Janna Mysteries 1 & 2 Bindup

by Felicity Pulman

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

  ‘He won’t. 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 realised that there was something twisted and misshapen in its centre. 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.

  ‘Now are you ready?’ Edwin demanded as he walked over to her and picked up the sword. He handed Janna the staff she had carried, and raised an enquiring eyebrow.

  ‘That’s my sword. I found it,’ Janna said indignantly.

  ‘Do you know how to use a sword?’ He made no effort to hand it over.

  ‘Do you?’ she challenged, and snatched it from him.

  ‘Some of us villeins used to practise our fighting skills against each other. We’d talk of cracking our lord over the head to pay him back for all the beatings he gave us. But we had no swords to practise with, only stout sticks.’

  ‘Then here’s a stout stick for you.’ Janna handed over her staff, then stepped aside and waited for him to pick up the pot and jug. ‘Where did you get those?’ She pointed at them.

  He looked away and didn’t reply, instead setting off towards the clearing. Janna didn’t need to be told that he’d probably stolen them. But who was she to judge, when they might well have made the difference to his survival, she thought, as she began to walk after him, consciously imitating the easy swing of his stride.

  ‘We need to make up some story to tell, once we come to a village or town.’ She addressed her remark to his back. ‘If we’re going to be Welsh, perhaps we should call ourselves something other than Edwin and John.’

  ‘It’s too hard. Complicated. What if we forget and don’t answer when people talk to us?’ Edwin threw the question over his shoulder without checking his stride.

  Janna thought for a moment. ‘Could our mother have been Saxon, wed to a Welshman?’

  ‘Good idea. It might also explain why we don’t speak as the Welsh do.’ Edwin turned, flashing his easy smile at her. Janna found herself smiling back at him. She began to relax, rolling her shoulders to ease tight muscles. The past few days had taken their toll.

  ‘And where are we bound?’ Edwin asked.

  Janna shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she confessed. ‘I can’t read my father’s letter, so I don’t know where to start looking for him.’

  ‘What about Winchestre?’

  ‘Why there? What about London?’

  ‘Winchestre is the royal city where the Treasury is kept. If the king isn’t in Winchestre, people will know where he’s gone.’ He looked back to make sure she understood him. Seeing her look of incomprehension, he continued impatiently, ‘You said your father was wealthy and important. If you don’t know where your father’s manor is, surely your best hope is to find him through the king?’

  Excitement blazed across Janna’s face. ‘I didn’t think of that!’ She touched the purse hanging from her girdle, feeling the shape of the folded parchment through the rough woven fabric. Winchestre! It was worth a try. It was an added comfort that Edwin seemed to be trying to help her. But she couldn’t afford to lower her guard, she reminded herself. He’d been living wild in the forest, putting his own interests before anything else. She must take care never to come between him and his freedom when they came to a town or village, for she might well pay too high a price if she was careless.

  ‘DO YOU KNOW the road to royal Winchestre?’ Janna asked, as they came once more to the forest clearing where she’d spent the night.

  ‘No. Do you?’

  Janna shook her head. ‘But once we reach a village we’ll look for someone who knows the way.’

  ‘First we have to get through to the other side of the forest. Which way should we go?’ Edwin asked, coming back to a more basic question.

  Janna shook her head once more. ‘I was hoping you knew how to find the path,’ she said. ‘I don’t even know which direction I’ve come from.’

  Edwin laughed. ‘You came from over there,’ he said, and pointed.

  ‘Then we must keep walking this way.’ Janna pointed in the opposite direction.

  As they skirted the shallow dew pond, a smile twitched Janna’s mouth. Reaching out, she gave Edwin a hard push.

  ‘Hey!’ he yelled as he slid down into the icy water.

  ‘You saw me having a wash, so now it’s my turn!’ Janna retorted, and began to laugh as she noticed Edwin’s horrified expression. ‘Go on,’ she encouraged. ‘If you clean up the scratches on your cheek, I’ll find some herbs to help them heal.’

  ‘But I don’t want to be clean!’ Edwin protested. ‘I put the mud on my face and clothes so I can blend into the shadows when the forester comes along.’

  ‘Oh.’ That made sense to Janna. ‘But we’re walking out of the forest now, so you won’t need to hide for too much longer,’ she pointed out. ‘If you’re really dirty, people will notice you, and they’ll talk about us. You’d better clean yourself up, Edwin.’ She flashed a wicked grin. ‘I’ll wash your back, if you like?’

  ‘You’ll turn around, and not look again until I say so,’ he contradicted firmly.

  Smiling, Janna complied.

  ‘So what will you do when we get to Winchestre?’ Edwin asked. Soft splashings told Janna that he was profitably occupied.

  ‘I’ll ask around, see if anyone can help me find my father.’ Ready to fulfil her promise to Edwin, Janna began to wander about, keeping a lookout for pink flowering betony, mallow, strong-smelling yarrow, or the creamy flowers of wood sanicle.

  ‘You need to find someone who can read,’ Edwin pointed out.

  The thought of a stranger reading her father’s letter made Janna uneasy. Her mother had gone to such lengths to protect the secret of her birth. She risked setting her father against her for all time if private, maybe even dangerous, information about his liaison with Janna’s mother became known to others.

  ‘I just thought of something else,’ Edwin continued. ‘Does your father support the king or his cousin Matilda in their battle over the crown?’

  ‘I know not,’ Janna admitted. She spied the bright yellow flowers of ragwort and stopped to pluck some sprigs, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell from the bruised leaves. But it made for a good cleanser and healer, as did the hairy Herb Robert growing nearby.

  ‘If he is of fighting age, your father may not be in Winchestre at all,’ Edwin warned. ‘Not only does King Stephen wage war against his cousin and her half-brother, Robert of Gloucester, but he’s also having to fight his barons, to keep them under control. They’re using this time of unrest to grab more land, they’re becoming too powerful. Maybe your f
ather is one of them, Ja … John?’

  Janna straightened slowly, feeling discouraged as the difficulties of her search became apparent to her. ‘I have to start looking somewhere. Winchestre seems as good a place as any.’ She stayed silent for a few moments, lost in thought. Coming back to the present with a start, she asked, ‘How do you know all this if you’ve been hiding here in Gravelinges?’

  ‘I follow the travellers, I listen to them talking.’

  ‘Just like you followed me?’

  Edwin suddenly stopped splashing. ‘Yes,’ he admitted after a pause. ‘I was desperate, you see. I planned to surprise you, to fell you with a blow and rob you of whatever you carried. Then I suspected you might actually be a girl. I was curious, and so I stayed hidden to see who you were and what you did.’

  ‘And last night?’

  ‘I kept watch over you.’ The splashing started up again.

  Janna gave a snort of disbelief. She raised her voice so as to be heard over the noise of the youth’s ablutions. ‘You were hoping I’d fall out of that tree and break my neck, so you could rob me without blame!’

  ‘No!’ he protested. ‘I wondered why you were in the forest by yourself. That’s all.’

  Janna wondered how far she could trust him. ‘Hurry up,’ she said gruffly. ‘I certainly don’t want to spend another night out here.’ With you. The words remained unsaid, but she didn’t care if Edwin understood her true meaning.

  Yet in spite of everything, her lips curved into a smile as he said cheerfully, ‘You’ve only had one night in the forest. I’ve had days, weeks, months out here! I was even beginning to talk to the trees and the birds and the animals. Imagine!’

  Janna could. After all, she used to talk to the hens and goats she and her mother kept on their small plot of land. Even the bees in their hives used to get a daily update on what was happening in their lives. She could quite understand how a lonely youth might find comfort in pouring out his troubles to something that would neither judge him nor give him a harsh reply. In fact, she fancied Edwin might have had little in the way of warmth and companionship even before he came into the forest.

  ‘You’ve heard all about me, but you haven’t told me much about yourself,’ Janna commented, as he emerged from the pool. His skin was clean now, and the marks from her nails showed clearly. Janna pulled a regretful face over the damage she’d done.

  ‘Phwoar!’ Edwin’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he smelled the ragwort. But he stood quietly until Janna had finished spreading the astringent juice over the scratches on his cheek. He was shivering in his wet clothes.

  ‘Why don’t you take off your tunic and squeeze out the water?’ she suggested.

  He nodded, and did as he was bid. Janna drew breath in a shocked gasp. His back was marked and criss-crossed with scars from old beatings. Some were still not quite healed and looked red and painful. ‘Come here,’ she said. She made Edwin bend over so she could examine the wounds more closely. With a gentle touch, she used the remains of the ragwort to cleanse the worst of them. ‘I’m not surprised you ran away,’ she said, as he pulled on his tunic once more.

  ‘Like I said, he was a vicious old devil.’ Edwin began to step around the clearing, examining it carefully for signs of the path they should follow.

  ‘So where does this vicious old devil live? Where have you come from?’ Janna prompted, curious to know more.

  ‘He has a manor near Tantone in Somer Shire. I walked for many miles, for it was in my mind to seek work in Winchestre, or even in London. Then I became lost in this forest. I decided to hide here until my time was up for by then I’d realised that my lord had sent his servants in pursuit of me.’

  ‘Why did he do that? Why did he bother?’ Janna didn’t mean to disparage Edwin, but she was genuinely curious to know the answer. Certain it was that a lord would pursue a missing serf, but the chase would not last long, especially if the serf was as poor and as lowly as Edwin appeared to be.

  ‘He is miserly as well as vicious. He guards what is his and holds on to it far beyond reason. Everyone on his manor has cause to hate and fear him, for everyone has been called to account for some act of carelessness, some slight or misdeed, some imagined oversight. We have all been punished, even when we were not guilty. Walter of Crice will not listen to any explanation or any excuse but takes the whip to all, even to his own wife and children, so it is said. In truth, I think he goes out of his way to find reason for punishment, for he seems happy only when he’s causing misery for someone else.’

  Janna was silenced by the bleak picture he painted. Yet her imagination couldn’t leave it alone; she was sure he hadn’t told her the full story. ‘Were you accused of something? Is that what made you run away?’ she persisted.

  Edwin looked up abruptly, abandoning his search for the path. A wash of colour swept over his face. ‘My lord’s favourite steed went missing, and I was held to blame for it.’ His voice was harsh, bitter with hatred as he made the confession.

  Was that guilt or indignation that stained his countenance? ‘And did you steal his horse?’ Although Janna kept her voice carefully neutral, both of them knew that Edwin was guilty of one theft at least.

  ‘Of course I did not!’ he flashed. ‘Do you see it here? I would have kept it if I’d stolen it! And I would have ridden to the far end of the kingdom to escape that devil.’ He cast his eyes downward, his face set in sullen lines as he began to search once more for any faint signs of a way out of the forest.

  Janna berated herself for asking such a stupid question. Yet the thought still troubled her: what if the horse had gone lame? Edwin might well have had to abandon it somewhere. ‘If you didn’t take it, then who did?’ she asked, anxious to understand.

  Edwin shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It was a fine beast, any man might covet it. All I know is that my lord will not rest until he reclaims it – which means he will not rest until he finds me. There it is!’

  Bewildered by his unexpected admission, Janna cast about for signs of the horse, then realised that Edwin was pointing at a faint mark in the grass. Ready to forgive him, and forgive herself for her lack of trust, Janna flashed him a grateful grin. ‘Well done!’ she said, and gave him a whack across the back, instantly regretting the action as she recalled the deep cuts she’d just treated.

  ‘Ow!’ he protested loudly.

  ‘Isn’t that the sort of thing men do to each other?’

  ‘Who goes there in the king’s royal forest?’ A loud shout startled Janna into silence. They stared at each other, momentarily numb with fear. Then, putting a warning finger to his mouth to caution silence, Edwin grabbed Janna’s hand and began to run, pulling her with him along the trail he’d found. Janna sprinted beside him, hoping she could trust Edwin to find the way. Even in her fear of being overtaken by the forester, she revelled in the freedom of movement the breeches gave her as her legs pumped up and down, pounding downhill through the trees.

  ‘Stop! In the name of the king, I bid you stand and give me your names and your reason for trespass in the king’s royal forest.’ The voice was uneven, somewhat breathless. The forester was chasing them. Edwin tugged harder on Janna’s hand, and she kept on running. Both of them knew that there’d be no mercy shown if they were to stop and meekly surrender.

  They ran on, stumbling into hollows and tripping over rough flints hidden among the tangled, weedy undergrowth. They let go, needing their hands to protect themselves from the brambles that snagged their clothes, whipped their faces and tore at their skin. A long strand of sticky goosegrass wrapped around Janna’s ankle; she yanked her foot free and, panicking now, put on a burst of speed to catch up with Edwin. The sounds of pursuit were louder but she was tiring. A pain cut into her side, sharp as the sword she carried. Aelfshot. The Saxons believed this sudden stab was caused by darts shot by elves, but Janna knew she felt it only when she’d run too far and for too long without rest. ‘You go on,’ she panted hoarsely as Edwin turned to check her progress. ‘I’ll
find a tree to climb.’

  ‘No!’ He stopped and grabbed hold of her. ‘My safety lies with you, just as yours lies with me. We’re in this together. Quick!’ Instead of heading deeper into the trees he hauled her towards an opening in the forest. Janna had no choice but to follow him, and saw the sense of his action when he dived headfirst into a patch of tall weeds. At once he was hidden from sight, and Janna wasted no time going in after him, although she felt exposed and vulnerable away from the shelter of the trees. Bracken and tall herbs formed part of their shield, but so too did stinging nettles and prickling thistles, and Janna had to fold her lips hard together to stop herself crying out. She lay still, listening to the pounding of her heart and the heavy rasp of her own panting breaths. She pressed her lips tighter to stifle the sound, while the thudding footsteps of their pursuer came closer.

  ‘Come back!’ he shouted as he passed close beside them. ‘I know you can hear me. Come back here at once!’

  They stayed silent, even when a blackbird alighted nearby to forage for a juicy worm. It took one startled glance at them and squawked loudly before taking off to find a less menacing hunting ground. All sound from the forester ceased. Janna couldn’t see him, but she could sense him waiting, and watching. She prayed that they, too, were invisible, and that Edwin would keep still until all danger had passed. For herself, she was too frightened even to blink. Any movement, the slightest sound, might give the forester the clue he needed to find them.

  Time passed. Janna felt as if she’d been lying hidden for an eternity. She desperately wanted to poke her head up, to see where the forester was and what he was doing, but she lay silent beside Edwin instead and waited for the danger to pass. Her heartbeats had begun to quieten, her breathing had returned to normal by the time the forester eventually set off. They could hear the diminishing sounds of his voice calling out in the hope that he would be heeded and obeyed.