There was a long silence as the nuns contemplated the disastrous end to what had begun with such promise and joy.
Sister Marie broke the silence at last. “Try not to judge our abbess too harshly. Your mother sought shelter at just the wrong time. You see, the bishop was here on a surprise visit. As you might have gathered, our previous abbess was somewhat lax. He came to make sure that we were now scrupulous about obeying the Rule.”
“Even if it was at the expense of Christian kindness and charity.” Sister Amice observed.
The nun reminded Janna of her friend Agnes, the lay sister whose clear idea of right and wrong had sometimes been at odds with how life was conducted at Wiltune Abbey. They would have got on well together, she thought.
“He certainly did his best to catch us out in wrongdoing or laxness of any sort,” Sister Marie agreed. “He was particularly meticulous and careful in his catechizing. Each and every one of us was interrogated separately, and punished severely for even the slightest of misdemeanors or imaginary sins.”
“So you can imagine how difficult it would have been for the abbess to explain a pregnant infirmarian in our midst,” Sister Amice interrupted once more.
“And so your mother was castigated and sent immediately on her way in disgrace,” Sister Marie continued. “If the bishop was impressed by our abbess’s strict discipline, we never heard of it, but the rest of us were outraged by the treatment meted out to your mother, and we told the abbess so in no uncertain terms.”
“After the bishop had left,” Sister Amice interposed.
“By which time your mother had vanished, and it was too late to make amends.” Sister Marie pressed Janna’s hand. “Now that I’ve met you, I regret our cowardice even more,” she said softly. “After the kind and loving service your mother gave us, we should all have stood behind her and insisted that the abbess offer her shelter, at least until her time was come and you were born.” She released Janna’s hand and stood up, indicating that their meeting was over. “I shall raise the matter in chapter tomorrow,” she promised.
“My mother’s dead. Even if you shame the abbess, it’s too late, now, to make amends.”
“I shall pray for her soul.”
“As shall I,” said Sister Amice.
“She’ll need your prayers,” Janna said, her voice suddenly rough with fury. “Our village priest refused to bury her, and so she lies in unhallowed ground in an unmarked grave at Berford.”
“But…why unhallowed?”
“After you turned her away, and after the treatment she received from the abbess of Wiltune, she turned her back on the Church.” Let them understand how their lack of kindness had affected Eadgyth, Janna thought angrily. “My mother never lost faith in God, but she lost faith in those who professed to carry out His work here on earth in His name.”
A shocked silence followed her explanation. Then Sister Marie said,“And I shall also be speaking of this in chapter tomorrow. I shall do all in my power to have your mother’s body disinterred and reburied in hallowed ground. We might even bring her here if the priest proves obdurate. After all, this was her home for a long time, and she served us faithfully. We did her a great disservice in life. At least let us honor her life in death. She deserves no less from us.”
“The abbess will never agree to it,” Janna pointed out.
Sister Marie gave her a long, cool stare. “You may leave the abbess to me,” she said. Janna wondered what power the tiny nun could possibly wield other than her great age. But perhaps that was enough in a place such as this.
She thanked the two sisters, and Sister Amice led her out to the heavy door that closed them off from the world outside. “I am truly sorry for all the hardship that befell your mother, and for our part in making her life so much more difficult than it should have been,” she said, as she opened the latch.
Janna could not offer forgiveness, but she could remember the courtesy that Eadgyth had taught her. “Thank you for taking the time to tell me what you know.”
She was thoughtful as she walked from the abbey toward the town. She’d learned some interesting facts about her parents, including several things of vital importance. Her mother had never taken her vows. Janna was pleased to have that mystery cleared up, for she’d worried about how her father had so far forgotten himself as to seduce a nun. In truth, she’d found it hard to feel respect for him, yet all had been made clear now. Her mother had never been a nun, and had loved her father as he had loved her. It warmed Janna to think of it.
More important, for her purpose, was Sister Marie’s confirmation that her father had property in Winchestre. She had learned all she was likely to learn here in Ambresberie. She would waste no time, now, in setting off for Winchestre.
First, however, there was Winifred’s problem to sort out. Janna thought of the figurine she had found in the forest. If Ulf was not prepared to return the sacred relic and share the reward with Winifred, would the figurine be enough of a dowry for the young girl to gain a place at Ambresberie? Janna still wore her purse outside her gown. She untied it, and pulled out the small statue of the mother and her child. She peered at it in the fading light, marveling anew at the sweet expression of the mother and how tenderly she cradled her child. She would be sorry to give up the figurine, for it had brought her great comfort along her journey. But perhaps it had served its purpose. She’d already learned much about her family that she hadn’t known before. Perhaps now it was time to pass on its power to heal and bring good fortune to someone else. If the figurine was enough for Winifred to gain acceptance, once she was inside the abbey, she could leave the relic somewhere safe to be found. Janna was sure the abbess would be delighted to claim the reward for the missing hand.
She nodded to herself. It was a good plan. She would share it with Winifred just as soon as she found them all. She thrust the figurine back into her purse and then, conscious of the need to keep everything safe, she ducked behind a bush under the cover of darkness to secure her purse under her gown once more.
There was no sign of the pilgrim band in the streets, although she walked around for some time looking for her fellow travelers. Eventually she spied a bush and a lamp hanging from a post outside a sizable cottage, and turned her steps toward it. Several horses were tethered outside. She thought she recognized Ralph’s palfrey among them.
The alehouse was brimming with people, all pushing and shoving to get a seat and a mug of home brew inside them. Janna paused on the threshold, breathing in the smoky air and squinting through the haze to look for the pilgrims. She decided to stop even if she couldn’t find them, for she was hungry and thirsty. She walked through the crowd to find an empty seat, and spied the pilgrims huddled at a table at the back. Juliana was not among them.
As soon as Ralph caught sight of her, he shifted over, pushing Winifred further along the bench to leave a space on his other side.
“Did you see anyone useful? Did you find out what you wanted to know?” he asked quietly, once Janna had sat down and greeted them all.
“Yes.” She was grateful for his concern. “And you were right! They didn’t know much about my father, but he does have property in Winchestre. So that’s where I shall go.”
Ralph nodded thoughtfully. “It’s as I thought.”
“And what did you think exactly?”
He smiled enigmatically. “Leave it with me for the moment,” he advised. “I don’t want to raise your hopes, not until I’ve made some enquiries.”
“My lord! You do try my patience!” Janna gave his arm a playful punch.
He caught her hand and held it. Once more she felt the power of his mesmerizing blue gaze. “Trust me,” he said softly. “I’ll help you find him, I promise you.”
Janna sat quietly, with her hand held tight in his. Her mind was whirling with all she had learned. Her emotions were also in turmoil. Ralph sat close, pressed to her side in the crush of people. She was acutely aware of him, of his regard, of his promise. What could it
mean? Excitement distracted her from the hum of conversation around the table, but finally a name caught her attention.
“Juliana?” she repeated, pressing her mouth close to Ralph’s ear so that he could hear her above the din. “Where is she?”
“She has accompanied her son’s body to Oxeneford.”
“What about Ulf?” Janna looked for him down the table. He caught her eye and nodded. She’d never seen him look so careworn before.
“He returned, with my horse. Mistress Juliana made other arrangements to transport Bernard’s body.”
There was a roar of laughter from a bunch of drunken youths close by. Two of their number came reeling toward them and crashed against their table, bursting into high giggles when they saw what they’d done.
“Watch where you’re going!” Ulf shouted, throwing out his hands to try to catch the goblets and trenchers that skidded across the table. The youth in front grinned at him and nudged his companion, who was now busy trying to clear enough space to sit down beside Janna on the end of the bench. Caught off-balance, he lurched sideways.
“Go away!” Janna snatched her hand from Ralph’s and pushed him away, just in time to prevent him from collapsing onto her lap. His companion caught his arm, and heaved him back onto his feet. The two of them continued on their merry way, leaving the pilgrims grumbling in protest at the mess on the table. Drinks had spilled, some into their supper so that their trenchers were now soggy with ale. It left an unappetizing mess to be cleaned up, and Ralph jumped up and went off to summon a servant.
Taking advantage of Ralph’s absence, Janna leaned over to Winifred. “Did you talk to Ulf?” she whispered. “What did he say?”
Winifred’s hand went automatically to her purse. Her face became ashen as she desperately patted down the sides of her gown, looking for it. Her groping hands found her girdle and she untied it and held it up, displaying the neat cut where the purse had once hung. “It’s gone!” She ran the girdle through her fingers as if unable to believe the evidence of her own eyes. “My purse!” she wailed. “It’s gone.”
Janna realized what had happened. “Go after those two young drunkards,” she shouted down the table at Ulf. “They’ve got Winifred’s purse.” She knew Ulf would understand the extent of Winifred’s loss. “Hurry!” she said urgently, as Ulf hesitated.
He jumped up and pushed his way through the crowd in pursuit of the thieves. Janna turned back to Winifred. “Let’s make sure it hasn’t fallen under the table,” she said, knowing that it was probably hopeless but determined to make sure. She ducked down, already regretting her impulse as she saw what awaited them. The straw under the table was filthy with old bones and scraps of food that added their stink to the smelly boots of the pilgrims. Janna held her breath as she felt about. As she’d feared, there was no sign of the purse at all. She backed out and faced Winifred.
The young woman was rigid with fear, almost beyond thought. “What shall I do, Janna?” she whispered. “Oh God in His mercy, what shall I do?”
“Did you carry valuables in your purse, mistress?” Morcar asked sympathetically.
“No! No, only…” She looked toward Janna, at a loss.
“Only some few things to remind Winifred of her home,” Janna said firmly. She glanced about the alehouse, praying for Ulf’s success. But it was some time before he returned, and then it was with a rueful expression and a bloody nose.
“They didn’t dake kindly to by accusation,” he said thickly. “I did by best to search ’em, bud…” He touched his nose, thoroughly sorry for himself.
Winifred shut her eyes, too miserable even to thank him for his trouble.
“Come outside with me.” Janna grabbed Ulf’s sleeve. “I’ll clean that up for you. You come too, Winifred.” She knew it would do no good if, in her distress, Winifred confessed her deed to the pilgrims.
“Have you got an old rag of some sort?” she asked Ulf, as they came to a water pump beside a horse trough. He nodded and pulled a small package from his pack, which he carefully unwrapped. Janna couldn’t see what the wrapping concealed, for Ulf was quick to secrete the treasure in his scrip. She took the piece of homespun from him and sluiced it under the spout.
“Have you spoken to Ulf, Winifred?” she asked, as she began to clean the worst of the blood from around Ulf’s nose.
“About the hand? Yes, I have, although I had the devil’s own difficulty shaking Master Ralph from my side before I could say anything. I didn’t want him knowing about it too! It was shaming enough just talking to you about it, Ulf.” She winced in sympathy as he suddenly shouted, “Ouch!”
“Sorry!” Janna began to dab more gently at Ulf’s swollen nose. “So what did you decide?”
“We agreed to take the hand to Ambresberie Abbey together and ask the abbess to return it to Wiltune. Ulf was going to claim the reward for its return, and I was going to ask for a place in the abbey.” Winifred began to cry as she realized that the relic was truly gone, and her hopes for the future with it.
Ulf nodded gingerly, wincing as the movement jarred against the cloth in Janna’s hand. “Bud I hab sub udder thigs ib by bag.”
“What?” Winifred stared at him through her tears.
“In his bag?” Janna indicated Ulf’s pack. “I think he’s saying he’s got some other things in there.”
“Relics, you mean? But…I can’t afford to give you an offering, Ulf. I’ve got nothing, don’t you understand? I’ve got nothing to give you in return!”
Ulf shrugged. “There bay be a way – ” he began, but Winifred interrupted him.
“I stole the hand from the reliquary, but my sin is doubled for now I have lost a precious relic too! Nothing I do can ever make up for that. I am doomed, damned forever!” she cried. “Those drunken sots! They can have no idea what it is they’ve stolen. The hand of St James – oh!” She shuddered as she envisaged its fate.
Janna made up her mind. “Don’t despair, Winifred. The relic is gone, but I’ve got something you can have which may be enough to gain your admission into an abbey.” She gave Ulf’s bloodied nose a last careful wipe. She washed the rag clean under the pump and handed it to him. “Tip your head back and keep this over the bridge of your nose for a little while. It will help to stop the bleeding.”
She turned her back and, in the darkness, lifted her skirt and carefully drew the small figurine from her purse. “A pagan idol,” Juliana had called it. She must take care not to put any such idea in Winifred’s mind.
“This is a precious statue of the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus,” she said firmly. Ulf squinted down his nose at her with an expression of disbelief. But he didn’t say anything. Winifred stretched out her hand to take the figurine from Janna and took it over to the lamp at the doorway, the better to see it. She turned it around and over, studying the delicate lines of the carving, and the tender expression on the mother’s face.
“It’s – it’s beautiful!” she breathed. “Where did it come from, Janna?”
Janna hesitated. If she confessed to finding it in the forest, its provenance would be forever suspect. Yet her brain stalled, refusing to come up with a convincing explanation. Ulf stepped into the breach.
“Didn’t you tell me id was given to you as a parding gift by the Abbess of Wiltune?”
“I…” Janna’s mouth opened, then closed. She nodded.
“And you would give it to me?” Winifred’s eyes shone with hope. “Oh, Janna, thank you!” Impulsively, she flung her arms around Janna and gave her a hug. “Oh!” She studied the figurine once more, stroking its smooth surface in wonder.
“I hope it will open a door for you.” Janna was busy trying to stifle pangs of regret. “Perhaps you could try for admission here at Ambresberie? The abbey seems quite small, and I don’t think it’s wealthy. The abbess might be glad of something like this to add to their store of valuables. But don’t tell her that I gave this to you. In fact, don’t mention my name at all.”
“Can we go tonight?�
�� Winifred raised a shining face to Janna, all care seemingly forgotten now that rescue had come her way.
“I am sure there will be a guest house attached to the abbey. We could ask for shelter for the night, and you can look around at the same time and see what you think.”
“I must make my farewells to the pilgrims before we go.” Winifred danced inside to show off her treasure to the others.
Ulf lingered beside Janna. He breathed in a few cautious breaths in an effort to clear his nose, and gave a loud sniff.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a plaster or poultice to ease the pain and swelling,” Janna apologized.
“It feels better already,” Ulf assured her. “Thank you, lass. You’re very kind.”
Janna was silent for a moment, feeling regret for the loss of the little statue, and also for the need to tell yet another lie. She turned to Ulf. “You don’t believe what I just said about the mother and child, do you?”
“And you don’t believe what I just said about the abbess either,” he retorted with a grin.
“But – you’re a relic seller. Dealer. Whatever you are.” Janna couldn’t think of the right word to describe Ulf’s trade. “Surely you don’t tell lies about your relics? You must believe what you tell people.”
“Aye. Maybe. You should know that relics, genuine relics, are very few and far between.”
“And so you help the process along a little?”
Ulf inclined his head, looking grave. “I don’t go so far as some I’ve met, who resort to such tricks as taking severed heads from pikes and cleaning and drying ’em with spices, and touting ’em as relics. I saw one such, and was told it was the head of St John the Baptist!”
“And did you buy – make an offering for it?”
“I did not, for I know the fellow well by reputation as a charlatan. Others, I am sure, would have been gulled by him – if they did not know that the head already resides in Jerusalem, or in Damascus, or even in Rome – or maybe in all three!”
Pilgrim of Death: The Janna Chronicles 4 Page 14
