Janna Mysteries 1 & 2 Bindup

by Felicity Pulman

  ‘Of course, that girl would look at anyone who wore breeches.’ The cook’s lips tucked down with disapproval as she continued in her petulant whine. ‘Only yesterday, I saw her walk past him. She pretended to stumble, and kicked aside her kirtle so that she could show off her bare legs. I’ve seen the way she looks at him! One of these days, you mark my words, that girl will –’

  ‘Who do you mean?’ Janna was already tired of the cook’s spiteful gossip; her long nose seemed made for poking into where it wasn’t wanted. Besides, Janna was keen to be out in the fields for, in spite of the hard work ahead, she thought the day might bring some sunshine, a change from the spitting rain that had plagued them these past few weeks.

  ‘Bertha, of course. Haven’t you been listening to me?’

  ‘Yes indeed, mistress, of course I have,’ Janna said hastily, anxious not to get on the wrong side of this woman who seemed to wield almost as much power within the household as Serlo did in his master’s demesne.

  ‘You must warn your brother about her.’ Mistress Tova clicked her tongue vigorously. ‘He’s handsome enough, I grant you, but he shouldn’t encourage her. No good will come of it, you’ll see. She’ll break his heart before she’s done, for she’s a flighty girl and besides, she has her sights set much higher than Edwin.’ There was an extra note of sourness in the cook’s voice. Janna wondered if she considered Bertha a rival to Gytha’s chances with the lord of the manor. Her suspicions were confirmed as the woman continued her gripe. ‘Not that she’ll get anywhere with my lord. A keen eye for a pretty girl my lord might have, but he’s not for the likes of Bertha.’

  Janna nodded agreement, even while wondering how the cook could show so little common sense when it came to her own daughter. Yet she had some sympathy for Gytha, and also for Bertha, as she remembered her own dealings with the handsome Hugh, a Norman nobleman, whom she’d met at Babestoche Manor while she was trying to save the life of Dame Alice’s newborn son. He’d been so kind to her after her mother had died. She was also quite sure she hadn’t misread the admiration in his eyes when he’d looked at her. But Hugh, too, had his way to make in the world. Janna knew that he was not for her, although his kisses had shaken her heart and soul, shaken everything she’d thought and believed in. How easy it would have been to love him, even knowing that it could lead only to disaster! She shook his image out of her mind. Hugh belonged to her past life and besides, she was a youth now, and so would not attract the eye of any man, be he as highborn as Hugh, or as lowly as Godric, who had protected her so bravely.

  She turned her face away so that the housekeeper wouldn’t notice her sadness. The voice continued, relentless as a midge in summer. ‘Young as you are, John, you should also guard yourself against Bertha’s wiles. I tell you, that Bertha will set her cap at anyone. Young or old, it matters not.’

  Janna wondered if the cook realised she was contradicting herself, but was too weary to question it. Instead, she pondered what the luckless Bertha had done to attract so much spite and ire. Bertha was the carpenter’s daughter. She was slightly older than Janna, and while she was no beauty, she had a pleasant countenance and always had a friendly word for everyone. Perhaps it was her popularity that soured the old biddy. It was a popularity that her own daughter did not share because of her airs and graces and her deliberate efforts to keep herself apart. Perhaps others on the manor also resented the favouritism shown to Gytha by Serlo, for servants and villeins alike worked every hour of daylight while it seemed that Gytha could please herself what she did. She was seldom in the kitchen, preferring instead to sit beside the well in the yard, or under a sheltering tree, where all might view her dainty stitching and admire her efforts at embroidery.

  ‘… but you’ll see him soon enough.’

  ‘Who?’ Janna realised her mistake as soon as the question left her mouth.

  The housekeeper pursed her lips. ‘If you are not bothered to listen to me, you’ll have to stay ignorant, John,’ she said. ‘Besides, I haven’t all day to stand here gossiping.’ As if it was all Janna’s fault.

  ‘I beg your pardon, mistress,’ she said meekly, and made her escape before the housekeeper relented enough to regale her with another half-hour of malice.

  ‘You’ll see him soon enough.’ The cook’s words piqued Janna’s curiosity as she left the manor and trudged up to the fields beyond.

  ‘Is someone coming to the manor today?’ she asked Edwin, in case his intelligence was better than hers.

  ‘Maybe the lord. He’s supposed to be here for the haymaking. It’s late, but they’ll start cutting the grass as soon as this rain stops.’ Edwin looked worried. ‘I hope he won’t ask too many questions about us.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Janna was surprised to realise that after all this time, she didn’t even know whose manor they were on. Serlo held such firm control over everything, she’d almost forgotten the manor belonged to someone else.

  Edwin shrugged. ‘Don’t know his name. Don’t care, so long as he doesn’t find out who we really are.’

  ‘I hear he’s quite young and very handsome, although to hear Gytha tell it you’d think he was as ancient as God.’

  Edwin laughed. ‘He might be as handsome as the devil himself, but it can’t matter to you. You’re a youth, remember?’

  ‘Oh, he’d be far too busy to look at me, even if I were a girl,’ Janna said cheerfully. ‘I’m told he has his eye on Gytha, and that Bertha has her eye on him.’

  ‘What?’ Edwin swung around to confront Janna. He took a savage swipe at a patch of deadnettles.

  ‘It was just idle gossip. You know what Mistress Tova is like.’ Janna felt uncomfortable, remembering now how Edwin had sidled up to Gytha when he first saw her.

  ‘She’s a wicked old crone,’ Edwin muttered. Turning his back on Janna, he began to hack into thistles as if his life depended on eliminating every single one.

  With a sigh, Janna looked about her. No matter how many thistles they cut, there were always more to find; she was beginning to think the harvest would be more bountiful if they reaped thistles rather than corn!

  Although they used a pair of long-handled sticks to cull the tall, prickly weeds, Janna’s hands were scratched and sore. She could feel the sting of their spikes through her smock and breeches whenever she came too close. She hated them! Now, she turned her back on them and, instead, began to cut into a clump of hairy pink corncockle.

  In the new freedom her tunic and breeches provided her, she’d almost forgotten how it felt to be constrained in a long kirtle. Her past life was beginning to seem more and more like a dream, and yet her quest nagged at her conscience: she needed to find her father. She wanted justice for her mother’s death. Finally, she gave voice to her thoughts.

  ‘If Master Serlo won’t give us permission to leave the manor, we must ask the lord if we may go.’

  ‘Master Serlo needs our help with haymaking. He told me so only yesterday.’

  ‘You work too hard, that’s the trouble.’ Janna paused a moment to survey Edwin’s efforts as, seemingly tirelessly, he slashed through the spiky thistles. ‘If we were both of us as useless as Gytha, he’d get rid of us tomorrow. Today, even.’ She bit her lip as she remembered the distress she’d already caused Edwin. She wished she’d held her tongue.

  ‘Gytha has other uses so far as Master Serlo is concerned,’ Edwin said dryly.

  ‘True enough.’ Janna felt slightly reassured that Edwin had come to realise he was wasting his time on Gytha. She decided to jolly him along. ‘And what is this I hear about Mistress Bertha showing off her legs to you?’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Do you need to ask?’ Janna continued before Edwin had a chance to respond. ‘I’m meant to warn you that she’s a flirt, a flighty girl, and that she’ll break your heart.’

  ‘Mistress Bertha cares nothing for me, whatever Mistress Tova might think!’ Edwin’s voice was gruff with embarrassment.

  Janna looked at him. Edwin’s wild, ha
lf-starved look was gone; he was filling out, becoming a man. Janna had seen how some of the young women looked at him when he passed by, although he never stopped long to talk with them, to tease them or flirt with them as they obviously wished he would.

  ‘You might not stand a chance with Gytha, but I reckon you could have your pick of anyone else if you weren’t so shy,’ she observed.

  Edwin flushed. ‘Look at me!’ he countered angrily. ‘I’m a fugitive from my lord’s demesne. How can I woo a maid when I have nothing to offer her, nothing at all?’

  ‘That’ll change when you’ve waited out your year and a day,’ Janna comforted him.

  ‘Yea, it will. But only if we can get to Winchestre, and if I can find work to earn my keep.’

  ‘Then we might as well get started,’ Janna said cheerily. ‘You won’t mind if I ask the lord’s permission to leave?’

  ‘I’d rather stay until we’re told to go,’ Edwin countered. ‘Serlo is a good reeve, far better than my own lord, and we have food and shelter here. Trust me, it’s much more comfortable living here than living wild in field and forest, having to scavenge and steal to stay alive. Besides, Serlo saved us from the forester. We owe him for that.’

  ‘We’ve already worked hard enough to repay him a hundredfold,’ Janna grumbled.

  ‘It’s safer for me to stay here, tucked out of sight.’ Edwin thought a moment. ‘It’s not as though you have any real plan to find your father. A few weeks more can’t make any difference either way.’

  Janna gave a grudging nod, accepting the truth of Edwin’s words.

  ‘Besides, I hear there’s to be a great feast after haymaking is done, with much ale and merrymaking. You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you, even if it means you’ll have to ask a maiden to dance with you?’

  Janna threw back her head and laughed at the thought. As she brought her attention back to the task in hand, her gaze sharpened and she straightened abruptly to look ahead. Her heart skipped a beat. She felt light-headed with shock.

  That sleek, black destrier! She could swear she’d seen the horse before. She’d even been on its back, riding in front with Hugh sitting behind her, his arms around her to keep her safe. So close they’d been, she had wished the ride might last for ever. She squinted her eyes against the light, trying to see the rider more clearly.

  He was clean shaven, with brown, shoulder-length hair. A green cloak almost covered his long tunic. She looked into his dark eyes.

  Yes, it was, it truly was! Her legs folded under her and she collapsed onto the ground, faint and giddy with fear. She bent her head to her knees, knowing that the rush of blood would make her feel better. More than anything, though, she needed to hide her face. Hugh thought she was dead, burned in the fire along with her cottage. It was safest for Janna if everyone thought that.

  ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ She heard Edwin’s anxious voice through the heavy pounding of her heart.

  ‘Hide me, Edwin! Stand in front of me.’ Janna didn’t raise her head. ‘That’s my lord Hugh coming our way. What’s he doing here?’

  There was silence as Edwin surveyed the figure coming towards them. ‘I noticed him before,’ he commented then. ‘He’s come from the forest, and he rides alone. He must know the way, or there’d be a guide with him else.’

  ‘I suspect he knows the way very well.’ Through her own fear and confusion, Janna had found the answer to her question. ‘I suspect he’s done the journey through the forest many times.’ She remembered how Gytha had talked about her lord and how he managed the manor on behalf of his family, and wondered why she hadn’t made the connection before. How could she have been so stupid! Hugh himself had told her that he was visiting his aunt to report on his custodianship of her property, while Hamo, Hugh’s cousin, had boasted that in time, he would inherit everything. ‘The lord Hugh has been away visiting his aunt at Babestoche, which is on the other side of this forest,’ she said slowly. ‘Dame Alice must own this manor farm, for Hugh is her nephew and Gytha has told me he’s in charge here until his cousin comes of age. Oh, Edwin!’ Her voice shook as she looked up at him. ‘This is the worst possible place we could have chosen to come for shelter!’

  ‘Have courage,’ he murmured, as he bent and sliced into a patch of nettles. ‘You are a youth now, remember, and the lord comes very near to us. You’d better get back to work or he’ll certainly stop and give you a piece of his mind.’

  Conscious that it was good advice, Janna scrambled to her feet and began to hack into a patch of yellow-flowering charlock, deliberately turning her back on the oncoming horseman. All her senses were strained as she listened to the sound of the horse’s hooves and the jingle of its bridle. In spite of herself, a slow blush mounted her cheeks.

  ‘God be with you,’ Hugh’s cheery voice rang out.

  ‘God be with you, sire,’ Janna mumbled in reply. She didn’t turn around, but heard Edwin’s voice echo her own greeting. To her horror, the sounds had stopped, which meant that the horse had too. She risked a quick glance behind her, not wanting to turn around but wondering if it would be considered rude to ignore Hugh and keep on working.

  ‘You are strangers to my manor, are you not?’ Hugh sounded puzzled. Janna waited, her heart thudding, for Edwin to reply.

  ‘We are, my lord. Your reeve, Master Serlo, gave us shelter in return for our labour. He has asked us to stay and help with the haymaking.’

  ‘Which is very late.’ Hugh cast his eyes skyward, assessing the chances of the sunshine continuing.

  ‘There has been much illness as well as bad weather, sire,’ Edwin hastened to explain.

  Watching from under lowered lids, Janna saw Hugh nod silently. ‘Who are you? What are your names?’ he asked.

  ‘I am Edwin, and this is my brother, John.’

  Janna turned to Hugh. She ducked her head in obeisance and kept it bent to avoid his gaze.

  ‘And where are you from? Do you have permission from your liege lord to leave his manor?’

  As Edwin launched into an explanation, Janna turned to attack a patch of thistles.

  ‘Your young brother seems determined to earn his keep,’ Hugh interrupted, sounding amused. Janna did not dare to look at him.

  ‘He’s young, sire, but he’s a good worker. Our mother always said that young John here was never at rest until all was done and proper.’

  Edwin sounded so convincing! Janna stifled a giggle.

  ‘I can see your mother was right. I’ll have a word with Serlo when I find him. Maybe you can stay on to help with the harvest too. There is always a need for good and willing workers.’ The jingle of the bridle told Janna that Hugh was on the move once more. Only when the sounds had faded into the distance did she dare to raise her head and look about her.

  ‘There, you heard him! He wants us to stay.’ Edwin sounded wistful. ‘I’d like that, John, I really would.’

  ‘Don’t even think about it!’ Janna said furiously. ‘Didn’t you listen when I told you that the villagers set fire to my cottage, with me in it? It’s too dangerous for me to stay here!’

  ‘You didn’t tell me he had anything to do with it.’ Edwin jerked his head in the direction of the dwindling figure of Hugh.

  ‘No, but … but …’ Janna couldn’t tell Edwin that it was Hugh’s uncle by marriage, Robert of Babestoche, who had incited the villagers to rise against her. If Hugh found out who she really was, it would only be a matter of time before Dame Alice and Robert found out too. Janna had managed to escape with her life once; she didn’t intend to take any further chances.

  ‘But … but what?’ Edwin raised an enquiring eyebrow.

  ‘He was part of it. Hugh, I mean,’ Janna muttered. ‘It’s not safe for me to stay here.’ Even as she said the words, she knew that she wanted to stay, just to be near Hugh. Being so close to him again had utterly unnerved her. In spite of her short hair and villein’s garb, she longed to show herself as she really was, and tell him the truth: that she was alive
, that she had escaped the fire that was meant to destroy her and her cottage. Then she remembered Gytha, and the light died in her eyes. It seemed that Hugh had a weakness for pretty serving girls and also the glib tongue to convince them that they were special in his eyes. ‘We have to leave. We must,’ she insisted.

  ‘We can’t. Not without Serlo’s permission.’

  ‘He can’t stop us if he doesn’t see us go.’ Janna wondered why Edwin was being so obstinate.

  ‘He can raise the hue and cry after us with the forester and with the sheriff. I’ve done enough running away, Ja … John. Please, let’s stay here as long as we can.’

  Janna was silent, torn between wanting to help Edwin and to protect herself.

  ‘We probably won’t see him again,’ Edwin urged. ‘He’ll be far too busy and important to bother with the likes of us. Our dealings are with Master Serlo, not him. Besides, he doesn’t suspect a thing. In fact, he thinks well of you for being such a hard worker!’

  Janna gave a grudging nod, acknowledging the truth of Edwin’s argument. ‘Then you must speak for me, protect me from him,’ she conceded, adding fiercely, ‘but only until our time is up! Then I’m going to Winchestre, whether you come with me or not.’ She bent to slash at the hated weeds once more.

  AFTER HER unexpected encounter with Hugh, Janna spent as little time in the hall as possible in case he came in and found her there. She broke her fast at speed and, while Edwin waited about afterwards for Hugh or Serlo to give the villeins on week work their orders for the day, she would hurry to the kitchen and wait for Mistress Tova to pack up dinner and supper in a sack for those who had no land to provide for themselves. Listening to Mistress Tova meant that Janna was well up on the doings of the manor, and the gossip that was attached to them.