The Rufford Rose Page 8

  ‘Don’t take no notice of that. Abel is, or was, a first class master builder but since his wife died he’s become a crusty old devil. His tongue can be sharp and he doesn’t like change, new ideas. His ways are tried and tested and he sees no need to alter them. I hear he put up a right stink about that chimney. I’ve heard it’s the latest method and it works well but Abel won’t have it. You just put your head down and get on with your job. It may take a while but Abel will come round. Eventually.’

  They turned into the area where the new house was gradually taking shape. Great stone blocks marked the foundations of the building, stone brought on heavy carts pulled by six horses from quarries the family owned not far away. Cut and shaped by a team of stonemasons they were mostly in position and the carpenters had almost completed the walls. The good oak wood from family estates had been felled, cut to size then brought to the building site. Sections of wall were put together on the ground, all the mortice and tenon joints cut exactly to fit, then, when it was ready, each section was hauled upright by rope and tackle and fastened in place on the top of the stone foundations, propped up by great beams until the various sections were secured by cross ties. All the gaps between the timbers were filled with wattle made from willow from trees by the Mere and then covered with daub, a mixture of mud, and horse hair and straw. Most of that was now drying in the sun, great gaps still showing where windows would be inserted, and doors fitted. The foundations had looked big but now that there were walls arising from them it looked even bigger. The central block, the Great Hall, was a lofty building and the wings set at right angles across each end more than doubled the size of the house. Men were busy all over the site, dozens of them, like ants around an ant hill. It looked chaotic but Cuthbert knew that each and every one of them had a specific job to do and was fitting the whole place together. He gathered that many of the men had worked with Abel for years but there were also many local men, valuable because of their local knowledge of the land and the resources they needed. Although the ground was very flat and there was an extremely large Mere very close to the house, Cuthbert had been reassured that the actual site of the building was a few feet higher than its surroundings, a few feet that made all the difference to avoiding flooding.

  They were passing close to the Mere when a figure suddenly emerged from the undergrowth, startling the horse. Ezekial pulled on the reins, bringing the animal under control again before cursing the boy soundly.

  ‘Don’t you ever learn? How many times have I told you, Will, not to jump out near the horses?’ he shouted. ‘He could have bolted or overturned the cart, you stupid idiot.’

  ‘Well it didn’t, did it?’ replied Will cheekily. ‘Besides I wanted to warn Cuthbert that Abel is angry with him for taking so long. Sends you on a simple task and you take all day. We’re waiting for that wood.’

  ‘I would have been a lot quicker if you had given me the right directions,’ hissed Cuthbert through clenched teeth. He felt Ezekial’s hand on his arm and refrained from saying anything else.

  ‘We’re here now and that’s what matters. If you get out of the way we can deliver this load all the quicker,’ said Ezekial.

  ‘I’ll jump on the back for the rest of the way,’ said Will, moving towards the rear of the cart.

  ‘No, you won’t,’ retorted Ezekial, shaking the reins to move the horse along. Will stepped back hurriedly as the cart almost ran over his foot and when Cuthbert glanced back the boy was making a very rude gesture in their direction.

  ‘Didn’t like that,’ he murmured. ‘He doesn’t like you, does he?’

  ‘The feeling is mutual. Will is an idle, lying, cheat, always trying to impress Abel, expecting to inherit his business when Abel dies. I’ve yet to see him put in a full day’s work but whenever Abel needs him he’s there, toadying up to him, his “Master”, trying to keep in his favour. I’ve no time for lads like him.’ He glanced across at Cuthbert. ‘Don’t let him annoy you. He’s only trying to anger you so that Abel will think even less of you if you retaliate.’

  ‘He’s doing a good job at that. I’ve never worked with someone who constantly taunts me, tries to make me make mistakes, petty little things but irritating.’

  ‘You keep on as you’re doing. Abel knows he can’t dismiss you, not when Lord Derby himself sent you over. Even Abel daren’t go against his orders.’ He smiled at Cuthbert. ‘Your day will come. We are all waiting to see your work when the house gets to that stage. It’s your carving that has brought you here.’

  ‘How did you know that?’ exclaimed Cuthbert.

  Ezekial laughed.

  ‘I know a man who knows a man who works for Lord Derby. He saw your work at Whalley Abbey and never stopped talking about it. We expect great things of you Cuthbert.’

  Cuthbert was dumbfounded. Had they really been talking about him in such a way? He thought he had come as a general carpenter with the possibility of doing some special work maybe, but not that his carving was the main reason. He was silent the rest of the way.

  Ezekial drew up close to the wood stack for the builders and jumped down to start unloading.

  ‘About time too,’ yelled Abel striding towards them. ‘Glad you could make it today. Not interrupted anything important, I hope.’ He marched right up to Cuthbert and glared into his face. ‘When I send someone to do a simple job I expect them to do it, immediately, not when you feel like it. Now get this lot unloaded.’ With a sneer of contempt he turned on his heels and marched away. Cuthbert saw Will sniggering by the wood saw and felt like punching him but he took a deep breath and turned to unload.

  ‘Well done, lad. Ignore him,’ muttered Ezekial, as they lifted the beams of wood off the back of the cart. ‘Your time will come and you can put Master Will in his place.’

  Cuthbert heeded the good advice but Will was like an annoying insect always buzzing around him, sneering at him, laughing behind his back, making comments to the other men on the site. Most of them ignored him, they knew Will for what he really was and he had few real friends though he liked to make out he was everyone’s good friend. He was tolerated, that was all. Everyone was too busy to take much notice, until the day his pranks nearly caused a nasty accident.

  A group of the carpenters were fixing some of the crossbeams for the roof of one of the wings of the house. The wood had been cut to size on the ground and several of them were manoeuvring the longest beam into position. They had rigged a pulley system to lift it and several of the men, including Cuthbert were up tall ladders waiting to catch the ends and get it into the right place atop the walls. It was a difficult job as both ends needed to be in the correct position and at the right angle across the space. A little bit out of line and the ends would not meet up with the holes already cut to receive them. All of them, including Cuthbert, had done this many times before on this and other buildings and knew it took patience to get it right. Once the roof was on it could not be changed if it was found to be wrong without dismantling a major part of their work.

  As the beam was inched towards its place by the men on the pulley below and guided by those above, all eyes were directed upwards, with quiet instructions from those at each end to, ‘Move it a bit this way,’ or ‘a bit more,’ or ‘up again’. There was a certain tension in the air. Cuthbert was at the top of the east wall, holding the ladder with one hand and reaching towards the beam as it was swung his way, ready to guide it into place. Suddenly he felt the ladder move, only slightly, but enough to unnerve him and he grabbed the top rung with his free hand to steady himself. The approaching beam swung towards him and caught his elbow a painful blow. Stifling a cry of pain, he reached out again and pulled the end of the wood towards the wall, just managing to connect it with the horizontal beam, pushing it into place and quickly inserting a wooden peg from the bag attached to his belt, then hammering it into place with the mallet dangling from his belt. He glanced across to the other side of the room and saw that the man over there had also secured his end. The rope fasten
ed round the beam was pulled free and fell back to the ground. Cuthbert watched it fall and out of the corner of his eye saw Will moving away from the foot of the ladder Cuthbert was standing on. What was he doing there? He was supposed to be over in the other wing helping with hanging one of the big doors, at least, that was what Cuthbert had overheard Abel telling him to do, so why was he here, in the opposite wing?

  He descended to the floor and, feeling slightly sick, sat down on a pile of wood by the wall.

  ‘Only another six of them to put up today,’ declared Thomas, the man who had fixed the opposite end of the beam to Cuthbert. ‘Hey, are you all right? You are as white as a ghost? Not got a head for heights?’

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ Cuthbert assured him. ‘Just took a knock on my elbow up there. Hurts a bit.’

  ‘Let me look,’ said Thomas, squatting down beside him. Cuthbert pulled his sleeve up. Blood was beginning to ooze from a cut right on the end of his elbow but not enough to warrant the severity of the pain he was feeling.

  ‘Not too bad, you’ll live but that’s going to be a colourful show by tomorrow and a bit stiff for a while. Odd things, elbows, the slightest knock can hurt like hell. Feel a bit queasy?’

  Cuthbert nodded.

  ‘Best not go up the ladder for a bit. Don’t worry, I can get someone else, plenty of us around,’ he grinned. He called to Ezekial who had just come in to see what wood was needed for the next day. ‘Ezekial! Liliath will be able to see to Cuthbert here, won’t he? He’s taken a bang on the elbow.’

  ‘Yes, she will,’ replied the woodman. ‘Works wonders she does. Go and see her later.’

  ‘Where will I find her?’

  ‘Wife of the blacksmith, good with healing balms and such like. Her mother was a healer where she came from. She’s good with cuts and bruises, she’ll put something soothing on it, take the ache away and bring the bruise out. Seen her works wonders with injuries. Many of us here have had Liliath’s cures for one thing and another. See her, at the forge, tonight.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Cuthbert, as the two men stood up and walked away. He flexed his elbow and the pain shot up his arm, making him wince, and he hugged the arm to him, waiting for the sick feeling to go.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Abel was standing in the doorway of the building, his eyes fixed on Cuthbert. ‘No time for sitting about, there’s work to do. Get up and help the men. I want all those roofbeams in place by nightfall.’ With a disdainful sneer he walked away, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

  Cuthbert got to his feet and went over to the ladder he had been up. He knew he had set it in place safely, both feet squarely on the ground, as he always did. It was not like that now. Marks in the earth showed that it had been moved sideways a couple of inches, not much, but enough to make it unstable. Whoever had done it would have had to give it a kick to move it. Was that what Will was doing in here? When everyone’s attention was concentrated upwards? If that was the case, he was a complete idiot. If Cuthbert had fallen from the ladder he would have been seriously injured, if not killed. Goodness me, he only had to think back to that awful day in Chester when Jethro had fallen from the ladder. He shuddered at the thought. Dare he accuse Will of what he suspected? If no one else had seen him, what proof did he have? In future he would be more careful. Rubbing his elbow he went back to work, using the arm gingerly but managing to complete his day’s work.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The men had finished their work for the day, all the beams had been put in place as Abel had ordered and they dispersed to the huts where they were living temporarily during the building. The smell of food cooking pervaded the air and Cuthbert’s stomach rumbled. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until now and looked forward to eating. Some of the men had their wives with them and they managed to produce good food for their menfolk. It was understood that if the men were well fed they worked better so many owners made sure that there were adequate provisions for the workforce. It was usually a wholesome meal of vegetables with some meat and a rich gravy, served with hunks of fresh baked bread. Filling and satisfying after a hard day’s work.

  Afterwards many of the men went to their beds, tired out after their labours. Some sat outside in the late evening enjoying a drink and a talk. The village brewer provided some good ale for a price and Cuthbert usually joined them but tonight he wandered towards the village to see the blacksmith’s wife.

  The village of Rufford was small but it had its own blacksmith by the road to Ormskirk. Cuthbert had been past a number of times and the blacksmith always seemed to be busy about the forge. Since the start of the building of the hall his work had doubled, mending broken tools, sharpening blades, making the hinges for the doors and gates that would be needed as well as his task of shoeing the numerous horses used to transport all the building materials. He had even heard that Lord Derby himself had had to stop for him to attend to his fine horse which had cast a shoe on the road.

  Although it was fairly late in the day Cuthbert could hear the ring of metal on metal as the smith worked on something beside the great fire burning in the forge. Another man was pumping the bellows, a smaller version of the smith and Cuthbert wondered whether they were related. He stood and watched as the sparks flew from the anvil as he worked a long piece of metal into shape. Only when he plunged it into a bucket full of water at his side, causing a cloud of steam to rise up around him did the smith look up.

  ‘Looking for me?’ he asked, wiping a brawny arm across his brow.

  ‘No, I was looking for your wife,’ replied Cuthbert. ‘I’ve been told she has some healing knowledge.’

  ‘Aye, that she has,’ was the answer. ‘Are you from the building? Got hurt have you?’

  ‘Yes, just a bad knock on the elbow,’ said Cuthbert. ‘Ezekial said she could ease it for me.’

  ‘Ezekial sent you, did he?’ He’s the wife’s cousin. Sends everyone to her, does Ezekial.’ He grinned, lifted his lump of metal from the bucket and examined it before plunging it back into the fire. ‘Jacob, go and get Liliath. Tell her someone needs her.’ The young man who had been pumping the bellows went off round the back of the building. ‘My little brother,’ explained the smith. ‘I’m Jehan, Jacob helps me, especially with the horses. He’s good with horses, is Jacob. They trust him.’ He turned his metal bar over in the fire and turned back to Cuthbert. ‘Building going all right? Haven’t had time to walk up and look at it this week.’

  ‘Yes, it’s coming on well. Abel wants the roof on before it rains, then we can at least work under cover.’

  ‘Very wise. Ah, here’s Liliath. Liliath my dear, another injury for you. You go inside with her, she’ll sort you out.’ Jehan placed the glowing metal bar on the anvil and began hammering it again as Jacob resumed his position by the bellows.

  Cuthbert followed Liliath to the little cottage behind the forge, bending low to enter the doorway. Inside was a basic but comfortable room, a fire burning in a brazier and a table and chairs set near the window. Shelves held various pots and pans and at the back another held an array of bottles and jars, evidently the tools of her healing. Bunches of herbs hung from the roofbeams, drying and there was a delicious smell coming from a large pot suspended over the fire. She gestured to a stool by the table and Cuthbert sat down.

  Cuthbert had watched her as she walked in front of him to the cottage and noticed how slender she was, with a thick dark braid of hair hanging below her waist. Her simple dress emphasised her tiny waist. She looked quite a bit younger than her husband and when she finally turned towards him she gave him a beautiful smile that lit up her face.

  ‘Jacob tells me you have been injured at the hall,’ she said quietly, in an accent he couldn’t quite place, but very different to her husband’s, and he wondered where she came from.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘I got hit on the elbow by a swinging beam. I don’t think anything is broken but it’s very sore and stiff.’

  ‘Let me see,’ she said, and t
ook hold of his left arm as he held it out to her. Her hands were warm and surprisingly soft as she rolled his sleeve up above the elbow. The material had stuck to the wound and she peeled it gently away, causing the blood to start to flow again. She touched the area gently and felt Cuthbert tense. ‘Is that where it hit you?’

  Cuthbert nodded. Liliath went to the fire and poured some water out of a kettle hanging near it into a bowl. She placed this on the table and went to the shelf of bottles, taking down an earthenware jar stoppered with a wooden peg and a piece of cloth. She poured a small amount into the water, took a piece of cloth out of a basket and dipped it into the water. Holding Cuthbert’s hand she turned his arm so that she could clearly see the cut and touched it with the cloth. Cuthbert winced as it stung and bit his lip. Liliath looked up at him.

  ‘It will sting but this will stop it going bad.’ She dabbed at the cut until she was satisfied it was clean, then dried it on the other end of the cloth. With gentle fingers she prodded round his elbow, finding the most tender spots whilst Cuthbert flinched at the pressure.

  ‘This will be sore for a few days but I don’t think there is too much damage. By tomorrow it will be every colour of the rainbow. I can give you some salve which will numb the pain but try not to knock it if you can.’ From the shelf she took down another small jar and handed it to him. ‘I’ll put some on now, you do the same tonight and tomorrow morning. By the end of the week you will hardly know it’s there.’ Once again Cuthbert was struck by how incredibly gentle her touch was as she smeared his arm with the fragrant salve and pulled his sleeve back down.

  ‘There. All done. Try not to bang it for a while, it’ll be tender but it’ll heal.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Cuthbert, ‘It feels easier already.’

  As he walked back out to the lane he passed the forge where the smith was still working.

  ‘Has she sorted you out?’ he called. ‘Good woman, is Liliath. The best wife a man could have.’ He turned back to the forge and Cuthbert regained the track leading to his lodging near the site. He felt a lot more comfortable now and just hoped that Will wouldn’t try any more of his tricks on him. A suspicion was not evidence Will was involved but Cuthbert would watch him more closely.