ginger? Given time to think about it, ginger seemed too harsh a word for a colour that in this soft September light seemed more like … like … honey?
Glancing down, Evi caught sight of her watch. The ten minutes were up. She twisted her arm around so the watch faced downwards and she couldn’t see it any more. ‘What’s with the two churches?’ she asked.
‘They’re great, aren’t they? Like before and after. OK, brace yourself for the history lesson. Back in the days when the great abbeys ruled England, Heptonclough had one of its own. Building work started in 1193. The church behind us was built first and then the living quarters and farm buildings later.’
He spun round on the bench, so that he was facing the ruined building behind them. Evi did the same, although her left leg had started to hurt quite badly. ‘The abbot’s residence is still standing,’ he went on. ‘It’s a beautiful old medieval building. You can’t quite see it from here, it’s on the other side of the new church. A family called Renshaw live in it now.’
Evi was thinking back to school history lessons. ‘So was Henry VIII responsible for the abbey falling into ruins?’ she asked.
The man nodded. ‘Well, he certainly didn’t help,’ he agreed. ‘The last abbot of Heptonclough, Richard Paston, was involved in the rebellion against Henry’s ecclesiastical policies and was tried on a charge of treason.’
‘Executed?’ asked Evi.
‘Not far from this spot. And most of his monks. But the town continued to thrive. In the sixteenth century it was the centre of the South Pennine woollen trade. It had a Cloth Hall, a couple of banks, inns, shops, a grammar school and eventually a new church, built to one side of the old one, because the townsfolk had decided the ruins were rather picturesque.’
‘They still are,’ admitted Evi.
‘Then, some time in the late eighteenth century, Halifax emerged as the new superpower in the wool trade and Heptonclough lost itsplace at the top of the tree. All the old buildings are still here, but they’re mainly private houses now. Most of them owned by the same family.’
‘The new church doesn’t have a tower,’ Evi pointed out. ‘In every other respect it’s like a miniature copy of the old building, but with just those four little towers instead.’
‘The town council ran out of money before the new church could be finished,’ her companion replied. ‘So they built one small tower to house a solitary bell and then, because that looked a bit daft, they built the other three to even up the balance. They’re purely decorative though, you can’t even access them. I think the plan was always to knock them down and build a big one when the money was available, but…’ He shrugged. The money to build a tower had clearly never materialized.
It was no good. Every minute she stayed increased the trouble waiting for her back at the yard. ‘I’m fine now, really,’ she said. ‘And I have to get back. Do you think you could …’
‘Of course.’ He stood up, rather quickly, as though he had, after all, only been being polite. Evi pushed herself up. Once on her feet, her eyes were on the same level as the fair hair peeking out over the neck of his vest.
‘How do you want to do this?’ he asked.
She tilted her head back to look at him properly and thought that she really wouldn’t mind being carried back down the hill again. A stab of pain ran down the back of her thigh. ‘May I take your arm?’ she said.
He held out his right elbow and, like a courting couple from the old days, they walked down the hill. Even with streams of fire running down her left leg they reached Duchess far too quickly.
‘Hi Harry,’ said a small voice. ‘Whose horse is this?’
‘This noble steed belongs to the beautiful Princess Berengaria who is riding back now to her castle on the hill,’ said the man who answered to the name of Harry, and who seemed to be looking at someone on the
Glancing down, Evi caught sight of her watch. The ten minutes were up. She twisted her arm around so the watch faced downwards and she couldn’t see it any more. ‘What’s with the two churches?’ she asked.
‘They’re great, aren’t they? Like before and after. OK, brace yourself for the history lesson. Back in the days when the great abbeys ruled England, Heptonclough had one of its own. Building work started in 1193. The church behind us was built first and then the living quarters and farm buildings later.’
He spun round on the bench, so that he was facing the ruined building behind them. Evi did the same, although her left leg had started to hurt quite badly. ‘The abbot’s residence is still standing,’ he went on. ‘It’s a beautiful old medieval building. You can’t quite see it from here, it’s on the other side of the new church. A family called Renshaw live in it now.’
Evi was thinking back to school history lessons. ‘So was Henry VIII responsible for the abbey falling into ruins?’ she asked.
The man nodded. ‘Well, he certainly didn’t help,’ he agreed. ‘The last abbot of Heptonclough, Richard Paston, was involved in the rebellion against Henry’s ecclesiastical policies and was tried on a charge of treason.’
‘Executed?’ asked Evi.
‘Not far from this spot. And most of his monks. But the town continued to thrive. In the sixteenth century it was the centre of the South Pennine woollen trade. It had a Cloth Hall, a couple of banks, inns, shops, a grammar school and eventually a new church, built to one side of the old one, because the townsfolk had decided the ruins were rather picturesque.’
‘They still are,’ admitted Evi.
‘Then, some time in the late eighteenth century, Halifax emerged as the new superpower in the wool trade and Heptonclough lost itsplace at the top of the tree. All the old buildings are still here, but they’re mainly private houses now. Most of them owned by the same family.’
‘The new church doesn’t have a tower,’ Evi pointed out. ‘In every other respect it’s like a miniature copy of the old building, but with just those four little towers instead.’
‘The town council ran out of money before the new church could be finished,’ her companion replied. ‘So they built one small tower to house a solitary bell and then, because that looked a bit daft, they built the other three to even up the balance. They’re purely decorative though, you can’t even access them. I think the plan was always to knock them down and build a big one when the money was available, but…’ He shrugged. The money to build a tower had clearly never materialized.
It was no good. Every minute she stayed increased the trouble waiting for her back at the yard. ‘I’m fine now, really,’ she said. ‘And I have to get back. Do you think you could …’
‘Of course.’ He stood up, rather quickly, as though he had, after all, only been being polite. Evi pushed herself up. Once on her feet, her eyes were on the same level as the fair hair peeking out over the neck of his vest.
‘How do you want to do this?’ he asked.
She tilted her head back to look at him properly and thought that she really wouldn’t mind being carried back down the hill again. A stab of pain ran down the back of her thigh. ‘May I take your arm?’ she said.
He held out his right elbow and, like a courting couple from the old days, they walked down the hill. Even with streams of fire running down her left leg they reached Duchess far too quickly.
‘Hi Harry,’ said a small voice. ‘Whose horse is this?’
‘This noble steed belongs to the beautiful Princess Berengaria who is riding back now to her castle on the hill,’ said the man who answered to the name of Harry, and who seemed to be looking at someone on the
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