbert fixed it in place with wooden pegs, not an easy job at ground level but even harder at the top of a scaffold. A net had been fashioned from one of the fishermen’s nets and the boss was laid in it on the floor. Ropes were attached to the sides of the net and their ends carried aloft by the four who would place it in position, Cuthbert, Alfric, Harry and Thomas. Guided by those on the floor they then hauled it slowly upwards, avoiding catching the net on the structure itself until they lifted it over the top bar and laid it on the platform between their feet. There was little room to manoeuvre but they grasped it between them and lifted it above their heads, kicking the net out of their way, and slotted it into the space Cuthbert had fashioned for it at the junction of the two arching timbers. He had cut holes to receive the pegs which would secure it to the roof and, struggling to get round the three straining men, he hammered home pegs in various positions around it until he felt it was secure and they could relax. As they stood back and lowered their arms a cheer went up from below.

  ‘Not quite in the middle,’ shouted Ben, and was quickly silenced by his colleagues, with slaps around his ears.

  ‘Ignore him,’ called Abel. ‘It looks fine. Absolutely dead centre.’ He turned to Ben. ‘No ale for you tomorrow, my lad,’ and he added a thump on his shoulder for good measure. ‘Come on down. We have a wedding to prepare for tomorrow.’

  Although it was early to finish Abel let everyone go and stayed to secure the building. He walked round every room in the west wing, admiring the workmanship of every part from the main structure to the doors and windows, the furniture and decoration. It was a job well done and he was proud of what they had achieved. Closing doors behind him as he went and securing all external ones, he passed into the Great Hall and sat for a moment on the bench behind the long table, looking all about him, at the mighty windows, the towering walls, the tables and benches they had made, even the great fireplace which had been such a bone of contention when it had been suggested. Soon this room would be alive with people, eating, sleeping, dancing, laughing at the actors and entertainers who would come, listening to musicians in the great compass window at his side, the walls covered by colourful tapestries, great iron candelabras filled with candles lighting it on dark winter evenings. His eye was drawn upwards to the carvings and decorations all around him. After the weekend they would remove the scaffolding, the discarded net and a few tools left nearby and the Hall would be ready for Lord Hesketh and his family to move in.

  Finally he looked at the great screen he had designed and helped to make. What a masterpiece, a statement, a legacy. To see his ideas on paper translated to such a piece gave him a huge amount of pride. There were times
when he had thought he had been too ambitious but it had worked and even now he was imagining a third central spire, matching the other two but broader, and set in the middle to tower above the rest. He would make drawings and show them to Lord Hesketh for his approval but he felt it would be the crowning glory of his creation.

  He walked out of the Great Hall with a smile on his face. It had had its difficulties but it was a job well done, a job to be proud of.

  Cuthbert paused at the trough by the forge and swilled his head and face with cold water to sluice away the dirt of the day. Jehan looked out of the doorway where he was making links for a chain to guide a plough.

  ‘Finished for the day, have you?’ he called. ‘Well, I suppose the bridegroom has to prepare for the big day. Jennet said she’d meet you by the church when you’re ready.’

  ‘What for?’ asked Cuthbert. ‘We’ve made all the arrangements with the priest. What else is there to do?’

  ‘I don’t know, she didn’t say. She passed by here, oh a good half hour since, and looking very excited about something. Perhaps you’d better go and see.’

  ‘Aye, I will.’ Cuthbert rubbed his face dry on a cloth and turned towards the church at the end of the village. Whatever could there be to do tonight? All was in place, they’d arranged everything earlier in the week. Perhaps she wanted him to see the flowers she and her sisters had decorated the church with during the day. Yes, that would be it, and he hurried on.

  There was no sign of her outside so he pushed the heavy door open and went inside. The scent of flowers immediately assailed his nostrils and he paused to look in wonder at the array of flowers on every window ledge and surface available. They were beautiful, but there was no sign of Jennet. He saw a movement at the far end and the priest came out of his little vestry carrying new candles for the altar. Cuthbert went down the central aisle towards him. The priest turned when he heard him approach and smiled.

  ‘They have made this simple little church beautiful, haven’t they?’ He breathed in the scent. ‘This is so much nicer than the smell of wax candles, don’t you agree?’

  ‘I do,’ agreed Cuthbert, and the priest burst out laughing.

  ‘Are you practising your responses already?’

  Cuthbert frowned in puzzlement then grinned when he realised what he’d said.

  ‘I don’t need to practise, I’ve been saying it for days in my head.’ He looked about. ‘Have you seen Jennet?’

  ‘Not since they finished the flowers earlier on. Why?’

  ‘I got a message she wanted to meet me here.’

  ‘Is she outside? She hasn’t been in here.’

  ‘I’ll go and look.’

  He walked right round the building but there was no sign of Jennet. Strange. Jehan wouldn’t have got the message wrong. He decided to return the way he’d come, see if she had stopped somewhere on the way.

  As he passed one of the cottages he saw Old Bartholomew, the gravedigger, enjoying a mug of ale on the bench outside his front door. Nobody knew how old he was, some said near a hundred, which was probably wrong but he was a little, wrinkled old man who still insisted he could dig a grave better than anyone else and would probably dig his own if he could get his way. Cuthbert stopped and asked,

  ‘Did you see Jennet pass this way?’

  Bartholomew took a long drink before answering.

  ‘Aye, lad, I did. ‘Bout an ’alf ’our sin’. All smiles she were, as though she were goin’ to meet ’er young man.’ He grinned toothlessly. ‘That’d be you, wouldn’ it? Reet ’appy she looked too.’

  ‘Did you see where she went?’

  ‘Down towards the church.’

  ‘That’s where she told me to meet her.’

  ‘Aye, mebbe she did, but she didna get that far.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘T’other fella came out from them trees and took her off that-a-way.’ He pointed towards the Mere.

  ‘What other fellow?’

  ‘That lazy so-and-so from the ‘all. ’Im as never does no work if ‘e can ‘elp it.’

  Cuthbert went cold.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I told you so didna I?’

  ‘How long ago?

  ‘Jus’ arter she passed t’other way.’

  Cuthbert turned and ran back towards the village. He passed the forge first and shouted to Jehan, who was standing outside,

  ‘Will’s got Jennet.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Will’s got Jennet. He’s taken her down to the Mere.’

  ‘Oh my God! I’ll get the others.’ He turned into the forge and called for Jacob. The two men ran after Cuthbert.

  A group of men were playing a game of skittles on a patch of ground by the track and Cuthbert yelled at them as he passed.

  ‘Will’s taken Jennet to the Mere. Help me find her.’

  The game was immediately abandoned as every one of them ran after the others, calling to anyone they saw to come and help the search.

  They reached the shore but there was no sign of either Will or Jennet.

  ‘Spread out. You go that way, we’ll go this,’ shouted Cuthbert, splitting the group into two and running in opposite directions along the shore. They searched every bush and thicket they passed but there was no sign of them. When Cuthbert and his group stopped well north of the village they had seen no one.

  ‘Where can they be?’ he cried, running his hands through his hair in despair. ‘If he harms her, I’ll …’

  ‘They can’t have gone far,’ panted Ben. ‘We’ll find her.’

  ‘Let’s go back, more slowly and spread out a bit more,’ suggested Alfric. ‘Shout her name. She may be able to answer.’

  They spread out through the trees, calling Jennet’s name, but all they disturbed was birds in the trees. When they met up with the other group they were puzzled that nobody had found them.

  ‘Could they have slipped back into the village?’ suggested Cuthbert, white with fear.

  ‘Somebody would have seen them and raised the alarm,’ said Ben. ‘Listen.’

  They turned as someone came running through the trees towards them. It was Ezekial and Abel with several more men from the village.

  ‘Have you found her? Have you found my daughter?’ cried Ezekial.

  ‘Not a sign of them. They’ve just disappeared.’

  ‘They can’t have. They must be hiding somewhere.’

  ‘Where, though? We’ve been right up to the north end and they’ve been beyond the village the other way. We’ve got to find her. Will can only mean harm. He’s been waiting for this, ever since he left. Oh, Jennet, my love, where are you?’ Cuthbert was almost in tears and it was Abel who said,

  ‘Now lad, we’ve got to think. They’ve got to be about here somewhere, we’ll find them, though nobody knows these woods better than Will. I believe he has a den somewhere nearby where he used to go when he wanted to be alone. I wish I’d followed him one day and found it. Let’s think. It can’t be far because sometimes he wasn’t gone all that long. So let’s comb these woods thoroughly, look behind every bush and up every tree that’s big enough to climb. He may be up above us where we haven’t looked yet. Look inside every dense bush or clump of reeds. Leave nothing to chance. And listen. He may have gagged her to stop her crying out but she could still make a noise.’ He saw the terror in Cuthbert’s face. ‘Don’t imagine the worst, lad. We’ll find her if we have to tear down every tree.’ The others nodded in agreement and split into pairs, agreeing on which areas to search and to meet back at the village when they’d combed their patch.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The woods had never been searched as thoroughly before. Looking up and behind and under everything took time but it was the only way they were going to find the two of them. Cuthbert was desperate, imagining all sorts of things. Will was capable of real cruelty and the thought of Jennet in his clutches was beyond bearing. He must find her, he must, before Will did anything to her.


  They were down near the shore and standing close to a thick clump of reeds and undergrowth with young willow growing through it. Cuthbert groaned as he recognised that it was the spot where he and Jennet had sat to watch the sunset the evening before. Alfric looked at him and Cuthbert explained what had happened here. He was close to tears at the thought he might lose her and Alfric gripped his arm.

  ‘We’ll find her. We will, I promise. That rat of a human is not going to win this time.’ He looked round. ‘Let’s see what’s on the other side of this clump,’ and he turned to the right. Cuthbert went round the other way but in a few seconds there was a cry from Alfric and he turned back. Alfric was holding something in his hands. ‘I trod on it, in the mud just there.’

  Cuthbert took the muddy piece of wood from him. It was the little Tudor rose he had carved for Jennet and his heart gave a lurch.

  ‘She always carried it in her pocket,’ he whispered.

  ‘Perhaps she dropped it last night,’ suggested Alfric.

  ‘No, we didn’t come to this side. We came from over there and went back the same way. She must be somewhere nearby.’ He looked round desperately then yelled at the top of his voice,

  ‘Jennet. Jennet. Where are you? I’m here. I’m coming for you.’

  Startled birds flew up from the reed bed, and he called again.

  ‘Jennet. Make a noise if you can’t speak. We’ll find you. Jennet. Jennet.’

  For perhaps half a minute there was nothing and he was about to call again when something burst from the centre of the thicket they were standing by and Will appeared, dirty and dishevelled with his arm round a terrified Jennet.

  ‘Here she is, master carver, Here’s your precious Jennet. She’s mine now. I’ve got her. No, don’t come any nearer or this’ll put an end to her.’ He was holding a blade to Jennet’s neck, a long thin chisel with a wooden handle. ‘I can carve too, you know, though I never got the credit you did, master carver. Perhaps if I carve in flesh instead of wood you’ll take notice of me,’ and he nicked Jennet’s neck just below her ear. She squealed and he tightened his grip on her. ‘I can do better than that and I will if you come any nearer.’ Cuthbert daren’t move.