The Rufford Rose

by Margaret Lambert

  ‘We knew Will had a hideout somewhere and we were looking for it when Alfric stepped on the little rose carving I gave you and we knew you must be somewhere nearby. Oh,’ he groaned, ‘if he hadn’t he wouldn’t have been … killed.’ Cuthbert put his head in his hands in despair.

  ‘Hush, my love,’ soothed Jennet. ‘If he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have found us at all. Perhaps it is a lucky charm, look at it that way. When Will heard you so close he wanted to show you what he’d done, he craved attention and bursting through the bushes that way certainly got it. If he hadn’t stabbed Alfric he would have stabbed you. Alfric was unlucky to get in the way. Please don’t blame yourself.’

  Hester, on hearing voices, tapped gently on the door and came in.

  ‘Ah, you are awake.’ She looked fondly at her daughter. ‘I have prepared some food for you both when you are ready.’

  Nobody particularly felt like eating but they made the effort as Hester had prepared something. When they were almost finished the village priest knocked gently on the door and entered. Expecting to enter a joyous house of forthcoming nuptials he had had to prepare himself for the exact opposite. He found a much subdued gathering and prepared to give whatever help he could.

  He prayed with them in their time of trouble and offered comfort to the grieving but more practical matters needed to be discussed. The marriage would be postponed for a week, Alfric’s funeral would take place on the morrow and he would be buried in the churchyard. Hester suggested that all the food prepared for the wedding breakfast had better be eaten after that as it would not keep for a week. This seemed a good solution as there would be many at the funeral. Abel said that he and his men would make a coffin today and they would carry him to his last resting place. The flowers could remain in the church as Alfric had only recently, since Cuthbert arrived, begun to notice the wild flowers around them and had started to learn from Cuthbert how to use them in his carving.

  Cuthbert laughed quietly.

  ‘I remember when he first saw the Tudor rose I made for Jennet, he thought it was a dandelion, but after that he began to notice the differences in flowers and was beginning to experiment with carving them. I showed him how to do simple ones and he was progressing well. Who knows what delights he may have created in the future.’

  ‘He was a fine craftsman for all his lively humour and wry comments,’ said Abel. ‘I will miss his ready smile as he worked.’

  They talked of the work he had done in the Great Hall and the Derby coat of arms roof boss which had only been installed two days before.

  ‘A fitting memorial for him, I think,’ commented Abel. There was silence for a while as they each recalled their own memories but eventually there was one subject which had to be discussed but which all were unwilling to broach. It was the priest who spoke first.

  ‘What are we going to do about the other young man?’ he asked.

  ‘Let him rot where he lies,’ spat Ezekial, an unusually bitter remark from a gentle man. ‘I could never forgive him for what he did to my daughter and if he had lived I would have killed him with my own hands.’

  ‘Ezekial!’ gasped Hester who had never expected to hear such a thing from her husband.

  ‘He’s a murderer,’ pointed out Cuthbert, bitterly, ‘not to mention a liar, a thief, a vagabond, and a would-be rapist. Yes, I know the word hasn’t been said but that is what he intended, isn’t it, when he had Jennet at his mercy at the top of that tower with a ready audience below? That’s what he would have done. It would have satisfied his vanity that he could do something as awful as that and we couldn’t do anything to stop him.’

  He felt a gentle hand on his arm and turned to see Jennet looking at him from tear-filled eyes.

  ‘Yes, maybe, but he didn’t because you and Alfred rescued me so he did me no physical harm.’

  ‘I can never forgive him for what he did to you and to Alfric,’ said Cuthbert, bitterly. ‘I will have nothing to do with his burial and please don’t ask me to.’ He got to his feet and stumbled out of the cottage, blinded by tears and made his way to the woodshed where he could be alone, for the time being at least,

  ‘I agree’ said Ezekial, ‘but we can’t just leave him. What do we do, father?’

  ‘I understand that nobody will mourn his passing but he can be buried in a quiet corner of the churchyard in an unmarked grave and we can do it at night with no more than a few prayers, no celebration of his life, no sermon over him.’

  ‘How will we get his body there for I can’t imagine anyone wanting to help you?’ asked Alfred.

  ‘I will,’ said Abel quietly. ‘I am the nearest thing he’s got to family. I will wrap him in his shroud and take him to the churchyard in a wheeled cart. Don’t think that I do it out of charity, I don’t. He tormented us beyond endurance and I firmly belief that Dora died as a result of his behaviour. For that alone I have as great a grievance against him as any here. I will do it because I want to be sure that he’s buried deep for he will burn in Hell for eternity for his wickedness.’ He looked around the group. ‘I will do it.’

  The matter was settled then and the priest departed to make the preparations for Alfric’s funeral. Ezekial went with Alfred to select the wood they would use to fashion a coffin for Alfric, collecting any who wanted to help on their way.

  ‘What should I do?’ asked Jennet. Her mother embraced her closely.

  ‘My darling daughter, you have been so brave through all of this dreadful ordeal but there is someone who needs you now, just as you needed him yesterday. Go and find him, comfort him, love him as only you can do.’ She kissed her on her forehead and gave her a motherly embrace. ‘Go, go and find him.’

  Cuthbert was in the woodshed when she found him, angrily chopping at a log of wood with an axe, venting his feelings in the only way he knew. Jennet watched him from the doorway as he hacked at the wood, putting all his strength into reducing the log to splinters, hitting it again and again. She knew why he was doing it. He could not punish the man responsible for all the hurt, grief and damage done to them all. Cuthbert had lost a good friend who had probably saved his own life by his actions and that was something unforgiveable. The wood would have to take the punishment instead.

  When his strength was exhausted, he threw the axe onto the floor and stood panting from the effort, unaware of her presence. She watched his broad shoulders slump, his head droop and he slowly dropped to his knees among the chopped wood and put his head in his hands. Quietly she moved to his side, knelt beside him and put her arms around him. He turned to her and buried his face in her hair.

  ‘Why?’ he moaned. ‘Why did he do it? Why did he have to kill?’

  ‘He was sick in his mind,’ soothed Jennet. ‘He wanted revenge, he wanted his dream to become reality. Right to the end he believed he would marry me, carry me off to his manor and we would live happily ever after. Anything that was in the way of that dream had to be removed, destroyed.’

  ‘Do you forgive him?’

  ‘No, not forgive. I could never forgive him for killing Alfric, but I am not sorry that he is dead, either. He would have killed somebody eventually, he was so angry with the world, really, obsessed with a dream that would never come true and he would never accept that. He would have come to a bad end eventually.’

  Cuthbert took her face in both his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. His insides did a somersault and he bent to kiss her.

  ‘I don’t deserve you,’ he murmured. ‘When I discovered he had taken you I thought my world had come to an end. I can’t imagine life without you. If he had touched a hair …’

  ‘Shhh. He didn’t and we are still here and we can still get married. We will forget all of this in time. Let’s get these few days over and then start our life together.’ They embraced, their love a physical being within them both, shared in a way only true love can reveal itself.

  Abel and his men spent the day making a coffin for Alfric from elm wood. They worked silently, missing his banter a
nd humour with every passing minute. Only a perfect creation would satisfy the longing they all had to send him to his early grave in the best way they could. It was planed and sanded to a smooth finish, the lid fitting perfectly, the handles, made by Jehan, strong and simple. Cuthbert joined them to rub beeswax into the wood until it shone. It was a coffin fit for a lord, never mind a simple craftsman but he was special to them all and nothing but the best would do for him. Alfric’s body had been washed and wrapped in a linen shroud and as they all gathered in the church, it was lifted into the coffin as the priest prayed for his soul. They would take it in turns through the night to stand vigil and there was no lack of volunteers to be with him.

  Long after the sun had set a silent duo moved into the churchyard, pushing a low wooden cart with a shrouded body lying on it. By the light of a lantern carried by the priest they made their way to the furthest corner of the churchyard where a pile of earth showed them a newly dug grave. Between them they lifted the body and lowered it into the pit, then the cart was wheeled away whilst the priest murmured brief prayers before shovelling the earth back over the body until it was smooth again with only a slight hump to show where it was. An unpleasant task had been fulfilled. There would be no marker and in time the spot would grow over and be forgotten. No one would lay flowers or visit that corner. It would be as though the man below had never been.

  It was a sombre congregation who gathered in the village church next morning, and many tears were shed for their friend and fellow worker. It was only when a person like Alfric was gone that it was realised how special he had been and as the funeral sentences were pronounced, the prayers offered and the sermon delivered each and every one of them had their own special memories of him. Six of the men shouldered his coffin, Abel, Cuthbert, Alfred, Ben, Japheth and Harry, to carry him to his last resting place, close by the church wall and as far away from that other grave as possible. His body was lowered into the ground and the priest said the final prayers before all gathered threw flowers or a handful of soil before leaving the old gravedigger to complete the burial. A simple wooden marker with his name on would be made and put in place in due course.

  The village inn welcomed the mourners. All the food prepared for the wedding had been taken to a larger back room, an unexpected addition to the funeral ceremony but greatly enjoyed by all as they gathered to reminisce.

  Gradually they dispersed, some to their homes but others who felt the need to keep busy and occupied, went to the Great Hall to dismantle the scaffolding which had been the centre of the drama. Abel could barely bring himself to touch it and ordered that it be chopped up and used for firewood. Jehan was among those who carried a cartful away, never refusing a gift of wood for his forge. When all had been cleared they found the spread of the bloodstain where Will had bled to death on his own weapon, seeped into the hardened earth of the floor. Abel had already left so Alfred suggested that they dig it out until there was no trace of blood in the ground, replace it with new earth, and spread rushes over the spot. At last everything was in order and they left, making sure this time that the door was secured.

  What was to happen next? Everyone felt as though they had paused for a brief time and now didn’t know how to carry on. The building, apart from minor details was complete, so what to do now? Some wanted to leave as soon as possible, some felt as though they should stay with Abel as he was waiting to hear from Lord Hesketh to make sure there was nothing else to do, no sudden alterations or additions. Meanwhile they started to sort out the woodshed, put aside any wood that could be used in the future, pack away their tools and sweep away all the sawdust which had accumulated. It would probably be used as a storage building, part of the estate yard once the household was working and busy.

  In the afternoon a rider appeared on the road from the south seeking Will Topping, a young man who had suddenly disappeared from the house where he had been lodging and who they thought had, at one time, worked at Rufford. Abel asked who sought him and was told he was wanted by the law for assault and theft. Abel took the man aside and told him what had happened, that he would not be able to answer for his crimes as he was already dead and buried. The messenger was surprised and said he would have to report to his master, and rode back the way he had come.

  ‘Will there be trouble?’ asked Jehan, who had overheard the conversation from his forge.

  ‘I can’t see how there can be,’ replied Abel. ‘We didn’t kill him, he managed that himself. He can’t be tried and punished so there’s no point pursuing the matter. I doubt we’ll hear any more.’

  But there he was wrong for next day Lord Hesketh, Lord Derby and certain men of their households arrived and asked to see Abel and anyone else involved in the death of Will Topping. Abel, Cuthbert, Ezekial, Alfred and Ben went into the Great Hall with the party and closed the door. It was an anxious wait for everyone outside.

  ‘They won’t take them away, will they?’ asked Hester, worried for her husband.

  ‘Why would they?’ answered Liliath, and turned as the Great Hall door opened, Ben emerging into the sunshine.

  ‘They want to speak to you,’ he said to Liliath.

  ‘Me? Why?’

  ‘You’d better come.’

  Liliath followed him back into the Hall and speculation was rife about why they needed to speak to her. It was a long time before the doors opened again and to their relief everyone emerged apparently unscathed. A few words were exchanged and the gentlemen rode away.

  ‘What did they want?’ asked Harry. ‘Is there trouble?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Cuthbert. ‘Will had apparently been acting violently in the village where he has been hiding and was last seen heading this way. Knowing his history with this place, albeit brief, they were anxious to find him and make him pay for what he has done. Abel was able to tell them his history and they weren’t surprised that he had appeared to be deranged, it was becoming more obvious over the last few weeks. We gave them a full account of what happened here and they weren’t surprised that he had turned so violent here too. He had destroyed everything in the house of the widow where he had been staying before he left. They wanted to find him to make him pay for all the damage, but there’s no chance of that. I doubt he had much money anyway.’

  ‘They can’t hang him either,’ said Ben, ‘more’s the pity.’

  ‘So what happens now?’ asked Alfred.

  ‘They are coming back in a few days’ time to look over the house. Lord Hesketh asked us to stay until he’s been and is satisfied with our work.’

  ‘And if he’s not?’

  ‘He will be,’ said Abel firmly. ‘We’ve done exactly what he wanted including his alterations. There will be no difficulties.’

  ‘What happens to us then?’ asked Ben.

  ‘I have been asked to go to a house in Yorkshire which I had a hand in building ten years ago. They want to extend as they have such a large family now. Working at the Royal Court has brought the family huge wealth and they want to show it, just like here.’

  ‘Will you be building stone fireplaces on outside walls?’ asked Cuthbert with a straight face.

  ‘I will do whatever I am asked but I won’t suggest it in the first place.’ He wagged a finger at Cuthbert. ‘I can see I am going to have to watch you, Mr Watts. As many of you as want to can come with me as I will need men I can rely on and trust. We will put this behind us and look forward to our future.’ At last they could see the way forward. New place, new work, new challenges, it was just what they all needed. But first there was a wedding to rearrange.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  It was three days before the Hall’s owner arrived together with a party of friends who wanted to see his new residence. They dismounted outside the Great Hall, leaving their horses in the care of numerous grooms before entering through the main entrance into the Hall and excitedly inspecting every room throughout the building. Voices could be heard exclaiming as they discovered bedrooms and the solar, Lord Hesketh’s office f
rom which the estate would be administered, a grand hall for the family in the west wing, smaller rooms for servants, storerooms and the guest rooms where numerous expected visitors would stay. There was a small chapel with a side room for the visiting priest to sleep in. In the east wing they inspected the buttery where racks awaited the barrels of beer, the scullery, the dry storerooms and the pantries, the game larder on the cooler north side of the house and, in a separate building, the kitchen where food for all of the household would be cooked. They peered up the great chimneys and stuck their heads in to the bread oven built into one wall. There was a hand pump bringing the water up from a deep well as well as another well outside in the stable yard. Drainage channels took away waste water. A vast table had been erected in the centre of the kitchen where most of the food preparation would take place and shelves along the walls waiting for the pots, pans and utensils which would be needed. Inside the chimney there were great iron hooks where sides of meat would be hung to smoke over the fire. Alongside the kitchen was a dairy where milk would be churned to make butter and shallow dishes stood ready for the making of cheese. A short distance away were the stables to house the numerous horses they would require with a hayloft above and a room where all the tack and harnesses would be stored and cleaned.

  Most of the party then walked round the outside of the building, looking up at the stone-covered roof, the numerous windows and the vast chimney for the Great Hall. The men wandered over to the Mere to discuss fishing, eels and the possibility of duck shooting. The three ladies in the party gathered on the south side to see where the herb garden and rose garden would be, all on the sunny side of the house. It was clear that Lady Hesketh had already had plans drawn up for both of these and discussed them with the others.

  Eventually everyone gathered in the Great Hall once more and settled on benches and seats to admire the heart of the house. A very well-behaved young Thomas dragged one of the young men of the party over to the great fireplace and showed him the chimney and the sky visible at the top. It was the first time many of them had seen the newly installed roof bosses and they craned their necks to admire them, identifying those they recognised and asking about the others. The crispness of the carving was amazing, making the designs stand out so clearly. Lord Hesketh explained the significance of the arms of the Derby family and proclaimed the Tudor rose to be the work of a master craftsman sent from Whalley Abbey. He did not, however, tell them of the drama which had so recently taken place directly underneath it. That was something which would be better forgotten. He did not want the taint of death to spoil his masterpiece.