Stolen Child: The Janna Chronicles 2

by Felicity Pulman

  He held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I beg pardon, mistress,” he muttered. “I have nothing save the clothes I am wearing, so I was going to use what I stole from you to travel somewhere safe, to find shelter and buy food. But I won’t try again; leastways not while you’re holding that sword!”

  “Why are you here in the forest?” Janna demanded, not in the least mollified by his explanation. “What are you hiding from?”

  “Why are you here? What are you hiding from?”

  Janna was silenced, but only for a moment. “I asked first.”

  A grin stole over his face once more. “I’ll make a bargain with you. I’ll tell you my story if you’ll tell me yours.” He waited for her grudging nod before continuing. “I am on the run from my lord. He’s a cruel man, cruel as the devil. He beat me.” The youth touched his dirty face. Janna saw a jagged scar on his chin, and winced in sympathy. “I ran away. I decided I’d rather live as an outlaw than stay at the mercy of that swine. I’ve been hiding here in the forest ever since, catching whatever I may to eat, and drinking water from that pool you fell into.”

  “How long have you been here?” Janna strove to keep any hint of warmth from her voice, lest he believe she might take pity on him and relax her guard.

  “I don’t know the time in days exactly, but I reached the forest as the trees were just coming into bud from their winter sleep. I think it must be mid-summer by now?”

  Janna nodded. “Close enough. The fence month may well have started already. You must certainly leave the forest as soon as possible, as must I.”

  “Why?”

  “’Tis the time when does give birth to their fawns. The forest is forbidden to all at that time so that mothers and their babies are not disturbed. ’Tis a dangerous time to hide here, for the forester will be on constant watch to protect the king’s deer for the hunting season to come.”

  The young man nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll have to take my chances. I can’t leave until the seasons turn full circle.”

  “Why so long?”

  “If I can stay hidden for a year and a day, I shall have earned my freedom from my lord.” The youth grinned ruefully. “It’s the winter to come that I dread. I don’t know how I shall keep myself alive through the cold.”

  Janna felt some sympathy for the ruffian. His story touched her. So, too, did the fact that, although he’d stolen her purse, he’d made no effort to harm her, or keep her goods once she’d tracked him down. Besides, she was in no position to judge what anyone might do when pushed to the limit of need for she, too, had stolen something: the clothes she wore, and from a poor peasant who could ill afford to lose them.

  “What will you do after a year and a day?” she asked.

  The young man shrugged. “I would like to become an apprentice, to learn a trade, but I have not the money for that. So I will do anything at all that might help me earn my bread and keep.”

  “No-one will give you work and shelter once they know you’re a runaway serf,” Janna pointed out.

  “They will if they think I’ve come from Wales. That’s what I’ll tell them. They won’t care who my lord was, so long as I show willing and work hard.” The youth flexed his muscles. “I am strong,” he boasted, “and I can turn my hand to anything I’m asked to do. I’ll have no trouble finding someone to take me in.”

  Janna nodded thoughtfully. If she helped him, might he, in turn, help her? She held out her hand. “My name is Johanna, but I’m known as Janna,” she said. “I, too, am in hiding from those who wish me harm. That’s why I’m dressed like this. I call myself ‘John’ after my father—for I believe he was a man of wealth and importance.”

  The youth nodded. He relaxed his wary stance, sprawling back against the grass. “My name is Edwin.”

  “If you come from Wales, shouldn’t you should call yourself by a Welsh name? Hoel or Gwyn, something like that?”

  “Edwin, Hoel, it makes no matter so long as they believe I’m a free man from across the border.” He shrugged, and patted the grass beside him. “Sit down,” he invited. “I won’t hurt you.”

  Not taking any chances, Janna hooked the purse onto her girdle, and tied the girdle firmly around her waist. Then she sat down as she was bid, sword close at hand, keeping a careful distance from Edwin.

  “So where are you bound? And why are you hiding?” he prompted.

  Janna hesitated, hardly knowing where her story should start. With the fact that her cottage was burnt to the ground and she was homeless? Or a few days before then, when the nightmare first began?

  “I am Janna, daughter of Eadgyth the wortwyf,” she said, and went on to tell him something of what had forced her to take shelter in the forest. “My mother taught me all she knew, but she is dead,” she concluded. “She died in mysterious circumstances, and I have sworn to avenge her death. But I cannot accuse the man responsible, not yet, for he is all-powerful whereas I am a reviled outcast. So now I’m searching for my unknown father to help me in my quest for justice.” She patted the purse at her waist. “And I’m hoping that this letter and these pieces of jewelry will help me find him.”

  “No wonder you took after me in such a fury!” Edwin gave her a rueful smile. “But I still don’t understand why you’re dressed like a youth and why you travel in such secrecy?”

  “The man responsible for my mother’s death turned the villagers against me. They burned my cottage to the ground, thinking I was in it. It is safer for me if everyone thinks I died in the blaze, but just in case anyone sees me…” She swept a hand down her body indicating the clothes she wore, and bobbed her head to him.

  Edwin’s lips pursed in a silent whistle. He regarded Janna thoughtfully for a moment. “It seems to me that, if we can’t stay here in the forest, we should journey together. We might be able to help each other.”

  Janna nodded in quick agreement. “Your lord searches for a lone runaway, while you understood what I was without any trouble.” She slid a sideways glance at him

  “Yes, well I was in a… a position to see more of you than most,” he said, looking somewhat abashed.

  “Than any man has ever seen before,” Janna said tartly. “Had you not seen what you did, would you say I could pass for a youth?”

  He looked her fully in the face now. He was taller than her, and older too. His face was comely rather than handsome, and he had an attractive smile. She took note of the scratches on his dirty brown cheek, freshly made and dappled with beads of blood. She, too, had left her mark on Edwin. “You should wash those scratches,” she said. “I’ll find some herbs that will help them to heal.” She felt sympathy for the mistreated youth, but she would not apologize for attacking him; she wasn’t ready yet to forgive him.

  He nodded his thanks. “You dress like a man,” he told her, “but you walk and talk like a young woman.” He jumped to his feet, put a hand on his hip and took a few mincing steps.

  Janna was surprised into laughter. “I do not!” she protested.

  “You laugh like one, too.”

  Janna gurgled into silence. “I can’t dress as I really am,” she pointed out, making her voice purposely deep. “These clothes I’m wearing are all that I own.”

  “That’s better. And if you walk like so…” He began to stride about, his arms loose and swinging freely by his side.

  Janna scrambled up and copied his gait, walking first beside him and then in front so that he could watch her. “Like this?”

  He nodded. “You fight like a maid, too.” He winced as he touched the scratches on his face. Janna kept silent, refusing to feel guilty for protecting what was rightfully hers. “If you’re going to live as a boy, you’ll need to learn how to defend yourself in a fight,” Edwin continued. “You haven’t the strength to fight fair, but your instinct was right.” He patted his groin. “A hard kick here will cripple your attacker and give you time to run like the devil himself. But you were too slow. I knew exactly what you had in mind.” He forked two fingers and
, before Janna had a chance to react, he stabbed them toward her eyes. “You could also try to blind your opponent like this, or…” Edwin’s fingers closed together. “You can use your hand to break his nose, or his neck.” His hand became a blade as he chopped up toward Janna’s nostrils and then sideways at her throat. She felt the side of his fingers slam against her skin, and swallowed involuntarily.

  “Hit hard, hard as you can. And be quick, you have to take your enemy by surprise,” Edwin said. “But what will you do if he comes from behind you?” Giving Janna no time to reply, he ducked behind her and grabbed her, pinning her arms to her side and holding her close to his chest. With a startled cry, she tried to fight him off. “What will you do then?” he whispered. His breath blew against her ear. She felt a deadly fear as she realized she was powerless in his grasp. Still he held her, while she struggled uselessly. He gave a small huff of amusement and tightened his hold. The sound enraged Janna; she increased her efforts, but to the same end. She could not get away from him.

  “You stamp down on my foot. Hard,” he told her. As Janna’s knee came up he released her with a push, and skipped away out of danger. “Don’t signal your actions,” he warned. “And don’t give your enemy any chance to escape.”

  Janna nodded slowly. Without warning, she sprang toward him. Her fingers stopped a hair’s breadth from his eyes.

  “Yes, that’s it. Now go practice on someone else!”

  Janna scowled at him. Her heart was still racing after the fright he’d given her.

  Unrepentant, he smiled back. “You’ll do, John—so long as you remember who and what you are!”

  “I’ll remember.” She squeezed her fingers together and tried a few practice chops at the air, pretending that she was aiming at an opponent’s neck. And his nose. Her fingers formed into a V to stab at unseen eyes. For good measure, she stamped down hard on an imaginary foot.

  Edwin craned his head back to look up through the green veil of leaves. “There’s not enough sunlight to tell which direction we should walk in,” he said. “Do you know the way through to the other side of the forest?”

  “No.” Janna’s face fell. “I lost the path at that clearing by the pool.” She looked around her. “I have no idea where we are now.”

  “We’re at the place I’ve made into my home.” He jerked a thumb behind him. Looking past him, Janna noticed a small shelter fashioned from branches and stuffed with mud and leaves. Longer branches were laid on top of the primitive walls to form a rough roof; they were covered with a layer of reeds for extra protection. She had to look hard to see the shelter, for it was almost indistinguishable from the surrounding forest. It would give Edwin some cover from rain, but was too small for anyone to live in any comfort. Nearby was a small circle of blackened flints, with three branches meeting at a point above the space in the middle—Edwin’s fireplace.

  “What do you do for food? Do you have any?” she asked, suddenly ravenous.

  Edwin looked shifty. “I trap small creatures with this,” he admitted, pulling a snare of plaited fibres from the front of his tunic. “I cook them and eat them.”

  Janna felt juices seep into her mouth. “I’m so hungry,” she said. “Do you have anything we can eat now?”

  “No.” He smiled slightly. “I could offer you some water, but I saw you drink your fill in the pool.”

  “You have water? And something to cook in?” Janna’s gaze flicked across the forest floor, settling on several plants of interest to her. Edwin nodded. “Then light the fire,” she instructed. “Before we go anywhere, I’ll make us a pottage of herbs to fill our bellies for the journey.”

  “We can’t, not in daylight! The smoke will betray us.” Edwin cast a nervous glance about him.

  Janna hesitated. Her stomach growled with hunger. She was famished. “Let’s risk it,” she said. “The forester is probably miles away, and even if he does see the smoke we’ll be gone long before he can track its source.” Not giving Edwin a chance to protest, she drew out her knife and hurried to a clump of nettles. She plucked the nettles by the stem and carefully harvested the young leaves. She held up the front of her smock like an apron, and dropped them in. All the while, she kept an eye on Edwin’s movements. Although her treasures were safe in her purse, she still didn’t trust the young outlaw. While it was true they might help each other, she remained wary. His boast had not been an idle one, she thought, as she recalled how powerless she’d been in his grip. In a fair fight between them, he would be the winner. He was taller, and he had a wiry strength that became evident as he wrestled with a dead branch to break it up for kindling.

  A patch of chickweed drew her on, and she plucked a handful of green shoots before gathering dandelions and a snippet of wild garlic to add flavor. She glanced back, and noticed that Edwin had now lit a fire and was pouring water from a small, crudely made jug into an iron pot. As she watched, he hooked the pot over the flames to heat. Reassured that they had a common purpose, Janna ventured further, hoping for some mushrooms to add bulk to the brew. Pale gray plates fanned out from a rotting tree stump, and she gathered those. She inspected them carefully for insects before adding them to her collection. She glanced up into the branches above her, hoping to spot a bird’s nest. Some eggs, or even some berries, would make a welcome addition to this most basic of broths.

  She found a nest, but it was empty, and while the berries she spotted were still unripe, she espied something even better. She smiled with anticipated pleasure as she hurried toward the big white splats of lacy elderflowers peeping through the green cover. She cut several and added them to what she’d already gathered, before circling back to the fireplace.

  The pot hung over the fire, steam rising in the cold air, but there was no sign of Edwin. With a sinking feeling, she called softly, remembering to keep her voice pitched low, “Edwin? Where are you?”

  There was no response. “All the more for me, then,” Janna muttered. Carefully laying aside the elderflowers, she threw the mushrooms and plants into the pot and, shivering, stepped closer to the fire to warm herself and dry her clothes. All sympathy for the outlaw had vanished along with him. Beaten by his lord indeed, she thought, as she recalled the scar on his chin. Got that in a fight more like, probably while he was trying to steal from someone else!

  A slight rustle set her fumbling for her knife. She whirled around, frantically trying to recall the moves Edwin had taught her. The eyes. The nose. The neck! She was about to lunge forward and strike when she saw who it was. Wearing a proud grin, Edwin dangled a limp, furry form in front of her nose.

  “Erk! What’s that?” Janna jumped back.

  “A leveret.” He set down the hare and pulled out his knife.

  “But it’s only a baby!”

  “God’s breeches, Janna, it’s food!” Edwin looked proudly at his prize. “It must be ailing or I wouldn’t have caught it.” He began to strip the fur from the small body before cutting it in half. Janna shuddered, but she didn’t stop him when he threw the pieces into the broth. He peered at the boiling mixture, and sniffed suspiciously. “That’s poisonous.” He pointed at the mushrooms.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I don’t eat fungus. It can kill you.”

  “I know. You have to be careful. But these are oyster mushrooms. They’re quite safe.”

  Edwin looked at Janna. “How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?”

  “You don’t,” Janna said cheerfully, “but you don’t have to eat them if you don’t want to. I’m hungry enough to finish them all.” She offered him an elderflower. “Have one.” She stuffed the sweet lacy flower into her mouth and chewed it with relish. Edwin took a cautious bite, looking dubious. Then he licked his lips in appreciation, and quickly scoffed up the rest of it. It seemed he’d decided to trust her after all. Janna smiled to herself as she picked up another flower.

  They ate the pottage with their fingers, taking pleasure and comfort from the hot food. It went some way to settling
the ache of hunger in their stomachs. Even the hare was shared between them, although Janna tried to close her mind against what she was eating as she picked the flesh from the small bones.

  “A feast fit for King Stephen himself,” Edwin commented, licking his fingers.

  Janna pulled a face at him. If Edwin really believed that, he must be truly deluded. But his ready grin showed her that, even if he’d never attended a royal banquet, his imagination was every bit as vivid as her own.

  “Are you ready to leave now?” he asked, when every last morsel was finally eaten. He stood up.

  “You should first break up your shelter,” Janna suggested, “just in case the forester comes this way.”

  “I doubt he will. I’ve never seen him anywhere near here.” But Edwin began to dismantle the branches that had made up his home. Eager to be gone, Janna lent a helping hand by throwing away the flints that marked the fireplace, and scuffing the scorched earth inside the circle to disguise it.

  She picked up a last lump of flint and clay, but it flaked and began to crumble in her hand. It slipped from her grasp so Janna gave it a kick instead. The clod fell apart under the impact of her boot. She was about to walk away when she realized that there was something twisted and misshapen at its center. With quickening interest, she crouched down to examine the remains more carefully.

  It was a small figurine, fashioned from pale clay and baked hard as iron. Janna jumped up and fetched the jug that Edwin had put by. There was still some water in the bottom, and she poured it carefully over the figurine, wiping away the last clods of earth that disfigured it. A mother holding a child came to life in her hands. Janna caught her breath as their features washed clearer. Was this Jesus with the Virgin Mary? Or was this something much, much older? She looked at the little statue, tracing the lines of the mother’s face, the tenderness of her expression as she looked down at her child. A lump came into Janna’s throat as she thought of her own mother. She stole a quick glance at Edwin. He was still busy pulling his shelter apart and hadn’t noticed. Janna opened her purse and placed the figurine carefully inside. It was ancient and precious but, even more important to Janna, holding it had brought some comfort, some ease to her own aching, lonely heart.