The Rufford Rose Read online

  ‘Watch it!’ cried the man at the top who was fixing the final pieces, then apologised when he saw who it was.

  ‘I’m coming up there,’ called Abel, and began to clamber up the structure. At one time he would have swung his way aloft easily but he was feeling his age and took greater care where he put his feet as he ascended. He was surprised when he reached the top to find he was out of breath.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ asked Thomas, the man who had shouted down.

  ‘No, no, I just wanted to see this wall closer up.’

  Thomas followed his gaze.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’

  ‘No, far from it. I’ve had an idea. Thomas, you worked on that Hall over in Yorkshire five or six years ago. Do you remember the canopy we built that protruded over the principle table? Do you think it would work here?’

  Thomas surveyed the wall.

  ‘It would but I’m not sure how we could marry it with the side walls which are complete. It could look a bit, well, unplanned, if it doesn’t match up properly.’

  ‘Mmm,’ mused Abel, ‘I see what you mean. Let me get the plans out and see whether it’s possible. We could maybe adapt the corners somehow, add some decoration to hide the join. I’ll have a look later.’ He looked along the length of the hall from his vantage point. ‘Not bad, is it?’ he commented. ‘Get a whole different perspective from up here.’ He looked down. ‘Funny how it feels a lot higher from up here than when you look up at it from the floor.’

  ‘It’s still a long way to fall,’ said Thomas, drily. ‘Men have died from less of a fall than from here. We’ve been lucky with this one. Apart from a few cuts and bruises there have been remarkably few injuries and no broken bones.’

  ‘Yet,’ said Abel, then smiled at Thomas’s face. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not planning to push you off. I’d better get down, let you finish.’

  Climbing down was a lot easier than the climb up had been but he was glad to get his feet back on firm ground. He went through one of the doors into the west wing and up the staircase to the first floor. In one of the bedrooms he found himself at the other side of the wall he had been looking at from the Great Hall. The wall was panelled in fine oak, fairly plain at this stage, the beautiful natural grain of the wood clearly visible. He ran his fingers over it. He loved the feel and smell of beautifully worked timber, the perfection of joints and corners when worked by a master craftsman, no gaps or rough edges to catch. He was immensely proud of the workmanship throughout the house. He always insisted on the best. That was the way to keep good customers. If Lord Hesketh ever wanted any further work done here he would ask for him to do it, relying on a craftsman he knew. He in turn would recommend him to friends who might need a master carpenter. It was the way it worked, how one job led to another, on recommendation.

  He tapped the panels. They sounded solid enough for his purpose and they should be strong enough to support the weight of a false wall, which would be needed to carry the hanging canopy on the other side. He would need to attach some horizontal beams from the upper part of the wall on the hall side then curve panels down to the top of the wall below. It was tricky work but not impossible. He would look carefully at the original plans to see whether it could be done and he must put his suggestion to Lord Hesketh next time he visited them. His lordship had made alterations already so he may be agreeable to something his master builder suggested. It made Abel smile that he was actually thinking this way when he had been so opposed to new ideas a few months ago. But then, he had had the weight of responsibility and guilt associated with Will, and that was all changed. He actually found himself smiling, something he had rarely done since Dora’s death. Yes, he was well rid of him.

  ***

  Will rolled out of the bed, sat on the edge and rubbed his face with rough, none too clean hands. He blinked tired eyes and yawned. Squinting towards the grimy window he rubbed his eyes, wondering why everything was blurry then realised it wasn’t his eyes or the dirty window but thick mist outside. Even though it was daylight it was gloomy and he had no idea what time of day it was. How long had he been here? What day was it? The last thing he could remember was staggering along the track from the inn on the road south of the village of Ormskirk. He had drunk far too much and the road seemed to undulate beneath his feet. He couldn’t walk in a straight line but he must try to get back to the cottage he was sharing with his very obliging widow woman, a very obliging woman indeed who had fallen for his hard luck story and agreed to let him stay until he sorted himself out. His hard luck tale of a lost job as a master carpenter had been convincing enough for the gullible woman to be taken in. She saw a young man, down on his luck through no fault of his own who needed somewhere to stay. Perhaps she was lonely too and fancied the company of a not bad looking young man.

  The walk back had been longer than he remembered but as he tripped several times it was hardly surprising it seemed further. Picking himself up for the fourth time he had tried to stand upright only to roll over again and ended up in the ditch at the side of the road which fortunately was dry. It was such an effort to get up that he had curled up and may have dozed off for a while. Sometime later he had woken with an unsettling feeling in his stomach, got to his knees and heaved a stomach full of ale out of him before crawling back onto the track. This time he managed to get onto his feet and stay on them as he completed the journey back to the cottage. The widow woman had commiserated with him and tucked him up in bed to sleep it off. Poor boy, she thought, drowning his sorrows in alcohol. Best to let him sleep.

  Will went into the other room but she was nowhere to be seen. There was a pot of something hanging over the fire and he spooned a bowl full of it onto a dish. It was a tasty broth of some sort, full of vegetables and settled his stomach. He went to the door and looked out, surprised that he could barely see across the road. Well, he would stay here, no point wandering about in this weather. Perhaps tomorrow, when it had cleared he would make another visit to Rufford and see what mischief he could do there. He went and sat in a wooden chair by the fire as he planned his next move.

  It was time that he did some more damage to their precious house he decided, damage that could not be repaired as easily as a few broken windows and carvings. Fire would be good. A wooden building would burn beautifully. There was plenty of material to use as tinder, heaps of sawdust, small off cuts from the work. If he piled it around the main door to the Great Hall it would spread quickly before anyone could stop it. Yes, a fire would be his next move.

  ***

  ‘Will this fog never lift?’ complained Alfric. ‘I’m tired of never being dry.’

  ‘Even a fire doesn’t seem to warm anything,’ said Ben, moving his stool closer to the fire in the lodgings they shared. Work had finished early today as the cold and damp had seeped into everyone’s bones and they had dispersed to their various lodgings for the night. Only Abel and Cuthbert were still working in the woodshed, Abel constructing the base of the screen and Cuthbert carving his rose. Both were near to completion and, although the room was cold they were warm with their work.

  ‘How much longer do you think we’ll be?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Before the house is finished? Not long, though Abel has some idea of building a canopy over the table at the west end of the Hall, or so Thomas tells me,.’ said Alfric.

  ‘A canopy? How will that fit. We’ve already finished the walls.’

  ‘Thomas and Abel built one at another house a few years ago. They think it will work.’

  ‘I thought Abel didn’t like changes to his plans.’

  ‘He’s changed, ever since Will left. He’s changed his attitude to Cuthbert too.’

  ‘About time he did. Cuthbert’s a fine lad. I can’t help liking him and I’ve never seen carving like it. I wish mine was half as good. He seems to put life into every piece he does. I can carve but not like that. He not only had a good master to teach him but he has a rare talent. I’m sure he sees what he wants to do in the
wood before he’s even started to work it.’

  ‘My grandfather could do that but he didn’t pass it down to my father or to me,’ said Alfric, ruefully, reaching for another hunk of the bread they had had with their meal. He chewed on it thoughtfully for a while. ‘Some would say it is God-given to have a talent like that.’

  ‘He worked at Whalley Abbey before he came here so perhaps that’s true.’ Ben stretched and yawned. ‘I’m going to bed. Perhaps we’ll get an earlier start tomorrow if this mist clears overnight.’

  Next morning was a good deal better. A light wind had blown up during the night, clearing the mist and allowing a little watery sunshine to come through the scudding clouds. There was still no warmth in the sun but at least they could see once again. Despite the cold there was a much lighter atmosphere as work began and after the several gloomy days it was nice to be able to see clearly. Abel and Thomas pored over the plans and decided they could make a canopy in the Great Hall after all.

  ‘Perhaps we could decorate the squares on it with paintings of those family crests which were too complex to carve,’ suggested Thomas. ‘There will be plenty of room for more as well if Lord Hesketh wishes.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Abel and noted it down on the plan. ‘Must finish the screen as well. Next time we have a visit I want to be able to show how much more we have done since they last came.’ All this planning had reinvigorated everyone and someone was even whistling as they worked. What a difference a little winter sunshine could make.

  ***

  Will watched from the shelter of the trees by the Mere. Everyone looked very busy and no one saw him as he moved towards his den amongst the undergrowth where he planned to wait until nightfall before putting an end to all their good work. He had to stifle a laugh as he thought of what tomorrow would be like with the whole building lying in ashes. He crawled inside the den and was pleased to see it was still largely intact. He would have a cold wait but he had brought some cold meat and bread and had his warm cloak to wrap himself in. Now all he needed was darkness to put his plan into action.

  The short day passed quickly and soon everyone was going back to their lodgings for a meal and a rest. It would still be some hours before they slept but Will crept out to explore his old work place. He knew every track and building, where everyone lived, where wood was stored, where the tools were kept. He got into the woodshed through a loosely shuttered window and felt his way around until he found a lanthorn which he lit and shaded just in case anyone went by. He saw the panels for the screen, the mighty side posts and the hefty base. On a table he found the carvings for the roof bosses and guessed which one was Cuthbert’s work. He was tempted to destroy it but he didn’t want to risk someone hearing him break it up if they passed too close. After all, it wouldn’t be needed at all if the Hall was burned to the ground.

  A pile of wood shavings had been swept into a corner and he filled an empty sack with as much as he could manage. There were plenty of bits of waste lying around and he gathered a bundle ready to carry to the Hall. There was so much that he wondered whether he should set several fires all around the hall to be sure. There would be plenty of time, all night in fact. He was finding this all rather exciting and had to suppress his eagerness to start straight away. No, he must wait until at least midnight. With several bundles prepared he went out again to look round the building and decide where to set each fire.

  The patrolling of the building still continued with Ben and Tom preparing to do it tonight. Wrapped in their warmest clothes they crept out and began to walk round the building, looking out for Will who had still not been seen anywhere near Rufford. Neither of them noticed him as he lay along the ground in the darkest shadow of the east wing but he saw them and realised that he must be very careful where he set the fires. He did not want them to see the piles before he had time to light them. As far as he was concerned it added a further risk but one in which he revelled. To cheat them even when they were clearly looking for him added to the victory he confidently expected. So sure was he that he could not see any possibility of failure. It was going to be a game of whether the cat could catch the mouse before the mouse caught the cat out and a thrill ran through his body as he crept round the corner of the building to build his first pile.

  Ben and Tom separated and began to walk in opposite directions around the whole building. They confidently thought that it was the house that would be attacked and did not therefore include the woodshed and other separate buildings in their patrol. A watching Will realised their mistake and timed his return to the woodshed for more fuel very carefully. There were only minutes when neither Ben nor Tom could see the shed but it was time enough for Will to enter, take another load of wood chippings and get out again. There were many dark corners and deep shadows to hide in whilst they passed and he had to stifle the desire to laugh at their stupidity. Perhaps they had become lax because he had not been seen for so long but it only boosted his confidence.

  Soon he had piles ready to light in six places around the house. Ideally he would like to light them all at once but knew that was impossible. He decided to light two round the east wing and whilst they were dealing with those he could light the four he had placed round the Great Hall and west wing. He crept back to the east wing and waited. He let both the guards pass him twice so that he could judge the time he had when they were away from him, then, approached the first pile near the door to the scullery. His tinderbox struck a spark at the first attempt and he carefully nurtured it in the wood shavings until it was blazing beautifully. He fed it with some bigger pieces until it took hold properly then went to the pile on the other side of the building. This took a little longer as a breeze kept blowing his flame out but at last it caught and he fanned it into a blaze and crept into the shadows of the trees to watch.

  Tom first realised something was wrong when he caught a whiff of smoke as he rounded the corner and immediately saw the small fire developing against the wall.

  ‘Fire!’ he yelled as loudly as he could. ‘Fire! Fire! Fire!’ He rushed to the blaze and tried to stamp it out, still yelling fire at the top of his voice. Ben came rushing round the corner and spotted the second smaller blaze near the scullery door. He joined voices with Tom as the two of them stamped and kicked at the fire, trying to get it away from the building. It felt like ages but was only a matter of minutes before sleepy men came running, half-dressed, roused from their beds.

  ‘Get the buckets!’ yelled one.

  ‘Form a chain from the Mere,’ cried another. Rushing for buckets from the kitchen area they ran back and forth with water, dousing the flames and the walls which were threatened.

  Will watched all the activity with glee then, keeping to the shadows, he worked his way round to the Great Hall and began his trail of destruction there too. By this time virtually the whole workforce were rushing around dealing with the other fires and Cuthbert came running with Jehan and Jacob from the forge. Quickly they joined the other men and it was out of the corner of his eye that Cuthbert saw a movement near the Great Hall as a fresh fire blazed up there too.

  ‘Quickly, to the Hall’ he yelled, racing across with more buckets. To his horror as he turned the corner there were two more fires just getting going. ‘Here, round here,’ he cried as he was joined by half a dozen men, some with buckets, others trying to drag the burning timbers away from the building. Cuthbert dashed across to the Mere, which was only yards away, with two buckets and as he turned he saw a figure run from the far side of the Hall, a figure he recognised immediately.

  ‘He’s there, over there,’ he shouted, pointing, and several men clearly saw Will outlined by the flames, running away down the track towards the woods.

  ‘After him,’ shouted Jacob, and set off in pursuit but Will was too far ahead and he knew the woods like the back of his hand having spent so many hours hiding there to avoid work. They soon realised they had lost him and turned back to help. At least they had proof of his presence this time.

&n
bsp; The fires were soon out but some damage had been done. As the men stood around panting from the exertion, Abel and Thomas made a quick inspection of the buildings.

  ‘Can’t do much until daylight,’ said Abel, ‘but we were lucky. It could have gone up like a torch and been lost. Thank you, every one of you. Now get back to your beds. You will need all your strength in the morning to make repairs. Some of us will stay to keep watch till morning. Now go.’

  Slowly the men drifted away leaving Abel with Cuthbert, Jehan, Jacob, Thomas, Ben and Tom. The latter two were devastated.

  ‘We never saw him,’ said Tom. ‘Never heard a thing.’

  ‘He must have laid these fires whilst we were out of sight,’ said Ben. ‘But where’s he got the stuff from?’

  ‘There’s a window shutter open in the woodshed,’ said Jehan. ‘I’ve just checked. He must have got tinder and shavings from there.’

  ‘He’s not done any damage inside, has he?’ asked Abel anxiously, thinking of the carvings laid out on tables.

  ‘Not as far as I could see. He’s concentrated on destroying the house.’

  ‘At least one good thing has come of this,’ said Thomas.

  ‘Good? What’s good about trying to burn the place down?’ exclaimed Abel.

  ‘Some of us saw him and it was definitely Will so we know he is still around and our guarding the place isn’t a waste of time. I guess he’s been letting us think he had gone away and therefore we weren’t as vigilant as we were.’

  ‘Wait till I get my hands on him,’ growled Abel. ‘I’ll …’