The Rufford Rose Page 16

  He passed through the main door and stood in the vast space of the Great Hall. The walls towered above with the span of the roof lifting high above him. He had always admired the use of hammer beams which removed the need for supporting pillars for a high ceiling. By transferring the weight of the lofty roof down the timbers of the walls to the ground they opened up the whole room giving a greater impression of space. There were still several ladders against the walls where carvings were being fixed at the tops of the walls. Otherwise there was little decoration in here as Abel preferred plain wood. Some of the furniture may well be painted later but that would very much depend on the owner once the building was completed.

  ‘Are we fixing this table today or not?’ called Alfred from the far end.

  ‘Sorry,’ called Cuthbert and hurried to the west end where the two parts of the table awaited them. They checked that the base was central along the wall then several of them lifted the great weight of oak onto it.

  Alfric was standing at one end ready to position it correctly with Harry at the other.

  ‘Bit more to me,’ he said, bending to see that the top slotted onto the pegs on the base which had been cut to receive it.’

  ‘Whoa!’ cried Harry from the other end. ‘Too far. Back this way a bit.’

  The men shuffled sideways but Alfric cried,

  ‘No, no, no. You’ve missed it.’

  Harry got down on his knees and peered underneath.

  ‘Can’t see where the holes for this end are. Just a minute.’ He felt underneath with his fingers then bent to look closer again.

  ‘Hurry up,’ said Cuthbert. ‘It’s heavy.’

  Harry looked up a puzzled expression on his face.

  ‘There aren’t any holes cut,’ he said.

  ‘What! Of course there are, I cut them myself.’ Cuthbert stared at Harry.

  ‘Well, they aren’t there now. Look for yourself.’

  ‘Put it down, carefully, that’s it, now tip it on its side.’ The men laid the huge piece of wood down and tipped it so that it stood on one edge. Cuthbert bent to look at the places where he knew there had been slots ready to fit into the pegs on the base. There was nothing there. He stood back, totally bemused.

  ‘They were there, I know they were,’ he cried.

  ‘I saw you do them,’ affirmed another of the carpenters. ‘You were right next to me when you shaped them.’

  They all stood looking at the smooth underside of the table top. Suddenly, Cuthbert ran his fingers along the edge of the table, then bent down to look closely.

  ‘I don’t believe it! Someone has cut the end of the table off completely. Look. I sanded it to make it smooth and slightly rounded, but this is straight and sharp.’

  ‘Why? Who would do such a thing? What for?’ cried several voices at once, and those nearest felt with their own fingers, the sharp edge of the wood.

  ‘When was it done?’ asked Harry.

  ‘I reckon on Saturday or Sunday night. No one would be around then. It was so cold that few would venture forth.’ Cuthbert looked at the table. It had taken ages to assemble the top to make it as smooth as possible and sturdy enough for its purpose.

  ‘Who would do it though?’ asked Alfric.

  ‘I could think of one but what evidence have we?’ said another of the men.

  ‘Do you mean who I think you mean?’ asked Harry.

  ‘Will. He’s mean and nasty enough to do it, though it would be the first time he’s done anything as difficult without being caught. It will have taken a fair while if he was trying to be quiet,’ reasoned Alfric.

  ‘But why?’ queried Cuthbert. ‘What was he trying to achieve?’

  ‘He knew that you had been working on it, Cuthbert. You’re not his favourite carpenter, remember.’

  ‘But to deliberately spoil such a vital piece of work is just … ridiculous. I know he doesn’t like me but to deliberately do that.’

  ‘See, over here,’ cried Alfric. ‘Sawdust. We haven’t sawn anything in here for ages, we always do that work in the woodshed. This is fresh.’ He bent and picked up some between his fingers and sniffed it. ‘Yes, this is oak, and look, he’s tried to sweep it up but he’s left some.’

  ‘Probably couldn’t see properly in the dark with only a lanthorn candle to work by.’ Cuthbert rubbed his hands through his hair. ‘Well, there’s nothing for it, we’ll have to remake the whole end of the table. I can probably splice a piece in so that it’s hardly noticeable. Lay it down and I’ll measure what is needed.’

  ‘Look out! Here comes Abel,’ called Joshua, one of the apprentices by the door.

  ‘Just what we need,’ muttered Cuthbert as he bent down with his ruler.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ cried Abel, striding the length of the hall. ‘That table should be finished.’ He stood, legs apart, hands on hips and glared at the group of men. ‘Why isn’t that top in place?’

  ‘Because someone has cut at least eight inches off the end, maybe more. I’m just measuring it,’ replied Cuthbert, from the floor.

  ‘Cut the end off!’ bellowed Abel. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Why would anyone do that?’

  ‘Perhaps you should ask Will,’ replied Cuthbert, getting to his feet and standing to face the master builder, a glint in his eye that was rarely seen except when he was really angry, and Cuthbert was barely controlling the anger that was bubbling up inside him.

  ‘Will? Why on earth would he do such a thing?’

  ‘Because ever since I arrived here he has done his best to belittle me, sneering at me, moving work when I turn away for a moment, taking my tools, putting me down in front of you, destroying my work when it is half finished, ruining the plans I showed you. He is jealous of me though God knows why. I have never done anything to him except prove that I am the better worker. Who do you think sorted out the problem with that arch?’ He pointed behind him to the great arch at the far end of the hall. ‘You left him to erect it and he couldn’t even do that. Trying to put it together the wrong way round, he was. No wonder it wouldn’t fit. Who saved Bern’s leg when that trunk trapped him in the mud? We did because I saw what happened and was able to help quickly.’ Cuthbert moved a step nearer. ‘It’s about time you looked at what he does every day, really looked. Oh yes, he can look ever so busy but what does he actually do? Show me a piece of work he has actually completed. You won’t find much, though to listen to him in the ale house you would think he was building this place single-handed. And where is he now? Oh surprise, he’s not here. Probably sleeping off his night’s work sawing the end of this table off.’

  Cuthbert was shaking with fury as everyone stood round in stunned silence. They had never heard him talk like this. He had always shrugged off all the slights and comments from Will, all the derision he had heaped on him but this was too much. They had spent many hours creating this table only to have it spoilt by a jealous young man who knew he could never match up to their craftsmanship. He was breathing heavily as he stared into Abel’s face, his hands clenched at his side to prevent him hitting him.

  ‘How dare you?’ hissed Abel. ‘I knew from the moment you were foisted on me that you would be trouble. Master carver! Huh! I know a master carver when I see one and you are not one. I never wanted you here but because the great Lord Derby brought you I had to accept you. I have told you time and again to keep out of the way, to do as I say. Well, your days are numbered, my lad. Next time I see the owner of this building I shall tell him that I find you totally unsuitable and refuse to have you on site. Then what will you do, master carver? Who will you run to next with your cock-and-bull stories about your fellow workmen, because believe me, you will never work in this county again nor in any other once I spread the word about you. A trouble-maker, that’s what you are, a trouble-maker.’ He turned on his heel and pushed his way through the group of men who had gathered to hear the argument, their shouting having been heard all over the house.

  Cuthbert was still shaking with fury, breathing hard
, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt like smashing something but was stopped by a gentle hand on his arm and he turned to see Ezekial by his side.

  ‘Well said, lad,’ said the older man. ‘It needed saying and you were the only one who had the courage to do it. Well done.’

  A murmur went round the rest of the men.

  ‘You don’t deserve it,’ said one.

  ‘’Bout time someone stood up to him,’ said another.

  ‘Aye, I’ve worked for him for nigh on twenty year and I’ve never heard him speak like that. He’s getting past it.’ said a third.

  ‘He’s had his troubles,’ said Ezekial. ‘He’s never been the same since his wife died. He can’t cope with it any more. He can still do the work but he can’t cope with problems any more. One time this would never have happened. Still, he should never have taken it out on you, lad.’

  ‘At least I didn’t get a beating this time,’ commented Cuthbert, calming down a little.

  ‘What happens now?’ asked Alfric.

  ‘I say carry on,’ advised Ezekial. ‘The house still has to be finished.’

  ‘Wait till I get my hands on that slimy snake, Will,’ growled Harry.

  ‘The best you can do is to completely ignore him,’ said Ezekial, thoughtfully. ‘He will probably turn up in here soon and expect there to be trouble over what he’s done. Well, don’t give him the satisfaction. Carry on as though nothing has happened. Just go about your work as though nothing has been said or done. See how that pleases him, eh?’

  ‘He’ll think he’s got away with it!’ exclaimed Alfric. ‘We can’t do that.’

  ‘Ezekial is right,’ said Harry, quietly. ‘He wants to see a big fuss over this, Cuthbert blamed for bad workmanship and dismissed. If we replace the timbers and make no deal about it he’ll wonder why. He can hardly go to Abel and say the table was damaged when he did it, can he?’

  ‘But Abel already knows. Won’t he speak to Will, see what he knows?’ asked Japheth.

  ‘Will can talk himself out of anything,’ pointed out Cuthbert. ‘What we need is proof that he and only he could have done it.’

  ‘How?’ asked several voices.

  Cuthbert thought about this for a while then said,

  ‘We probably can’t prove it this time but he’s not likely to give up, is he? Why don’t we lay a trap for him?’

  ‘What do you mean? Keep watch?’

  ‘We know he’s always going on about my carving. He hasn’t seen much of my work yet because we’ve always kept it apart from everyone else’s and you have put it in place for me. What if I make a show of creating something for, say, the solar in the west wing? Just a small piece but detailed enough to catch Will’s attention. Make sure he knows what it is and where it is intended for. At the end of a day I leave it out in the room ready to put in place next morning, making sure Will knows about it, perhaps by showing it to him when none of you are around, as though I am sharing its importance with him alone. That will peak his interest. If it is damaged or even missing next morning you can all truthfully claim to know nothing about it while I can point the finger at Will as being the only person other than myself who knew where it was going.’

  ‘What about Abel though? He always believes whatever Will tells him,’ said Harry.

  ‘He has said I may only work in the wing. I could tell him what I intend to do with the piece, maybe even show him a drawing of it for his approval. He can’t deny me completely.’

  ‘It might just work,’ agreed Ezekial, rubbing his chin, thoughtfully. ‘If you painted it before you fastened it in place and said you were leaving it to dry overnight, we could look for traces of paint on Will’s hands or clothing next day. Paint it last thing so it will still be wet for most of the night.’

  Several heads nodded. Whilst it was unusual to paint carved decorations, doing so before they were in place was not unknown.

  ‘Let’s do it then,’ cried Alfred. ‘How soon can you have something ready, Cuthbert?’

  ‘I have just the piece,’ grinned Cuthbert. ‘A green man face I did a while ago but haven’t used. I have the drawing too so I could show Abel today and in a few days produce the carving ready for painting. Make sure Will is around to overhear, then paint it and leave it out in the room upstairs. Even better if he happened to come up and see it.’

  ‘Let’s do it,’ cried Alfric.

  Later that day, when the table had been repaired and fixed to the base, Cuthbert sought out Abel with his drawing of the face. Abel was still grumbling about his carelessness but glanced at the drawing Cuthbert gave him.

  ‘Hmm,’ he muttered. ‘Not bad. Where are you thinking of putting it?’

  ‘In the solar, in the corner by the window. It will look down on the room. I have made several before now. The owners seem to like them, some sort of symbol of good luck, I believe.’

  ‘You need plenty of that,’ grumbled Abel. ‘Get it made then but show me before you put it up. If it’s not to my standard you won’t be using it. I won’t have poor craftsmanship even in dark corners.’

  ‘It won’t be,’ agreed Cuthbert.

  Work continued for the following week. Cuthbert kept mentioning in Will’s hearing that he was working on a special carving in the evenings, something for the solar. Will pretended indifference at first but at the end of the week he actually asked, sneeringly, if his masterpiece was complete.

  ‘Almost,’ replied Cuthbert. ‘I’m quite pleased with it. I should be able to put it in place in a couple of days.’ Will nodded and walked away. We’ll see about that, he thought.

  Next day, Cuthbert showed the piece to Abel who grudgingly approved it, then told a few people that he was ready to put their plan in action. He made sure that Will saw him head for the solar and wasn’t surprised when he suddenly appeared in the doorway. Cuthbert was kneeling on the floor and pretended surprise when he saw Will.

  ‘I didn’t think you were interested,’ he remarked.

  ‘Always like to see a master carver at work,’ said Will. He peered over Cuthbert’s shoulder. ‘Nothing special, is it? Anyone could carve that.’

  ‘Maybe, but not with as much detail. See, his hair is waved with tiny cuts along the length. Look at his eyes, I’ve detailed his pupils, and the mouth shows his teeth.’

  ‘Huh! Detail? Waste of time when it’s stuck up in a dark corner. Who’ll ever see detail like that? Could have done two carvings in the time it’s taken you to bother with detail.’

  ‘I take pride in my work, Will. Do you? Besides, Abel has approved it.’

  ‘Get the job done, I say’ snapped Will, and turned to leave.

  ‘I’ll put it in place tomorrow when the light’s a little better,’ Cuthbert called after him and got to his feet. Crossing to the window he saw him walk away towards the village. Cuthbert got back down on the floor and took some small jars of paint and some brushes out of the bag he had carried up earlier. It didn’t take him long to mix the paint and decorate the carving in green with piercing brown eyes, red lips and white teeth. When it was done he sat back and looked at it. Not bad, he thought. If only it could talk and tell him what happened during the night. He touched it carefully with one finger. With any luck it would still be wet in the morning. He shivered. A cold night was what was needed to prevent it drying completely.

  The weather, however, turned slightly warmer overnight and by morning there was an inch or more of snow on the ground. It transformed the countryside, hiding all the ugly parts of the building site, making the light so much brighter and with more snow likely to fall from the heavy clouds. As the men gathered to start work, pulling thick capes about their shoulders and blowing on cold fingers, Cuthbert smiled to himself.

  ‘What are you so pleased about?’ asked Alfred, beating his sides with his hands to warm himself.

  ‘Look,’ said Cuthbert, pointing at the ground. ‘Footprints! And see where they are coming from. The west wing.’ He looked about and said softly, ‘Has anyone been into the hou
se yet?’

  Nobody had.

  ‘Don’t walk on those prints,’ he said. ‘I’m going to look.’

  He went inside and up the stairs. His carving lay in pieces on the floor of the solar, smashed by a sharp tool clean down the middle and flung aside like a piece of rubbish. The ruse had worked. Now they had to prove it was Will. He made his way down again, a big smile on his face.

  ‘It worked?’ asked Alfric.

  ‘Someone has taken a blade to it, smashed it. Now we have to find Will, see what he has been up to. He must have done it before it started snowing, there are no wet footprints inside but we have these footsteps leading out. Let’s see where they lead.’

  The clear prints in the snow led them straight to Will’s billet. He was just emerging, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and shivering. He looked in surprise at the group of men walking towards him.

  ‘What’s happened?’ he asked.

  ‘Perhaps you could tell us,’ replied Cuthbert. ‘What have you been up to in the night?’

  ‘Me? Nothing. Slept like a log.’

  ‘How come your shoes are wet then,’ asked Alfred pointing at Will’s feet.

  Will looked down at the clear signs of moisture on the sides of his shoes.

  ‘Let’s see if your shoes fit these tracks, shall we?’ suggested Cuthbert, and grabbed Will’s arm, propelling him towards the footprints in the snow. He forced Will to put one foot in the mark. ‘Perfect fit, I’d say.’

  ‘It … it could be anyone,’ blustered Will. ‘Someone going to the privy or … somewhere.’

  ‘On a freezing cold night like last night? I hardly think so.’ Cuthbert felt the sleeve of his jerkin. ‘Why are your clothes damp? Was it snowing when you went for a walk?’

  ‘A walk? Why would anyone go for a walk in the snow?’ Will tried to pull away but Cuthbert held him fast.

  ‘Let’s have a look at your hands.’ He grabbed Will’s arm and held it out. Will tried to pull away but Cuthbert was too strong. They all looked at smears of green paint on his fingers. ‘How did you get paint on your hands?’ he asked, sternly.