The Rufford Rose Page 15

  Will shifted his position on the mat of branches. Cuthbert. Everything had started to go wrong when he had appeared. Will wanted to do the carving for the Great Hall, but Lord Derby wanted Cuthbert to do it. Abel had done his best to keep him out of the way but somehow Cuthbert always managed to make his presence known. Will was sure he was sneaking around the site doing drawings, making carvings for the hall, but he had never actually seen him doing anything wrong. If only he could catch him out. Some of the other men were friendly with Cuthbert, men who had tolerated Will and his lazy ways because he was Abel’s man. He must watch them too, see what it was they were planning for he was sure they were planning something.

  Then there was the girl, Jennet, Ezekial’s daughter. Pretty girl, he’d had his eye on her for a while but she was always with her two sisters. If he could only get her on her own he would show her what a real man could do. She wasn’t good enough to be a wife to him for he was a rich man’s son, he must never forget that. One day he would wed a girl worthy of his status, one day when he was rich. Meanwhile, Jennet would be worth a tumble or two in the hay. He’d show her why the village girls couldn’t resist him. He was oblivious to the fact that the village girls were scared of him and only went with him because he forced them to. He closed his eyes and imagined what he would do with Jennet. Oh yes, one day he’d have her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The year was drawing to a close as the days shortened and the temperature dropped. The main structure of the house was complete but a tremendous amount of work was yet to do inside. Most of the internal walls were in place but making all the furniture would keep all the men busy throughout the winter. The hours they could work were shortened, dawn to dusk meant as little as six hours some days and they were glad of the shelter of the woodshed where work was mainly centred. Pieces of tables and stools, benches and chests were strewn about in a seemingly random fashion but each man knew exactly what was where and worked on whatever piece was current. Many worked alone, some in pairs as they constructed the larger and more complicated pieces. Cuthbert was engaged in cutting and planing long boards that would form the top of a long table in the Great Hall where the family would sit. Each had to be the same length and thickness and fit closely with the rest. Together with Alfred they had already constructed the base with its several legs and cross pieces for strength. A wood turner had fashioned the stout legs from solid oak, creating wonderful shapes up the length of each one. It had been fascinating watching his skill as he created the first one and once Abel had passed it as good he then had to reproduce it as closely as he could for the other seven legs to match. Cuthbert was always interested in watching other craftsmen work and had kept an eye on him as the lump of wood had been turned into a thing of beauty.

  By the end of a week’s hard work the table was ready and the top and base were carried into the Great Hall ready for assembly the following Monday. They placed the base exactly in the centre of the west wall where a stout, protruding length of wood was set into the wall between the stone base and the upper wall and would provide a long seat for those who sat at the top table. On Monday Cuthbert and Alfred would, with the help of several others, lift the top into place and fix it in position from underneath. It was awkward work, lying underneath and slotting pegs under the table into slots on the base, then securing them, and not work to be done on a tired Saturday afternoon. They needed to be fresh and ready.

  That night it was particularly cold with a hard frost which transformed the morning scene. Every leaf of every tree was coated with a silvery white cover, each blade of grass glistened and in the bushes the spiders webs were picked out in delicate links of frost. Most people shivered and hurried about whatever they were doing, breaking the ice on the water troughs for the animals, picking their way delicately on the ice covered pathways and scurrying back indoors as soon as they could. Cuthbert welcomed the warmth of the house and sat close to the fire as he worked on a small carving again. Liliath watched him as she kneaded dough at the table.

  ‘What is it this time?’ she asked. ‘Something for the house?’

  ‘Maybe,’ replied Cuthbert, deliberately avoiding a straight answer, and he smiled at her. ‘It’s a gift for someone.’

  ‘Oh? Now who may that be I wonder?’ She watched a pink tinge spread across Cuthbert’s face. ‘Feeling the warmth of the fire?’ she asked, innocently, and the tinge became a blush. She laughed quietly. ‘No need to keep it secret, we all know you have eyes only for one in this village. Jennet, is it?’

  Cuthbert nearly sliced into his finger.

  ‘Is it that obvious?’ he asked.

  ‘You mean, nobody notices you become tongue-tied whenever she’s near, your eyes follow every move she makes and you spend long minutes gazing into the distance when she passes by on her innocent duties? No, Cuthbert, it’s not at all obvious.’

  Cuthbert bent his head over his work, his concentration gone now that it was out in the open.

  ‘She’s a lovely girl,’ said Liliath, gently. ‘She’ll make someone a good wife.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not gone that far!’ cried Cuthbert.

  ‘But you would like it to?’

  Cuthbert nodded. For someone who had never really thought about the future in that way he was finding it remarkably clear cut for him apart from one thing. Did Jennet feel the same way about him? She always smiled kindly at him and usually stopped if he was passing. He had rescued her from Will’s attentions but her sisters had been there as well. Her father was always welcoming whenever he called for some special wood or other and her mother, a shy, quiet sort of woman, clearly did not object to his presence, busying herself about the house whenever he called. Her younger sisters giggled behind their hands a great deal, but that was girls, wasn’t it? Oh dear, it was so difficult. He wasn’t one for talking about his feelings so what could he do?

  ‘Why don’t you go for a walk?’ suggested Liliath. ‘It’s cold but it’s dry and it’s lovely down by the Mere on a day like this, very still and quiet. You won’t meet many people and, you never know, Jennet may have the same idea. You could do with some fresh air anyway. You can’t sit by the fire all day. Go on.’

  Cuthbert wrapped the piece of work he was carving in a cloth and stowed it in his tool bag. Perhaps a bit of exercise would clear his head. He pulled on his thicker leather boots, wrapped his warm woollen cloak about his shoulders and left the house. The cold hit him like a wall as soon as he stepped outside. He could see his breath in the air and icy fingers penetrated down his neck. He pulled his cloak closer and set off briskly towards the Mere, frosted grass crunching underfoot and icy puddles glistening in the weak sunlight which held no warmth in it at all. The sky was a beautiful pale clear blue with not a cloud to be seen. There wasn’t a breath of wind. It was as though life had stopped and was holding its breath until the warmth returned.

  On the track leading to the Mere he caught a glimpse of a fox trotting purposefully across the way, nose to the ground, following a scent it had caught. It was probably hungry, all the rabbits it usually preyed on were warm in their burrows below. The trees were golden with their falling leaves and had a special glow in the clear air He could see further into the wood but there was no sign of anybody moving. Maybe he should walk to the water’s edge and along the track in the direction of Ezekial’s home and wood store on the off chance of seeing Jennet or her sisters.

  At last he reached the shore and sat down on an old trunk to gaze across the water. A thin skimming of ice covered the surface but further out a pair of ducks were swimming across from one little promontory to another. Everything was so still and quiet, he could have been alone in the world. His hands caressed the log he was sitting on, feeling the wood as he always did and something in his mind registered that this was different. He looked down. This was no newly fallen log, it was old, worn but beautifully intact, no gaps in the bark, and blacker than any wood he had seen. He would guess it was oak but not like the oak he worked with every day. H
e had only seen wood like it once before in a hall in Chester where a great screen had been made of it, beautifully carved with intricate designs. Was this something he could work with? Ezekial would know, and there was his excuse to go to the house and ask and hopefully see Jennet as well. He got to his feet immediately, looked around to fix the place in his memory and turned towards the track leading to the woodshed.

  Exekial emerged from the wood store as Cuthbert approached.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘here for something special, are you?’ He smiled at Cuthbert. He liked the lad, he was a good worker and patient with it. He had watched him at work, always fully concentrated on whatever he was doing and only satisfied with the best. Somebody had trained him well and he would go far. He wouldn’t just be a jobbing carpenter, taking whatever work he could find. Before long he would be able to choose where he worked and for whom as his skill was recognised more widely and the quality of his work became known.

  The question had also had another meaning but Ezekial kept a straight face. He and his wife had noticed how often the girls, especially Jennet, dropped Cuthbert’s name into the conversation. Cuthbert said this and Cuthbert did that. It was Cuthbert after all who had rescued Jennet from the unwelcome attentions of the slimy toad of a man, Will. They were not averse to the friendship, in fact, they welcomed it and Cuthbert would always be welcome in their house.

  Cuthbert took the question as he interpreted it.

  ‘Yes.’ he said. ‘I saw some wood down by the Mere, a huge log of oak but it looked different to the wood you cut, as though it was very old. Is it good to work with, do you know?’

  ‘You mean the bog oak, as we call it? Yes, it is very good, very hard, very endurable but you have to work it before it dries out. When it’s freshly out of the water it’s soft and easily cut but once it dries it’s as hard as iron and is very difficult, if not impossible, to work. Why? Are you thinking of using it for something?’

  ‘Is there a lot of it? Do you have any?’

  ‘No, I don’t, because as I say, it goes too hard if it’s stored. You need to work on it straight away. What have you in mind?’

  ‘Has Abel said anything to you about a screen for the Great Hall? Most of the other halls I have worked on have had one.’

  ‘He’s not said anything to me yet but I presume he will. I know of others he has done.’

  ‘Do you know whether he has used this bog oak before?’

  ‘Now, that I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘I’m not sure he would take a suggestion from me. He’s tried to keep me out of anything major so far.’

  ‘That hasn’t stopped you from what I hear.’

  Cuthbert looked in alarm at the older man.

  ‘What has he said?’

  ‘He hasn’t said anything, but from what I hear there are several pieces of your “special” work already in the house. Now, don’t look so worried, remember, you have friends who would not betray you. I know most of the men there and they know I would never betray you either. Besides, Jennet also told me about some special carvings you have been doing.’

  ‘How does she know?’

  ‘She listens when she is about the site and the village. People don’t always stop talking when she walks by, she is, after all, only a girl! But don’t worry, your secret is safe with her. In fact, she would do a lot for you, Cuthbert.’ He gave him a meaningful look and was not surprised to see him blush. ‘Why don’t you come inside where it’s a bit warmer and we can think about this bog oak a bit more.’

  Cuthbert followed him into the house and was immediately hit by the warmth. He took his cloak off and hung it on a peg by the door.

  ‘Here, sit down near the fire. It smells as though someone has been baking. Is there any to spare?’ he asked Hester, his wife.

  ‘Of course, isn’t there always,’ she replied, and set a bowl of newly baked little loaves down on the table. ‘Mary, fetch some cheese from the larder, and there are a few of the windfall apples left. There’ll be some broth soon but it’s not been on the fire long enough yet.’

  Cuthbert immediately felt at home as Hester and the girls bustled about to gather the few essentials for their unexpected guest, but it was Jennet that Cuthbert followed with his eyes as she studiously avoided his gaze and sat down at the far end of the table. The reaction between the two of them did not go unnoticed by her parents though, and after he had left and later in the day when the family were settling down for the night, Ezekial and Hester whispered about him in the privacy of their bed chamber.

  ‘He is unaware of how important he is to this build,’ whispered Ezekial, pulling the blanket up around his ears.

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ asked Hester, snuggling close and wrapping her arms around him.

  ‘He was sent here by Lord Derby, no less, and Abel was told he must use his special skills here. Abel doesn’t want him and has done his best to thwart any attempts by Cuthbert to work in the Great Hall. He can’t send him away but he puts every obstacle in the lad’s way, even gave him a beating a while go.’

  ‘No!’ cried Hester, sitting up in alarm. ‘You never said. Why? Is he all right?’

  ‘He’s fine now but it has only made Cuthbert more determined to use his skill here, despite what Abel says. He has secretly been working on various carvings and his friends, and there are many among the men, who put it in place for him, sometimes even under the very nose of Abel. I think they are quite enjoying it.’

  ‘What if Abel realises?’

  ‘I doubt that he will because Cuthbert continues to do the tasks he sets him, out of the way, mundane but necessary work, and he thinks he has no time to do anything else, but Jehan tells me that every night he is working away at something or other until he goes to bed.’

  Hester gave a girlish giggle.

  ‘It reminds me of that time the girls made you that shirt for your birthday, hiding it away whenever you came in and always looking busy. You had no idea about it, did you?’

  ‘No, and I didn’t dare tell them later that it was too tight either. They’d have been so upset.’

  They settled down again and were drifting off to sleep when Hester asked, ‘Do you think he’ll ask for her hand?’

  After a long silence he answered,

  ‘Yes, I do, and he’ll be very welcome. Now, stop your dreaming and get to sleep. It’s another day tomorrow and I need to talk to Abel.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Wood, of course. What else? Now go to sleep.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Monday morning was unusually cold for late October with a touch of frost still on the ground as the men walked to their work, hands stuffed in pockets or tucked into armpits for warmth.

  ‘If it’s as cold as this now, what’s the winter going to be like?’ asked Harry as he blew into his cupped hands.

  ‘Cold, very cold,’ replied Alfred. ‘My grandfather used to say that if it started cold this early we were in for a long winter and he was rarely wrong.’

  ‘Good thing we’ve plenty of work to keep us warm then,’ said Cuthbert, looking round for the others and almost tripping over a tree root in the path.

  ‘You don’t need to work to keep warm when you’ve got someone to warm you,’ remarked Alfric, grinning at Cuthbert who immediately blushed.

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ cried Cuthbert, concentrating on where he put his feet.

  ‘Ezekial’s lass,’ replied Alfric. ‘Don’t think we haven’t noticed you whenever you see her.’ He nudged his neighbour. ‘Cuthbert’s “falling in love”,’ he sighed, clutching both hands to his heart.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ denied Cuthbert, hotly, but he was fooling none of them and there was much banter as they approached the house.

  Cuthbert stopped to look up at the fine building and couldn’t help feeling a certain amount of pride in the fact that he was helping to build such a wonderful place. There were still a few sections of the wooden scaffolding up around the walls where gu
tters and some of the roof stones were being finished. One or two windows in the upper floors of the west wing were still open to the sky but the glass was coming in the next few days to finish those off, the inner wooden shutters already in place to keep the rooms dry. Over the main door to the Great Hall some carved woodwork was half finished, the missing piece being carried by Alfric. To the right the west wing projected forward towards them, a grand house for the family. To the left a smaller east wing held all the domestic part of the house with sculleries and storerooms aplenty to service a large household. The kitchens were housed in a separated wing out to the east, away from the main building. Nobody wanted a stray spark from the cooking fires to ignite the main wooden building. It was the largest house he had ever been involved with though he had helped with bigger Great Halls in Chester.