The Rufford Rose Page 20

  Lord Derby bowed his assent and they turned back into the room. Lady Hesketh suddenly exclaimed,

  ‘Look! A Green Man!’ and pointed to the carving in the corner by the window. ‘I have always wanted one of those. How delightful,’ and they all craned to see.

  ‘That is the work of Cuthbert,’ declared Abel, ‘the man you sent from Whalley Abbey, my Lord.’

  ‘Ah, finally he has carved a piece for us.’

  ‘There are several examples of his work around the house now. He is indeed a fine craftsman as you said.’

  ‘I told you he would be an asset,’ said Lord Derby, ‘but come let us see the rest of the house.’

  The party went into every room in the wing then crossed outside to view the east wing where the domestic working of the house would be carried out, and into the great kitchen beyond where the hearths and bread ovens were still under construction. Outside once more, they entered the Great Hall by the big double doors on the north side. Everybody’s eyes immediately rose to the vault of the roof and exclaimed in wonder at the size of it.

  ‘So much light!’ exclaimed one.

  ‘Look at the size of those windows!’ cried another, and the whole party walked round, pointing and exclaiming at everything they saw. Young Thomas broke free from his nursemaid and ran into the great fireplace, craned his neck and looked upwards.

  ‘I can see the sky,’ he shouted. ‘Come and see, father.’ To the child’s delight, his father joined him below the great arch and peered upwards.

  ‘Whatever made you put the fireplace here?’ asked one of the other young men, joining them in the hearth to look up to the sky.

  ‘It was an idea I saw on my travels,’ replied Lord Hesketh. ‘It makes much more space in the body of the hall.’ He emerged from the fireplace and crossed to the doors which led into the west wing, his eyes going to the carving over them. He nodded his approval. ‘Is this Cuthbert’s work?’ he asked.

  ‘No, but some of the carvings at the top of the walls are,’ said Abel, and gave a sideways glance to Cuthbert who was watching from the main door. He couldn’t refrain from smiling. Abel was finally recognising his work.

  The group continued to walk around the hall as the family spoke of tapestries to hang on the walls, tables and benches to provide seating, great candlesticks to provide light during the darker months.

  ‘There is still a lot of work to do in here,’ explained Abel.

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ interrupted Lord Hesketh. ‘I have brought some plans with me for the decorations. Jasper, where are those papers?’ A young squire stepped forward and handed his master a roll of papers. Lord Hesketh took the roll and opened it out on the long table at the western end. ‘Now, you have already carved above the doors as we agreed but I would like more carvings in the roof. See those square panels bounded by the crossbeams, I want a decorative piece in the centre of each, like this,’ and he pointed to a drawing on the paper. ‘On the bracing pieces below the hammer beams I want carvings similar to those over the doors. I have drawn a few ideas but I am sure that you, or indeed Cuthbert, could design some more.’ He turned to look up at the highest points above where the arches met in the centre. ‘Ah, I see you have already put some roof bosses in place, but they are so plain, like round cushions, nothing more. There are four? Five? No matter. I want some of our family crests there, to remember from whence we came. I have had drawn some of the more important ones. Perhaps you could select the most suitable. Some are very complex and may be difficult to reproduce but we can use those elsewhere in the house.’ He looked at Abel who was trying not to show his discomfiture at these latest alterations to his perfect building. ‘I trust this work is not beyond the capabilities of your men? I want only the best.’

  ‘Of course, my Lord,’ muttered Abel, and gave him a weak smile. ‘I will set my best carvers to the task immediately.’ He took a deep breath to calm himself and went on,

  ‘Have you given any thought to a screen for the east end of the room, to screen the domestic side of the house from the guests?’

  ‘Ah, yes a screen. It will have to be very large to be effective, will it not? I don’t want a paltry little thing that is no real use.’ He walked to the east end and surveyed the two external doors to the north and south. In the eastern wall were three doorways giving access to the buttery and other domestic rooms. ‘Yes, I see what you mean. There will be a lot of movement through here, won’t there?’

  ‘With two external doors it may also be used as a passage from one side of the house to the other,’ suggested Lord Derby, who had been following the conversation. ‘A screen’s passage, in fact. People could wait here to be received by you. That will be the main entrance, I take it,’ he said pointing to the northern door, ‘unless, of course they arrive from the south, as we have done.’

  ‘Quite so,’ agreed Lord Hesketh. ‘Have you had some ideas on this?’ he asked Abel.

  ‘We have, my Lord. Cuthbert and I have been looking at some ideas and we were hoping to make something worthy of so fine a house, created by my best men from some of the best oak in the region, bog oak straight from the Mere.’

  The company looked surprised and there was a murmur of approval. Abel produced the simple plans he had drawn and the men moved back to the long table at the far end to see them.

  ‘My Lady?’ whispered Betsy. ‘May I take Master Thomas for a walk? He is becoming very restive with all this talk.’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Lady Hesketh, ‘but not too far and don’t let him get cold. Thomas, do as Betsy tells you. Now, put your hat on, it is still very cold out there even though the sun is shining.’

  ‘Thank you, mama,’ cried Thomas and almost dragged Betsy from the room.

  The men were busy surveying the plans for the screen, whilst the ladies were deciding which of the tapestries Grace, Lady Hesketh, had brought with her on her marriage, would be suitable for this great room. Lady Derby said that the ones of hunting scenes would be appropriate whilst Grace wanted to display some of the floral subjects instead.

  ‘Those would be more suitable in your solar,’ suggested Lady Derby, and, on reflection, Grace agreed.

  ‘I trust there is a good blacksmith in the village? I want two great candle stands for either side of the fireplace, each holding about twelve candles. We had such at home and they were much admired.’ Lady Hesketh tuned about in the room, imagining it filled with people. She could not help but be excited at the prospect of welcoming her guests to such a beautiful room.

  The plans for the screen had been of great interest to Lord Hesketh. He had not envisaged anything quite as elaborate as he saw drawn here but as Abel explained it he grew more enthusiastic.

  ‘It will indeed be a wonder, if you can create such a thing. The wood is available locally, you say? … Whatever is that?’

  A piercing scream rent the air and for an instant everyone froze.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ‘What is it? What has happened?’ repeated Lord Derby. The scream came again and they all surged towards the northern doorway. The screams intensified and in the confusion everyone tried to discover where it was coming from.

  ‘This way!’ cried Jasper, the young squire, and set off at a run towards the Mere. Men who had been working in the house and woodsheds emerged to see what was happening and rushed towards the shore where the screams were becoming more and more hysterical. Cuthbert, who had been on his way between house and woodshed, was the first to reach the water. A short distance further north there was a wooden jetty sticking out into the Mere where the fishing boats of the villagers were often moored. Standing at the furthest end was Betsy, the nursemaid, screaming for all she was worth, bent over as though in agony, her hands to her face.

  ‘What is it? What’s happened?’ cried Cuthbert, running carefully along the ice-slicked boards towards her. Several others followed. He reached Betsy and took her hands in his, trying to stop the hysteria. ‘What has happened?’

  As though suddenly
realising he was there she clutched at him, pointed down into the water and managed to get out the words,

  ‘There … down there … he fell … into the … water.’

  ‘Who fell?’ asked Cuthbert.

  ‘The young master … Master Thomas … he was running … and he … slipped … and he … fell in.’ She gulped, trying to catch her breath, and fell to sobbing again.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ cried Lord Hesketh, who had heard as he came up behind Cuthbert. ‘My boy! No, no, not Thomas!’

  Lady Hesketh heard the words and fell to her knees on the shore crying ‘No, no, no, no, no, no.’ Martha knelt on the ground beside her and tried to hold her up.

  ‘What can we do?’ asked Lord Hesketh.

  Cuthbert was already pulling off his cloak and boots.

  ‘I’ll go in and see if I can find him,’ he cried, and peered into the murky water.

  ‘You’ll freeze!’ exclaimed one of the Hesketh party.

  ‘It’s madness!’ cried another.

  ‘Not if I’m quick.’

  Cuthbert sat down on the edge of the jetty and peered into the water. A thin layer of ice covered all but a small area where the child must have fallen through. He could see no sign of him in the murky water. He gently eased himself over the side and into the freezing water. It made him catch his breath but he lowered himself down until he had to let go and drop. The water was not very deep here, he knew, but it would be over his head before he touched bottom. He pulled in a deep breath and let go, sinking fast until he touched the bottom. It was soft and muddy and his feet sank up to his ankles. Even with his eyes open he could see nothing underwater and felt around with his hands until he felt something, a piece of clothing, then, as he worked his way along it, he found a hand, then an arm, then the small body of the child. Grasping it in his arms he tried to pull it upwards but the feet were stuck in the mud. His lungs were bursting and he was beginning to feel dizzy from cold and lack of breath but he heaved on it until suddenly, the mud yielded and the body came free. Hoping he too wasn’t stuck, Cuthbert kicked viciously and began to rise through the murky water until, at last, his head broke the surface. Eager hands reached out to take his burden from him and lift it onto the jetty, then helped Cuthbert out of the water. Lord Hesketh was kneeling over his son, sobbing but unable to do anything. Cuthbert quickly crawled to him and looked at the white face of the little boy, the blue lips and closed eyes.

  ‘We must make him breathe,’ he whispered, and wiped strands of weed from the child’s face. He opened Thomas’s mouth and gently scooped mud from it with his fingers then laid him flat on his back. He began to press on the little chest, trying to get the water out of his lungs without hurting him. Two, three times he pressed down with no effect, but on the fourth attempt, Thomas jerked, coughed and spewed a gush of water out. Cuthbert turned him gently onto his side and rubbed his back until he coughed another flood of water, then a third. Thomas opened his eyes, looked about him, and began to cry. It was the loveliest sound imaginable and a sigh rose from those clustered about them.

  ‘Quickly, cover him up,’ said Cuthbert. ‘You must get him warm.’

  ‘Bring him to our cottage,’ said a young female voice and Cuthbert looked up to see Jennet bending over him. ‘It’s the nearest and there’s a fire.’ Lord Hesketh pulled off his warm cloak, wrapped his son in it and lifted him into his arms. ‘Show me,’ he said, and followed Jennet off the jetty and along the path to the cottage, followed by a weeping Lady Hesketh, Martha and Betsy.

  ‘That was well done, lad,’ said a quiet voice close to Cuthbert, and a warm cloak was laid around his shaking shoulders. ‘Come, you also must get out of those wet things and get dry and warm.’

  Cuthbert looked up and was astonished to see Lord Derby himself helping him to his feet. He couldn’t reply with words, his teeth were chattering so much with cold and he felt as though his body was full of ice, but he nodded and staggered off the jetty onto dry land. Suddenly he was surrounded by the men from the site, exclaiming what a fool he had been to jump into the water, but what a hero, he could have drowned himself, he could have died.

  ‘Take good care of him,’ said Lord Derby. ‘He risked his life to save the child.’

  ‘We will, my Lord,’ said Abel. ‘We’ll get him somewhere warm, don’t you fret. And thank you for the loan of your cloak. One of us’ll get it back to you afore ye go.’ Lord Derby turned to go but Abel spoke again.

  ‘I’ve been blind, my lord. You sent me the best workman I’ve ever had and I spurned him. Yet despite that he has worked as hard as anyone ever has and done extra at night as well, or so I’m told. Somehow I am going to make it up to him and hope he will forgive me for what I’ve done.’

  Lord Derby looked at the master builder and smiled.

  ‘It was understandable in the circumstances. You lost your wife, you had problems with Lord Hesketh changing your excellent plans, then I go and push an unknown man onto you as well. I’m surprised you didn’t send him away as soon as my back was turned. I am glad you have changed your mind about him. He will be a credit to you.’

  Abel watched him walk away, recognising a true gentleman. What a long way from the gentleman Will thought he was; as different as chalk and cheese they were. He determined that he would sort Will out for once and all. But first he hurried after his workmen as they took Cuthbert to the forge.

  Cuthbert barely heard them as he staggered along, not even sure where he was going. He felt as though he would never ever be warm again. He was numb all over and didn’t even notice that he was barefoot on the frozen ground. They guided him towards the forge where Liliath and Jehan were waiting for him.

  Cuthbert’s fingers refused to function so Jehan quickly stripped him of his clothes, wrapped him in a thick blanket and sat him down near the fire. Liliath wrapped some warm stones from the hearth in a cloth and set them at his feet, then spooned a bowl of broth from the pot on the fire and tried to feed him but Cuthbert’s teeth were chattering so much he could barely open his mouth.

  ‘You must get some warmth into you, you silly man,’ she chided. ‘Going into the water at this time of year is dangerous. Men have died from less.’

  ‘He saved the boy though,’ said Jehan, throwing more wood on the fire.

  ‘Nearly killed himself in the doing of it,’ replied Liliath.

  ‘Is … he … all … right?’ Cuthbert was shaking so much it was difficult to speak.

  ‘He’s alive, thanks to you,’ replied Jacob.

  ‘Try to get some of this down you,’ said Liliath, holding the spoon to his lips and this time Cuthbert managed to swallow a little of the broth. He could feel it go all the way down into his stomach. ‘That’s better. Now, a little more.’

  By the time Cuthbert had finished the bowl he had stopped shaking and was able to look around him.

  ‘Whatever possessed you to get into the water?’ chided Liliath.

  ‘I knew we had to get him out as quickly as possible or he would die of cold if not of drowning.’

  ‘But how did you know what to do?’ asked Jehan.

  ‘When I was a boy in Chester we used to play by the river. One winter there was ice on it and one of my friends dared his brother to walk on it. Of course, he fell through but luckily there was a man nearby who waded in and hauled him out. He pressed on his chest like I did today until the water came out of him, then wrapped him in his cloak and carried him home. It’s funny what you remember.’

  ‘I doubt anyone else would have done it,’ said Liliath. ‘From what I hear they all stood around doing nothing. Trust you to do it.’

  ‘I didn’t really think. If I’d stopped to wait and see if he came up again, I’d never have gone in. Anybody could have done it.’

  ‘The thing is, nobody did.’ Liliath put the bowl and spoon down. ‘You, my lad, are going to bed. Rest is what you need now.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘No buts, you must rest and if you don’t go I’ll give you a sleepi
ng draught to make you, so what is it to be?’

  Jehan and Jacob were laughing quietly as Cuthbert accepted defeat and went to his bed in the room behind the forge. The broth, the warmth and the physical exhaustion soon claimed him.

  It was two hours later when he woke up and realised he was not alone in his room. Jennet was sitting on the stool again.

  ‘I’m making a habit of sitting by your bed,’ she said, smiling. ‘But then, if you will go and do daft things like taking a swim in a freezing lake in winter, what can you expect?’

  ‘How is young Thomas?’ asked Cuthbert, sitting up.

  ‘None the worse for his dip. He’s more upset at losing his fine boots in the mud.’

  ‘Well, I’m not going back to look for them.’

  ‘I think Lord Hesketh would like to see you before they go home,’

  ‘I’d better put some dry clothes on then,’ said Cuthbert, and looked meaningfully towards the door.

  ‘I’ll go and tell them you will be out in a moment then.’

  As soon as she had gone Cuthbert quickly dressed in his best clothes, the only dry ones available and went out in to the forge. Jehan was forming a horseshoe on the anvil, closely watched by young Thomas but as soon as he saw Cuthbert, the child got up and ran to him, apparently none the worse for his ordeal. Dressed in somebody’s tunic which was far too big for him he looked comical, almost tripping over the hem in his haste. This time there was no formal greeting, he flung himself at Cuthbert and wrapped his arms tightly round his legs.

  ‘Thomas!’ admonished his mother.

  ‘It’s all right, my dear,’ said Lord Hesketh. ‘I think on this occasion we can overlook an otherwise unseemly display. Thomas is hailing his hero in the only way he knows at his age.’

  Cuthbert looked down into the adoring eyes of the child. He was more moved than he could say to see him safe and happy. He knelt down on the floor and looked the boy in the eye.

  ‘Will you promise me something?’ he asked.