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Derek's Writing Page Fishing History Short stories Children's Novels |
I found the stones. The rest is imagination. Time."A bit o' the lower bed." "Not the middle? That's freer." "No, the lower." "If that's what you want Tom." The quarrymaster thought a moment. "It's time then is it?" "It's time." The next day the new slab rested on the bank and Tom Chappel set to work. Rough dressing was over in an hour and he took his straightedge and began grinding then polishing. Hard monotonous work allows thinking time but the sort of thinking Tom needed was not compatible with fine craftsmanship and Tom was a fine craftsman. A Master Mason does not usually dress his own stone but no one else would touch this work. Tom had breathed stone for over twelve years now and his work graced many a cathedral and many a palace. More important to Tom his work was in the Parish Church as well. Only the finest stone went into the quarrymen's own church and only the finest work was good enough for their god. This work was to be finer than that. In a day he had a silk smooth slab and took himself home satisfied enough. Betimes he left the house, cold now with no fire needed through the day and took to the bank again. Tom was no sculptor so he turned to compass and square. Geometry and perfect stone would serve. Simplicity has it's own beauty. A cross within a circle, just a finger wide through stone a hand thick, that was the essence. Careful piercing and lining, more polishing and another day done. The house was silent. No voice, no cooking smells, no little sounds and all as he had left it. On the third day he laid out and cut the inscription. On the fourth he carried the stone to the churchyard and erected it. IN MEMORY OF JANE CHAPPEL There was no space for himself, he would not die here as all his hopes and dreams had died. A little way north was another stone. Nearly three hundred years old it was and yet it looked as if it had left the chisel yesterday. Fine, long lasting stone was the lower bed. Tom's workmanship was better, no need for false modesty here. Jane would be remembered. On the fifth day he grieved and on the sixth he left. Derek Moody 1999 |