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 more popular, being simple to feed, silent and easily concealed, but there were 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 she 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 stood the lay sisters and guests of the abbey. 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 ever 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 here 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 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. 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 realised 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 money lightly, not even for the relics of saints.'
Janna looked now towards 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 colours 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, and it would be crammed later with a press of eager bodies. 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 in a line. 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 marketplace. 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 knew 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 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 walked 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 about her, happy beyond measure to be outside the confines of the abbey. 'I expect we'll see Master Will busy about the abbey's business here at the fair,' she commented. She chided herself for poking her nose into something that was none of her business, 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 out. Her eyes sparkled with joy.
'I do believe you care for him!' Janna instantly regretted prying into her friend's private life 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. Excited, Janna glanced about, anxious for a possible sighting of Hugh
or Godric. She became aware that Agnes had dropped back to walk beside her, and 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?' She realised that Agnes had pulled down the front of her veil and was busy rearranging the folds of her wimple to cover most of her face.
'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?' Janna suggested.
'I saw the look of horror on their faces before they turned away,' Agnes insisted. Her steps had slowed. On her face was an expression of sorrowful bewilderment. '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 for a moment, but only until they come to know you, Agnes.'
'Look over there! That woman's pointing at me, and her little girl is laughing.'
'The woman's 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 after Sister Anne who, not having witnessed their conversation or what had caused it, was striding on ahead of them.
'May I have your permission to return to the abbey, Sister? I'm not feeling well.' Agnes's words were out 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. But perhaps this wasn't the best time to break those bounds, Janna acknowledged. 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, wives bargaining over goods, screaming children and barking dogs mingled with the bellows, neighs, grunts, cackles and cluckings from the animal and poultry markets set in their own portion of the meadow – all these sights and sounds excited Janna. The stink of animal dung mixed with the fragrance of hot pies, the sharp tang of fish and the sweet aromas from the spice merchants set her head reeling with delight. She glanced at Agnes and wished she'd thought about her impulse more carefully. She wished, even more, that she'd not spoken of the bailiff, had curbed her curiosity and let things take their natural course. If Agnes was frightened away now, it would take a lot of coaxing to entice her ever to leave the abbey again.
'Stay!' Janna said. '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 knew that the infirmarian shared her doubts about the real reason for Agnes's request but realised 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. The moment was broken by the bailiff. He strode up to them, stuffing a handful of coins into a bulging leather satchel as he came. 'I give you good day, Sisters,' he said. 'God be with you.' Janna noticed his gaze fall on Agnes, who flushed and turned away, and pulled her wimple higher to hide her cheek.
'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 continued, 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.'
No-one noticed Agnes slip away as the bailiff continued. '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. 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 marketplace that Janna missed Agnes, and realised that she had made her choice and had gone. Janna blamed herself for not choosing a more opportune moment to introduce Agnes to some freedom and fun. Even more, she blamed herself for calling attention to Agnes's friendship with the bailiff. She had a strong sense that something important had been lost. She had seen Agnes's disappointment, seen the light of joy die in her eyes, and knew it was all her fault. She wished she had a coin to buy Agnes some little trinket from the fair, to lift her spirits. Janna felt suddenly miserable, the brightness and glamour gone from the day. She took her place quietly beside Sister Anne when they came to 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 noticed 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 as snow becomes water in a swiftly flowing river. Janna knew he was just one of the many pickpockets and thieves who would try to turn a dishonest profit this day, even though the steward had appointed guards to patrol the fairground and keep a constant lookout for wrongdoers. 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 anything to keep them safe.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a timid request for information. Sister Anne was busy with another, and so Janna answered the woman'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 the nun couldn't hear. 'And the perfume will encourage your husband's attentions,' she added.
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 woman'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 added persuasively.
'Sunturners?'
'Marigolds.' Sister Anne had told Janna their real name, but Janna preferred Eadgyth's name for the flowers, for the way they always turned their golden faces towards the sun.
'Remember, no haggling, Johanna,' Sister Anne muttered as she passed her by.
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.
&
nbsp; '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.
Well pleased with her venture into business on the abbey's behalf, for she'd had to do some fast talking with Sister Anne in order to gain permission to prepare those creams and rinses which had no medicinal purpose, she handed over the coins to the infirmarian. 'You've done well, Johanna,' Sister Anne murmured. 'I see your years of experience in the marketplace are paying off!'
Janna took some comfort from the nun's words, especially when the nun added, 'I'll make sure to learn the recipes so we can add your special preparations to our stock at next year's fair.' She turned to another customer, this time an elderly whiskered gentleman who wanted something for a gouty leg and an aching back.
Janna and Sister Anne were kept busy for some time thereafter, selling medicaments as well as Janna's preparations for skin and hair, teeth and bad breath, tired limbs and aching feet. As the coins clinked in, Janna's spirits rose. Although she didn't like the abbess, she was happy to think she was contributing something useful towards her new home. It took her another moment or two to recognise the true source of her growing contentment. Dressed as she was, everyone thought she was part of the abbey and treated her with respect. Respect was not something Janna was used to and she relished it, even though she recognised that nothing had changed: inside, she was just the same as she'd always been. But her smile was brighter, her face more cheerful as she undertook to be the best representative the abbey had ever had.
Lilies for Love Page 9
