'It's too late for warning. He won't listen to me.' Juliana moistened her lips with her tongue. 'When I first spoke of my fear for his safety, Bernard told me that our lives are as candles to the breath of God. We may burn bright and steady, sure in our purpose, or we may flicker feebly in the darkness of self-doubt. But our end is always at God's will. And he said that whenever God called him, he would be ready.' Her voice sharpened in anguish. 'But I will never be ready! I will never be ready to lose my son!'
At a loss for words, Janna sat beside Juliana for the remainder of the meal, and lay down beside her when it was time to take their rest. The small room was stuffy and airless, and reeked of the smell of unwashed bodies and clothes, farts and old food, and smoke from the half-doused fire. She itched and scratched, knowing that fleas and lice and probably bedbugs too had found a home in the dirty straw that covered the floor. She turned restlessly, finding it impossible to settle to sleep. Finally she rose and cautiously threaded her way through the recumbent bodies to the closed door of the farmstead.
She pushed it open and stepped outside, taking a deep and grateful gulp of fresh, cool air. It had stopped raining. The clouds were shifting, showing scatters of stars through their ragged hems. In the faint moonlight she could make out the dark shape of a barn and the humped shadows of animals. She decided to go in search of somewhere quiet and solitary to sleep: a dry patch of grass under a tree, perhaps, or she might venture into the barn. She was about to close the door behind her when she felt a pressure against her hand. The door opened wider, and the stranger stepped quickly over the threshold. He grinned and put his finger to his lips as he quietly closed the door behind him. Still with his finger to his lips, he took Janna's hand and led her a little way from the hall and the sleepers inside.
'Did you follow me?' Janna demanded, when Ralph finally stopped and let go of her hand. He made no answer, but instead propped his shoulder against the side of the barn, seeming quite at ease in spite of her accusation. She could hardly see his face in the dim light, but thought he might be smiling.
'What do you want? Did you follow me?' she asked again, her tone sharp with underlying fear.
'I could lie and say "no", but why should I hide the truth?' he answered quietly. 'Yes, mistress, I followed you. Many men would, if given half the chance.'
Janna drew a breath. 'Then perhaps I should go back inside where there is company and protection, should I need it.' A sudden shiver raised the hairs along her arms. She had been ambushed once before, and by a man with murder on his mind. She had avoided harm on that occasion; she might not be so fortunate next time. Were Ralph's words meant as mere flattery or did he, like the assassin before him, desire her death as well as her body? She kept still, pondering means of escape should he make an untoward move. But he had taken up a position between her and the farmhouse. She would have to get past him in order to reach the others. Only the thought that help was so close at hand kept her from shouting her fear aloud.
'I mean you no harm, Johanna.' Realising she had misinterpreted his motive, he was quick to reassure her. 'My words were meant as a compliment.'
'You don't know me well enough to follow me out into the night, or pay me compliments!' In spite of her reprimand, Janna was hardly able to hide her relief.
'All right then, I wanted a chance to talk to you,' Ralph admitted. 'It's about the dead man. I've been wondering if he might be a kinsman of mine. My cousin set out on a journey some time ago, but he seems to have gone missing and I can't help fearing for his safety in these troubled times. Can you tell me what the dead man looked like?'
'His hair was dark, and worn shorter than yours. He was clean-shaven. And his clothes were costly.' Janna's sympathy was aroused now, and she was keen to give as accurate an account as she could. As she detailed the clothes worn by the dead man, she was struck by a thought. 'If this is your kinsman, he has been dead for several days,' she concluded.
'How do you know?'
Janna hesitated, wondering how to phrase her words so as not to cause Ralph undue distress. 'His body was . . . marked. There were . . . signs that it had lain there for some time.' She hoped she'd said enough to convince him.
'Signs?'
'Insects. And . . . and bite marks.' She really didn't want to tell him that animals had started to eat his cousin. But fortunately Ralph had heard enough.
'He sounds something like my cousin,' he said urgently. 'But if it was, he would have carried documents with him.'
'What sort of documents?' Janna wondered if Ralph's cousin was indeed carrying a message from the bishop to the empress, and if it would be safe to tell what she had seen.
'Oh, the sort of documents any merchant might carry.' Ralph was silent for a moment. 'More important, I do know that he carried a letter from his wife to her family, for my cousin intended to visit them along the way. There would have been a red seal on the parchment. Did you see anything like that?'
'Not like that, no.' Janna was quite sure now that the bishop's letter could have no connection to Ralph's cousin's wife. She was pleased to be able to set Ralph's mind at rest on that score, while settling her conscience at the same time.
'So you did see something?' He was quick to pick up her slip of the tongue.
'No!' Janna was glad of the dark, for she could feel her face flame hot with the lie and knew her blushes would give her away. 'I am quite sure that the dead man was not your cousin,' she added hastily.
Ralph nodded thoughtfully. 'I wonder if you and Master Bernard were the first to find him?' he queried. 'You say the body may have lain there for several days. Others might have come before you and searched the dead man's scrip, for it seems strange that you found nothing to identify him at all. Surely no-one would travel so light?'
'I am sure we were the first to find him, for it was only chance that took us down to the river at that place. There was a party of horsemen on the road and Master Bernard wanted to keep out of their way. Besides, everything about the dead man seemed undisturbed. Any thief would have removed his rings, or the gold chain about his neck, or his silver dagger, but nothing was taken. And any honest man would not have left him just lying there. The dead man's horse grazed nearby; it was an easy enough task to hoist the body onto its back and lead it to the nearest hamlet.'
She wondered if she'd said enough to put Ralph's mind at ease. 'That's what we did,' she added, thinking that Ralph could check for himself, if he still had any doubts. 'The body has been taken to Wiltune by the abbey's guard. He, himself, searched both the dead man and his belongings, and found nothing to say who he was. But he has assured us he will pursue enquiries regarding the man's identity and will do his utmost to find his nearest kin. You could ride to Wiltune tomorrow and look for yourself, if you wish. It's not far.'
Ralph was silent for a moment. Then he said, 'It's clear to me that you are clever as well as perceptive, Johanna. If you know anything about the identity of the dead man, or the papers he might have carried, you will tell me, won't you? You would be well rewarded for your trouble.'
Pleasure at his flattery was outweighed by anger that he could so misjudge her character. Janna drew herself up to her full height. 'We found nothing to say that the dead man was your cousin,' she said stiffly. She glanced sideways, and caught the gleam of Ralph's eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was regarding her intently.
'But there was something?'
Mindful of her promise to Bernard, Janna silently cursed herself for allowing doubt to creep into Ralph's mind. 'No,' she said firmly, as firmly as her troubled conscience would allow. 'No, there was nothing.'
To Janna's relief he seemed to accept her denial. 'Thank you for setting my mind at rest, Johanna,' he said. 'It would seem that my cousin has either been waylaid on his journey or has travelled ahead of me. I fear the former, for he ever had an eye for a game of dice and a weakness for ale.' He gave a rueful laugh. 'Forgive me if I seemed to doubt you. I should have remembered what my cousin is like.'
'B
ut will you go to Wiltune to view the body and make sure?' Janna rather hoped he would not. Now that he'd accepted her word, she thought she might enjoy the company of this agreeable stranger.
'No, you've said enough to convince me it would be a waste of my time.' He leaned a little closer in the darkness. Janna was conscious of his body close to hers, his warm breath on her cheek as he whispered, 'I'll continue my journey along with you, if that's agreeable to your leader. It will be good to have your company along the way.'
Your company? Was he referring to her company alone, or the company of the pilgrims?
'And is the purpose of your journey only to visit the shrine of St Frideswide, sire?' Janna was glad to move the conversation on to a safer topic. Besides, she couldn't help feeling curious as to why someone, obviously well-born and with a mount to speed his journey, should elect to take the slow way with them.
'Yes, indeed.' Ralph sounded somewhat taken aback by her question. 'As I said, I am a pilgrim just like you.'
'But I am not on a pilgrimage,' Janna reminded him. 'Besides, my destination is Ambresberie.' Not wanting to give him any opportunity to question her further, she hurried on. 'Do you have a special reason for visiting St Frideswide? What is the saint's claim to fame?'
'She was a religious. She's wrought many miracles over the years.'
Just like every other saint! Janna hid a smile. 'Do you need a miracle, my lord?'
'Maybe I do.' Ralph sounded unexpectedly serious as he added, 'Maybe we all do.'
'And is your cousin also going to Oxeneford?' Janna asked. 'Perhaps we might meet up with him on our journey?'
'Perhaps.' But Ralph didn't sound entirely convinced. Janna wondered if he still harboured secret doubts about the dead man.
'And why do you go to Ambresberie, Johanna?' he asked in turn.
Janna hesitated. She didn't want to tell him anything about her family, but after dodging his questions and concealing what she knew about the letter found on the dead man, she felt she owed him something. 'I'm bound for the abbey to seek information.'
'Oh?' She heard the spark of interest in his voice.
'About my family.' To forestall his next question, she added quickly, 'I came outside for some fresh air, but I'm tired now. I'm going inside.' Her plan to sleep outdoors was no longer possible, not with Ralph prowling about. Without giving him time to question her further, she scurried past him and let herself back in to the stuffy, malodorous hall.
FIVE
I MUST TALK to you, Janna. I'm so worried, I can't sleep.' Winifred wriggled closer to Janna as she lay down once more to rest.
'Then you must talk to me here, for we can't go outside.' Ralph had not followed Janna in. She wondered what he was up to out there, if he was also finding it hard to sleep in these cramped confines. Or was it worry about his cousin that kept him awake? If so, he could always go back to Wiltune to see for himself the identity of the stranger.
She shifted uneasily. Where had Ralph come from this day if not from Wiltune? Was there another purpose for his coming here, something entirely unconnected with his cousin?
But there was no reason to doubt him. He could have come from anywhere, travelling as he was on horseback and able to traverse many more miles in a day than they could. And his curiosity was understandable. Janna wished she could tell him that the dead man was the bishop's messenger. While she was fairly sure that Bernard had the truth of the matter, that the man's death had been an accident, Janna wasn't sure he was right in thinking the matter of so little import that it would suffice to carry the message to the empress himself, particularly given their slow rate of progress. Ralph had a horse and could travel much faster than they could. But whose side was he on in this bitter civil war? There was no way of knowing if they could trust him.
No. Bernard was right. She must say nothing. She wriggled about, trying to find a more comfortable position on the prickly straw, and became aware that Winifred was still whis-pering urgently into her ear.
'. . . and so I thought I'd borrow it and take it back where it belongs. But after what you and Ulf said earlier, I realise it's not going to work. I'm in real trouble, Janna. Please, please help me!'
It took a few moments for Janna to realise she had no idea what Winifred was talking about. 'What did you borrow?' she asked.
'The hand, of course!'
'The hand?'
'Of St James of Compostela. Haven't you been listening?'
'Yes! No, I'm sorry, you'd better start again. What's all this about the hand of St James?'
'I borrowed it from Wiltune Abbey.'
'You . . . what?' Janna couldn't believe her ears.
'But Ulf knows I have it. I'm sure he knows. What'll I do if he tells anyone I've got it?'
'Wait. Wait!' Janna shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. 'You stole the hand? It was you?'
'I didn't steal it, I borrowed it. Well, not borrowed it exactly, because it doesn't even belong at Wiltune. When I prayed to the saint for guidance, she let me know that my sacred mission is to take the hand back to where it came from. To the abbey at Radinges. You see, if I return it to them, I'm sure the monks will be so glad to have it back again they'll help me realise my heart's dream. I shall ask them to recommend me to an abbey where I can be taken in as a postulant.'
'Recommend a thief as a postulant?' Janna was still having trouble coming to grips with Winifred's extraordinary confession.
'I'm not a thief!' Winifred's voice rose high with indignation, and Janna hastily shushed her. 'I didn't take the hand for me,' she continued more quietly. 'I'm going to give it back to its rightful owners. To the monks at Radinges. Not Wiltune. Not Oxeneford either. I just said I was going there as an excuse to travel with the pilgrims for part of the way. But Ulf knows I've got it. I could tell by what he said and the way he looked at me. He must have seen me hiding the hand in the holly bush when the abbey guard came to question us.'
Janna was silent as several oddities suddenly began to make sense. Winifred's scratched hands, and her fear when Ulf described what she must have done, almost as if he'd witnessed her behaviour. Had Ulf really seen her, or was it just a lucky guess on his part? She recalled Ulf's pointed comments, and nodded thoughtfully to herself. Ulf knew all right, and he'd made sure that Winifred understood what he'd seen her do.
'I shouldn't worry about Ulf,' she said, trying to reassure the wretched girl. 'If he saw you and meant to cause trouble for you, he would have said something to the abbey guard, or gone after him, got word to him somehow.' She was silent for a moment. 'Are you sure you've still got the relic?' she asked. 'Because that dog was chewing on a hand, I know it was. And Ulf looked as guilty as an angel caught dancing with the devil when I said so.'
'Whatever Brutus was chewing, it wasn't what I've got.' Winifred felt for Janna's hand, and drew it towards the purse she cradled so carefully. 'The blessed relic is in here.'
Janna's searching fingers touched hard bone through the worn leather of Winifred's purse. 'You've got a nerve!' She wasn't sure whether to laugh or be shocked.
'It wasn't my decision. St Edith showed me the way,' Winifred insisted. 'I was praying at her shrine, asking for guidance as to how I could persuade an abbey to take me in without a dowry. And St Edith answered my prayers! The sacristan was called away and I was left alone with the precious relics of both St Edith and St James. I'd been thinking how angry and how disappointed the monks at Radinges must feel to have their precious relic snatched from them by the empress, and suddenly here I was with the means to address that wrong, and at the same time fulfil my purpose in life by serving the Lord! I knew I couldn't shift the reliquary but it was the work of only moments to open it and lift out the hand.'
Janna smiled openly, knowing that Winifred would not see her amusement in the darkness. She'd never yet heard of a thief with the brazen cheek to claim that God – or even a saint – had encouraged their wrongdoing. And yet she knew, of her own experience, how St Edith had intervened in people
's lives – including her own. So who was she to say that Winifred's act might not appeal to the saint's sense of humour, or even her determination to bring another soul to God? Who was she to judge the rights or wrongs of the matter?
She remembered the resolute set of Winifred's jaw, and the fire in her voice when she spoke of her calling. The young woman had acted with courage and determination to breathe life into her dreams. No matter how twisted her motives, her action showed plainly how desperately she wanted to retreat from the world and live as a religious. Even if Janna couldn't share Winifred's ambition, still she felt a sneaking sympathy with anyone who would do something so outrageous to achieve her desire. In fact, she reminded herself, she was hardly in any position to judge Winifred for she, too, was a thief. She had stolen garments and set fire to a barn, and had found justification for her actions at the same time.
Janna shifted uncomfortably at the memory. The straw prickled, the smell of stale food and mould was strong in her nostrils. She became aware that Winifred was speaking once more.
'. . . and then I realised you were right,' she said anxiously. 'They'll ask questions about where I found the hand. They'll suspect that I took it in the first place. And they'll be bound to send it back to Wiltune, so all of this will have been in vain. I was going to call myself Sister Edith, in honour of the saint who helped me. I can't believe she has set me on the wrong path, but I don't know what to do now to make things right. What do you think, Janna? Should I turn back and return the hand to Wiltune?'
'In the hope of receiving a reward large enough to buy your way into the abbey of your choice?'
'No. To confess my misdeed.' Winifred sounded thoroughly dejected. It was clear to Janna that she had given up her dream and was now facing the harsh reality of her actions.
'You'll be severely punished for it, if you do so.' Janna felt sorry that such an act of daring should come to naught.
Willows for Weeping Page 7
