“But Master Will has a very important task for her to do today!” Janna protested, knowing how much Agnes looked forward to escaping from the confines of the abbey.
“You will allow Sister Agnes to speak for herself!” The abbess turned a fiery glance on Janna. “I know you are new to our community, but you will remember St Benedict’s Rule of Silence, and you will only speak when you are spoken to.” She turned back to Agnes. “What is your task?” she snapped.
“To…to look after the children who follow the reapers and glean the fallen wheat, thus allowing a more able worker than I to take my place.” Agnes waited, with bent head, for the abbess’s decision.
“Very well.” But Abbess Hawise sounded somewhat reluctant. “You may go out to the fields today, to see how well you acquit yourself in your new task. But if you feel you could use your time to better purpose in the abbey, then I expect you to make a proper choice thereafter. Be sure I shall ask you for your decision at chapter tomorrow.”
Janna admired the abbess’s tactics, though was still afraid her friend would listen to her conscience and put duty before pleasure. But Agnes’s care of the children would be genuinely useful; she must urge her friend to say so on the following morn.
The villeins were already hard at work in the fields by the time they came out of chapter, and leaving Agnes to go in search of the children, Janna entered the shed in search of a sickle and a pair of gloves. It was dark after the brightness outside and she waited a moment for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. The door banged shut behind her, cutting off what light there was. Janna jumped at the sound, but before she could hurry to open it, she found herself enveloped in a pair of strong arms.
“I knew if I waited long enough, I’d catch you alone,” Mus murmured.
Janna was about to lash out but realized she was powerless in his grip. Fighting panic, she forced herself to relax. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice made husky with fear.
His grip tightened. He gave a short laugh. “You know what I want,” he said, and kissed her, pulling her close so that she could feel his hard arousal.
Janna was sure his goal wasn’t seduction, not if he was Robert’s man. But it seemed he wasn’t averse to satisfying his lust before he carried out Robert’s instructions. As he clamped one hand on her breast, she noticed the gleam of a scythe over his shoulder, one of several stacked close to the door. If she could only maneuver him a little closer, it would make a good weapon. She softened into his embrace and forced herself to give him an exploratory feel. “Perhaps I’ve misjudged you,” she said, as his grip tightened on her breast. She tried to shift toward the door, but he held his ground, keeping her close, pressing himself against her. She closed her eyes to think, to make a plan. His tongue pushed into her mouth. Janna tried not to gag, tried even harder not to bite down. Deliberately, she pushed herself against him, and rubbed her hips against his. She heard the hiss of his breath. He clamped his mouth more firmly on hers, while his hand moved down to loosen his breeches.
Shaking with fear, Janna managed to give a small giggle. “I can’t breathe properly, Mus,” she protested, and pulled away from him. Not giving him a chance to respond, she forked two fingers and jabbed forward, throwing all her weight into the action, aiming straight for his eyes. As he howled in protest, she flattened her hand into a blade and slammed it against his neck. For good measure, she hitched up her habit and gave him a hard kick in the bollocks. Leaving him doubled over in pain, she flung open the door and raced across to the bailiff.
“Help!” she shouted. “Help! I’ve been attacked!”
Everyone came running, the bailiff leading the charge. He marched into the shed, grabbed Mus and yanked him upright. A big, thickset man, he was more than a match for Mus and he shook him as a dog shakes a rat. “Is this the man, Sister?” he asked, while Mus fumbled with the tie of his breeches. Janna nodded.
“Do you know him? Have you met this man before?”
Janna hesitated. “The first time I ever spoke to him was here, out in the field,” she said truthfully.
“Who are you?” This time the bailiff addressed Mus, who stayed silent.
“He told me his name is Alan, but he’s called Mus,” Janna said helpfully.
Mus glared at her. “She enticed me here. She begged me to come. I thought I’d oblige her, that’s all.”
“Liar!” Janna’s fists clenched; she was white hot with rage. “I believe this man to be in the employ of Dame Alice’s husband, Robert of Babestoche. He has come here under false pretenses,” she said. If she couldn’t make Robert pay for his crimes, she’d make sure she brought his servant to account.
Mus’s scowl was so venomous, it spurred Janna on. “May I suggest you search his scrip, Master Will,” she said, her suggestion not wholly motivated by spite. She was genuinely curious to know the full extent of Mus’s intentions toward her. She noticed the flash of fear on his face, and her suspicion was confirmed as the bailiff extracted a long, thin cord from the scrip. Janna pictured it circling her neck, strangling tighter and tighter, and shuddered.
“What is this for?” the bailiff asked sternly, dangling the cord in front of Mus.
“It’s to catch…animals.”
“With two or four legs?” The bailiff looked from Mus to Janna. “I believe you’ve had a very lucky escape,” he told her.
Janna felt a slight easing of tension. So he understood Mus’s true purpose.
The bailiff switched his attention back to Mus. “I am sending you back, under guard, to your master. He can deal with you.”
“No!” Janna protested, for Robert would surely let Mus go free to come back and try again. She thought quickly. “Master Will, as I am under the protection of the abbey, should not the abbess be called upon to pass judgment on this matter?”
“You are right.” The bailiff nodded in agreement. “The abbess must certainly be told what has occurred this day—and also apprised of the full extent of the harm that was intended.”
Janna felt cold to her soul. She began to shake. But she knew also a great sense of triumph for, whatever happened now, the abbess would not allow Mus to go unpunished, no matter what Robert might say in his defense. After today, the abbess might also understand her own desire for protection, even if she was unable to spell out the reasons behind it.
She watched as the bailiff tied Mus’s hands together, using his own strangling cord to do so. Two sturdy villeins marched Mus off in the direction of the abbey. Janna lingered by the shed to watch them go. Great shivers still racked her body. She crossed her arms over her breast and held on tight, fighting for control.
“Janna! Are you all right?” Agnes hurried up, pushing through the crowd to reach Janna’s side. “What’s happened?”
“The rest of you—go back to work,” the bailiff shouted, nodding to let Janna and Agnes know they might stay for some moments of privacy. As Janna recounted what had taken place, although not the main reason behind Mus’s actions, she felt some relief: putting what had happened into words took away some of its horror.
“But how did you manage to escape?” Agnes’s mouth was open in wonder.
“My friend Edwin taught me how to defend myself.” Janna felt a flood of gratitude as she recalled how the outlaw had insisted she learn the moves that would keep her safe while she was living disguised as a youth. “I was hiding in the forest,” she said, and went on to tell Agnes how she’d had to flee when her home was burnt to the ground, and how she’d met Edwin. “He showed me what to do.”
“And I thank God and all His angels for it,” Agnes said devoutly. “Truly He was looking after you today, Janna.”
Or I was looking after myself? But Janna didn’t put her thought into words.
“Do you want to go back to the abbey now, to rest?” Agnes asked.
“And miss our wonderful dinner and the chance to talk without being bound by the vow of silence?” Janna managed a shaky smile. “The danger has passed, and I have wor
k to do. But what about you? Surely you don’t want to go back?”
“No, I don’t.” Agnes sounded troubled as they walked toward the workers busy laboring in the field. “But the abbess is right. I cannot, in all conscience, believe that my work here is more important than God’s work in the abbey.”
“Surely all work is equally important in God’s eyes?” Janna knew how badly Agnes wanted to continue taking part in the harvest activities. “Laborare est orare, isn’t that what you said?”
“To work is to pray. Yes, I know, but this—” Agnes threw out a hand to encompass the golden wheat and the chalk downs beyond, “—this feels like an indulgence. The children are an indulgence. I so enjoy their company, looking after them, seeing to their hurts, their scraped knees, their small squabbles and rivalry…”
“Aren’t you allowed to enjoy the work you’re doing?” Janna wasn’t being mischievous, she was genuinely curious. To her surprise, Agnes’s face flushed a guilty red.
“Tomorrow I will stay in the abbey,” she said firmly, and rushed to pick up a toddler who, determined to keep up with her older sibling, had run too fast and come tumbling down. She was squalling loudly, but Agnes sat down with her, took her onto her knee and told her a story. The child’s cries quietened; she listened intently. And Janna watched them, and wondered if this was the bailiff’s youngest, who still cried for her mother in the night.
*
As it turned out, they were both told to stay in the abbey the following day. The attack on Janna had caused a great stir and the abbey buzzed like a hive of bees as everyone discussed what had happened in whispers and out of the corners of their mouths. From the glances that came her way, Janna surmised that some suspected she’d brought her troubles upon herself.
With Sister Grace and Sister Anne in attendance, the prioress summoned her to give a detailed account of what had happened. While Janna felt shame as she described how she’d gulled Mus into believing she welcomed his attention, she felt no regret over what she’d done next. She knew, only too well, why he’d carried the plaited cord, and she told the nuns that too.
“But why do you think he planned to murder you after he’d ravished you?” Sister Anne asked.
Janna couldn’t answer, for the answer wasn’t hers to give. It would mean betraying a secret that went right back to the death of her mother. So she stayed silent.
“You came to the abbey seeking sanctuary. Did you fear something like this might happen?” the prioress questioned.
“Yes.”
The prioress waited for further explanation. When none was forthcoming she rose, indicating that the interview was over. “We shall do our best to keep you safe,” she said. “Whatever the man’s motive, you have no more reason to fear him. We have him locked away and have sent word to his master of his misdeeds.” Janna was about to protest in dismay, but the prioress forestalled her. “I have ensured that the message is handed to Dame Alice, for she is the man’s liege lord and must take responsibility for his actions.”
Her words eased Janna’s concern. Dame Alice was no fool. She would not allow Robert to be lenient on Mus, not when she realized whom Mus had attacked. Perhaps Hugh would be there too, to lend his weight to the argument? Janna felt great warmth and comfort as she thought of Hugh.
The matter was also aired at chapter, after Sister Martha complained that the new lay sister had behaved in an unseemly fashion.
“Could you explain what you mean?” the prioress asked, with barely concealed impatience.
Janna listened, open-mouthed, as the gnat tried to justify her complaint with the observation that, although an attack had been attempted, the attacker appeared to have come off worst in the encounter. “I am not sure what measures our new lay sister adopted to get the better of him,” Sister Martha said virtuously, “but I wonder that someone with such…knowledge…should be made welcome in our abbey.”
Janna was about to launch into a fiery defense of her actions, but the prioress got in first. “We may all be thankful that our new lay sister was able, so courageously, to defend herself and her honor.” She stressed the last word, and paused so that all might ponder its meaning. “Should you ever find yourself in like situation, Sister Martha, and I pray to God that none of us ever do, you would do well to defend yourself just as vigorously as Sister Johanna has done.” Not giving Sister Martha any further opportunity to complain, she said a final prayer and swept out of the room.
*
“To keep you safe.” The prioress’s words echoed in Janna’s mind through the long days that followed. “To keep you prisoner” was what the words really meant, even if that wasn’t the prioress’s intention. Janna was becoming used to living her life by the bells that summoned the sisters to church and the rules that governed when to eat, to sleep, and to work. She was becoming used to the life, but not enjoying it, confined as she was within the abbey walls. Even the usually cheerful Agnes moped about, doing her chores with grim determination coupled with a virtuous expression. Janna knew her friend hankered to be out of doors with the children, just as she herself yearned for the same freedom.
Whenever they could, the pair volunteered to help care for the garden. There was always digging, weeding or watering of plants to keep them occupied, so that at least some of their time could be spent outdoors. Janna continued to instruct Agnes about the plants in the physic garden: their appearance and their various properties, both culinary and medicinal. Sometimes they encountered the infirmarian, picking leaves and flowers or digging roots for medicaments. As she always greeted them and seemed willing to talk and ask questions, Janna took the opportunity to ask questions of her own about those plants she hadn’t seen before. Acquiring information and passing on her knowledge to Agnes helped ease the frustration of knowing that she was no nearer to accomplishing her main reason for coming to the abbey: to learn to read and write. She would willingly have put up with everything else if only that came within her grasp.
By a stroke of ill-luck for Sister Anne, and the best of luck for Janna, the infirmarian sliced her finger open one morning while sawing at a tough root. The finger became infected, the infection spread and Sister Anne was suffering real discomfort and disability by the time she finally spoke out in chapter.
“I am unable to care properly for my patients,” she said, and held up her bandaged hand for all to see. “I need help in the infirmary. But there’s an added burden, for as you know we are about to celebrate the life of our patron saint, Edith, at our annual fair. It is our custom to sell some of our goods there, including our own special salves and medicaments. While I still have sufficient for our own needs, I need help to prepare an extra supply for sale at the fair.” She looked about the assembled convent, and her gaze rested thoughtfully on Janna. “It has come to my notice that we have a new lay sister who is skilled in the use of herbs, knows well their healing properties, and knows also how to prepare them. I crave the abbey’s indulgence for my weakness, and ask that Sister Johanna may be given permission to live within the convent for a time. She can sleep in the infirmary and help me look after those who are sick, while also helping me prepare for the fair.”
All eyes swiveled to Janna. It took a moment or two for her to comprehend what she was being offered, and then her heart swelled with joy at the opportunity being handed to her. Yet, from the abbess, there was silence. She seemed to be deep in thought. Janna’s hands clenched. She couldn’t bear it if, having been offered the chance to put her plan into action, permission was now to be denied.
“Our new lay sister’s mother was the wortwyf, Eadgyth,” the abbess said finally. There was a collective indrawing of breath. Many of the nuns remembered that a Mass had been said for her soul—and for the soul of her daughter. Janna wondered how many of her secrets the abbess would divulge, and chafed under the knowledge that she was powerless to stop her.
“It became known to me that Mistress Eadgyth did not always follow the teaching of our Lord, Jesus Christ—but I am told
she was a skillful healer. Has she taught you all she knew, Sister Johanna?”
Unsure how to answer, Janna was silent. Part of her mother’s estrangement from the Church came from the help she had sometimes given to those women who, for compelling reasons, begged her to provoke their courses and prevent a baby coming to term. If she said yes, the abbess would know Janna possessed such knowledge, and might change her mind about allowing her to live within the convent. If she said no, the abbess would think her unskilled and deny her this chance. She cast a glance of mute appeal at Sister Anne.
“I see modesty prevents Sister Johanna from answering your question, Mother,” the infirmarian said smoothly. “However, I have questioned her in the past, and also answered her questions. I am sure that she knows enough to be of great help to me, and that she has the sort of lively and enquiring mind that will enable me to teach her anything she yet needs to know.”
The abbess nodded. “Very well.”
Janna released a silent breath of relief. She was filled with exultation: to use the knowledge her mother had taught her, to have the freedom of the garden and, best of all, to have time with the infirmarian to learn to read and write—it seemed all her prayers had been answered at once. Excited, she turned to Agnes to share her good fortune, and read the desolation on her friend’s face. Janna’s exhilaration died as quickly as it had been born. She’d got what she wanted—but it had come at a price.
“We’ll still be able to see each other,” she whispered, as soon as attention had moved elsewhere and it was safe to talk.
“Of course we will.” Janna could see Agnes was making a huge effort to look happy, to be glad for her. “But I shall really miss you,” she added honestly.
“I’ll miss you too.” Janna brightened. “If I told Sister Anne how much you already know, maybe she can ask for you to come in and help us?” Agnes’s smile flashed bright as the sun after a storm cloud had passed. “I’ll do my best, anyway,” Janna promised.
Unholy Murder: The Janna Chronicles 3 Page 7
