Unholy Murder: The Janna Chronicles 3

by Felicity Pulman

  The sister who leaned forward, almost bouncing on her toes as she threw her heart and soul into glorious song, was just as enthusiastic and whole-hearted over everything else she did about the abbey. The nun who sang with hands folded and mouth pursed small, as if begrudging her time and the use to which it was being put, made sure that her disapproval touched everything to which she set her hand. A large nun sitting in the front row of the choir always opened her mouth just a little too early and finished with an extra trill that kept her singing on after the others were silent. As she had the loudest voice, the disharmony was often painful, just as her insistence on always coming first and being the best caused some heartache and muttering among her sisters in their daily lives. There were nuns who sang with serenity and joy, secure in the knowledge that God listened and was pleased. Others sang with unclear words and uncertain notes, reflecting perhaps their own lack of vocation and certainty. Janna, to her intense chagrin, had found she was unable to sing at all, producing only a dry croak as the sum of her efforts.

  She had also come to know those nuns who broke the rules of the abbey in the keeping of pets. Sister Ursel was the only one who kept a mouse, and Janna had yet to make the acquaintance of Chester, for the nun kept him well hidden. But several nuns sheltered small dogs, docile for the most part, with the exception of the bad-tempered brute that had barked at Sister Ursel’s mouse and was universally disliked, except by its owner. Rabbits were quite popular, being simple to feed, silent and easily concealed, but there were also a couple of cats, and one nun kept a squirrel and another a rook with a broken wing. Sister Anne had tended it after being sworn to secrecy, and had made its owner promise to release it into the wild as soon as it was able to fly and fend for itself.

  Janna was sure the abbess knew of the pets but turned a blind eye if she could, as did the prioress and Sister Grace, under whose special care the young oblates and novices came. They were the worst offenders. Janna watched the love and attention they lavished on their animals, and felt sorry that they seemed to know so little of human love and warmth.

  She looked down the nave, where the lay sisters and guests of the abbey stood. It was as well, she thought, that Sister Martha was not part of the nuns’ lives within the confines of the abbey. Janna was sure that hard, self-righteous heart would have no room for furry pets given that there was so little room in it for her companion sisters. She would find much to whine about, should she ever take her final vows and be admitted to the community. Janna doubted even St Edith, with all the miracles she’d performed over the years, would be able to turn that annoying little gnat into a compassionate and glorious butterfly.

  She took a breath of the sweet, scented air, while her thoughts turned to the saint whose life was being celebrated this day. Sister Anne had told Janna the story of St Edith, child of a handfast union between Edgar, King of England, and a woman called Wulfrid. “She may have been a nun, for it is said the lady wore a wimple and veil,” Sister Anne had said, sparking Janna’s interest as she recalled the fate of her own mother. “For certes, she would not consent to live with Edgar. Instead, she retired here to Wiltune with her baby daughter, Edith, who grew up devout and learned. Edith received the veil from the Bishop of Winchestre when still only a child, and she built the church of St Denis here at Wiltune, which was consecrated by St Dunstan. She died shortly afterwards, aged only twenty-three. But miracles were already happening in her name, and they continue still.”

  Miracles. Janna resolved to say a prayer to St Edith to help her find her father. But Sister Anne was still talking. “This is not the original church. That was built of wood, like the rest of the abbey, but both town and abbey were destroyed by the Danes. Our church was rebuilt in stone by another Edith. She was the wife of the Saxon king, Edward the Confessor. Pilgrims still come to pray to St Edith in the hope of a miracle, but we do have other saints’ relics here too.”

  “Here? Where?” Janna had looked around the infirmary, while Sister Anne smiled at her innocence.

  “Our precious relics are all kept safely in their own small chapels in the church,” she said, and had gone on to tell Janna of a group of weary pilgrims from Brittany who had once visited the abbey, bearing the bones of a saint called Ywi. “They laid the bones on the altar before retiring to bed,” she said. “In the morning, when they came to continue their journey, the casket bearing the bones was so heavy they could not lift it; it seemed stuck fast to the altar. Try as they might to shift the saint, he could not be budged.” Janna was about to laugh, until she realized that the nun was in deadly earnest and that the story was not yet over.

  “Our abbess expressed her regret, and did all she could to assist the pilgrims to lift the casket bearing the saint’s bones, but he would not move. At last, accepting that the saint had decided to make his home here at Wiltune, the abbess had to give a large offering to compensate the pilgrims for their loss, and the saint stayed with us.”

  “Was that Abbess Hawise?” Janna asked, with an innocent expression.

  Sister Anne gave a sly smile. “No, fortunately it was not, or the pilgrims might have been forced to take both casket and altar with them on their journey. Our abbess does not give away money lightly, not even for the relics of saints.”

  Janna looked now toward the small chapel where the bones of their saint reposed in her reliquary. The altar was usually illuminated by cresset candles, hollowed stone bowls, each filled with mutton fat and a floating wick. Under the care of the sacristan, they burned day and night and were never allowed to splutter out and leave the saint in darkness. There were extra candles today, and the shrine looked magnificent. The golden casket was decorated with flowers; the colors glowed in the soft candlelight. Propped against the walls were a multitude of discarded crutches, testimony to the healing powers of the saint. The chapel was opened daily to the pilgrims who came to kneel in devout prayer, asking for the saint’s intercession in their lives. It would be crammed later with a press of eager bodies, all willing to make a donation for the privilege. But for now the space in front of the saint’s altar was empty for everyone was in church, giving thanks for the day and for the saint’s life and, no doubt, also eagerly anticipating the delights of the fair.

  The priest concluded the Mass and the nuns began to file out. Janna, as befitting her humble status, came last after the novices and oblates. In the few minutes it took to walk into chapter, she put her request to Sister Anne. “May I come with you to the fair?” she asked.

  When Sister Anne did not immediately reply, she pressed further. “I know, as well as you, what is in our lotions and ointments so I can help you tell people what is in them and give advice as to their use. Besides, my mother and I used to make up goods for sale so I have experience in the marketmede. I will get the best price for everything, I promise you!”

  Sister Anne’s expression turned from doubtful to extremely wary. “We do not haggle,” she said severely. “Remember, we are about God’s work here.”

  Janna was sure that she had won. She could not hide her delighted smile. “Wouldn’t Mother Abbess be delighted to know that God’s work doesn’t come cheap?”

  “Be careful you don’t let your tongue run away with you lest I change my mind,” Sister Anne warned, but her tone was more indulgent than her words. “Could our good Sister Agnes come too?” Janna pleaded, knowing she was testing the infirmarian, who might think she hadn’t heeded her warning. But this was something that must be settled before chapter. “Sister Agnes knows something of our work and, besides, she’ll provide an extra pair of hands when we’re rushed off our feet with eager customers.”

  Sister Anne gave a chuckle deep in her throat. “Your enthusiasm does you credit, Johanna. Just take care that it does not carry you away altogether.” Janna was so delighted she could have hugged the nun. She took a few dancing steps instead, then hurriedly straightened her face along with her habit as they walked side by side into chapter.

  *

  Both Agnes
and Janna were hard put to hide their excitement as they stepped sedately beside Sister Anne past the porteress’s lodge, out through the abbey gates and on to the marketmede, where trading had already begun. Janna looked around, happy beyond measure to be outside the confines of the abbey. “I expect we’ll see Master Will supervising the abbey’s business here at the fair,” she commented. She chided herself for mentioning something that was none of her affair, but she was curious to know how things stood between her friend and the bailiff.

  “Do you think he’ll be here?” Agnes’s ready smile flashed. Her eyes sparkled with joy.

  “I do believe you care for him!” Janna instantly regretted her words when the look of surprise on Agnes’s face turned to a hostile wariness.

  “No, you’re wrong. I don’t care for him at all! My life is here at the abbey. I already told you that.” Agnes quickened her pace to catch up with Sister Anne. Janna hurried after them, silently berating herself for her insensitive meddling. She could find no excuse for it at all.

  Crowds swirled around them as they reached the heart of the fair. Janna glanced about, hoping she might see Hugh or Godric. She became aware that Agnes had dropped back to walk beside her. Agnes had pulled down the front of her veil and was busy rearranging the folds of her wimple to cover most of her face. She felt a pang of pity as Agnes whispered, ‘Did you see how that merchant and his family turned their eyes from me when they saw my disfigurement?”

  “Who? Where?” Janna had noticed no such thing.

  “There.” Agnes pointed at a small group of people clustered around a young man who was busy juggling balls, keeping five of them in the air at once.

  “Perhaps they turned their eyes to watch the juggler?”

  “I saw the look of horror on their faces before they turned away,” Agnes insisted. Her steps had slowed. There was an expression of sorrowful bewilderment on her face. “I can’t see how I look, and so I forget,” she said. “Inside I feel whole, and joyful.”

  “And that happiness and serenity is reflected on your face,” Janna reassured her. “Yes, people might stare, but only for a moment, and certainly not after they come to know you, Agnes.”

  “Look over there! That woman’s pointing at me, and her little girl is laughing.”

  “The woman is pointing at the juggler, Agnes, and her little girl is laughing with excitement.”

  “No, you are mistaken. They’re looking at me,” Agnes insisted. Janna shrugged. She was sure Agnes was being too sensitive to people’s stares and too quick to attribute them to her disfigurement, but she didn’t know how to change her friend’s perception of the situation.

  “I’m known in the abbey. I’m not known here. It frightens me to see people staring so.” Agnes hurried to catch up with Sister Anne who was striding ahead of them.

  “May I have your permission to return to the abbey, Sister? I’m not feeling well.” Agnes spoke before Janna could say anything. The infirmarian turned to them, an expression of concern on her face. Janna hoped she’d insist that Agnes stay, for she was sure part of the girl’s insecurity stemmed from the fact that she’d never been beyond the abbey’s protection since she’d been burnt as a small child. Perhaps the time to break those bounds was badly chosen, Janna acknowledged now. After the quiet and ordered calm of the abbey, this must look like bedlam. She surveyed the crowded fairground. The hustle and bustle of merchants, traders and chapmen calling out their wares and customers bargaining over goods was punctuated by screaming children, barking dogs and the bellows, neighs, grunts, cackles and cluckings from the animal and poultry markets set in their own portion of the meadow. All these sights, sounds and smells excited Janna. The fragrance of hot pies, the sharp tang of fish and the sweet aromas from the spice merchants set her head reeling with delighted anticipation. She glanced at Agnes and wished she’d considered this outing more carefully, and that she’d never spoken of the bailiff. If Agnes was frightened away now, it would take a lot of coaxing to entice her ever to leave the abbey again.

  “Stay!” Janna begged. “Please.”

  Agnes flashed her a look of hopeless longing, then turned to Sister Anne to await her verdict. “It is your decision,” Sister Anne said quietly. “Only you can know which is the right path for you to take.”

  In those words, Janna realized that the infirmarian shared her doubts about the real reason for Agnes’s request but knew also that, for the infirmarian, a lifetime spent inside the abbey walls was not a penance but a preferred way of living. Having given Agnes an opportunity to glimpse the world outside, she was now making Agnes choose, and take responsibility for her choice.

  Agnes hesitated, while Janna held her breath. Also at stake was the probability that she would be ordered to escort Agnes back to the abbey. Her day at the fair was at risk.

  The moment was broken by the bailiff. He strode up to them, stuffing a handful of coins into a bulging leather satchel. “I give you good day, Sisters,” he said. “God be with you.” Janna noticed his gaze fall on Agnes, who flushed and turned away, pulling her wimple higher to hide her face.

  “God be with you too, Master Will,” Sister Anne returned his greeting. “The abbey is doing well out of the fees and tolls, I see,” she said, indicating the satchel at his waist.

  “Indeed. We have a record number of booths and stalls set up this year,” the bailiff said with satisfaction. “’Tis fortunate that the troubles ’tween the king and his cousin have not come near enough to interfere with the harvest this year, or with those who are willing to chance the roads to sell their goods.”

  He smiled at Agnes before turning to address Sister Anne. “Let me escort you to the stalls where the abbey’s goods are on display. Of course the steward will be on hand to oversee everything, while I and my deputy are available to trade on your behalf, should you wish it. But I know you take pride in your salves and medicaments, Sister, and I am sure those buying them will want to consult you regarding their properties.”

  It was only as they followed the bailiff through the crowded fair that Janna missed Agnes, and realized that she had made her choice and slipped away. Relief that she was still free to enjoy the day mingled with shame as she blamed herself for not choosing a more propitious moment to introduce Agnes to the world outside, and also for calling attention to her friendship with the bailiff. She could not shake off the feeling that something important had been lost. She’d witnessed Agnes’s fear and disappointment, seen the light of joy die in her eyes, and she knew it was all her fault.

  She wished she had a coin to buy Agnes some little trinket from the fair by way of reparation. The brightness and glamor had gone from the day. Subdued, she took her place beside Sister Anne at the stall, and looked out upon the fair with none of her former relish.

  Her interest was pricked as she espied a youth whistling nonchalantly as he jostled through the throng. Something about him seemed ajar, and Janna watched as he brushed against a richly dressed merchant. A knife flashed and, just as Janna imagined the worst and opened her mouth to sound the alarm, the youth turned away and the merchant sauntered on. No quarrels and no blood shed then. Janna relaxed once more, only to prick with alarm as the merchant held up the cut cord of his purse and gave a loud shout: “Help! I’ve been robbed! Stop! Thief!”

  At once she looked about for the young cutpurse but he had gone, melted into the crowd just as snow becomes water in a swiftly flowing river. Although the steward had appointed guards to patrol the fairground and keep a constant lookout for wrongdoers, Janna suspected the youth was probably one of many pickpockets and thieves who would try to turn a dishonest profit this day. She touched the slight bulge of her purse underneath her habit, glad it was hidden from prying eyes. More precious than anything were these few relics from her mother, and her father’s letter. She would do all in her power to keep them safe.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a haughty request for information. Sister Anne was busy with another customer, and so Janna answered the dame�
��s questions about the cream she was holding. “It’s perfumed with violets,” she said. “You may rub some on your skin every evening. It will do wonders for your complexion.” Janna lowered her voice so that the nun couldn’t hear. “And the perfume will encourage your husband’s attention.”

  The woman gave her a startled glance and Janna grinned until, recollecting her new status, she settled her face into a more decorous expression. Judging the dame’s worth from the rich fabric of her clothes and the gold band that kept her veil in place, she set a high fee on the cream and the woman paid for two jars of it. “And may I interest you in my special hair powders and rinses?” Janna continued, made bold by her success. She looked at the greasy locks of hair escaping from the confines of the woman’s veil. “They’re made from lemons and sunturners to add freshness and sunlight to your hair,” she said persuasively.

  “Sunturners?”

  “Marigolds.” Sister Anne had told Janna their real name, but Janna preferred the old name that described the way the flowers always turned their golden faces toward the sun.

  “Remember, no haggling, Johanna,” Sister Anne muttered as she reached across her to pick up a jar..

  Janna bobbed her head obediently, and this time set a slightly lower price.

  “I’ll take one,” the dame agreed, and unlaced her purse once more.

  “And I’ll take two,” said a merchant’s wife standing beside her. Janna felt a sense of satisfaction. This was honest trade, not haggling. She knew the worth of her preparations. The women would benefit from their use; they would not feel cheated.