‘I’m only saying what everyone says.’
Janna shook her head. ‘These are not accidents, they’re deliberate actions by someone wanting to cause harm,’ she insisted.
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘The posies of rue left behind at the scene.’
‘Rue?’
‘For regret. That’s what the old ones say, anyway. I wondered at first if the rogue felt regret for his actions after he’d done the deeds, but now I’m not so sure.’ Without meaning to, Janna looked for and found Urk. He was coming their way, a bucket dangling from each fist. In spite of the gravity of the situation, his face creased into its customary cheerful smile as he thrust the buckets at Janna and Edwin.
‘He looks happy enough. Maybe it’s him,’ Edwin commented.
‘No, it isn’t.’ But Janna wasn’t as sure as she sounded. ‘I wondered if it might be you,’ she said, deciding to voice her concerns.
‘Me?’ Edwin looked astonished. ‘Why would I do something like this?’ He gestured towards the haystack. ‘What have I got to gain?’
The flames were dying at last. Smoke and the stink of wet, burnt hay tainted the air. Janna sighed with relief that the danger was past. ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know anything,’ she confessed.
HER WORRIES KEPT Janna wakeful and restless during the night. Her eyes felt puffy and pricked with tiredness when she finally rolled off her pallet and made herself ready to face Hugh. She was sure that she could smell herself, and she longed for a wash, but there was no privacy to be found unless she left the manor farm – and that she couldn’t do, not without Serlo’s permission. She certainly could not sneak out at night and plunge into the river, for if anyone saw her undressed they would know the truth. So she sighed, and wet her fingers and tried to smooth the singed stubble that covered her head, which was all she could do to make herself presentable. With a catch of alarm, she realised that her hair was growing long again. She patted the knife in its sheath. She must ask Edwin to cut her hair this very night.
With bread and ale consumed, she left Edwin to wait for the cook to assemble their dinner, and to chat to the serving maids while he waited, for he had become a great favourite in the kitchen. Her heart beat hard in fear and excitement as she first gathered soapwort, marsh mallow leaves and woundwort from the kitchen garden, then walked towards the stables clutching her bouquet of herbs.
There was no sign of Hugh, or anyone else other than a young boy. Janna frowned as she looked more closely. The youth was leading a small herd of nanny goats and their young through the yard towards the gate. Even as Janna watched, the boy raised his arm and aimed a pebble at one of the kids. It hit the goat on the rump and it jumped, bleating pitifully as it did so.
‘Stop that!’ Janna shouted. The boy hardly glanced at her before picking up another, larger stone. This time he aimed for the goat’s head. The animal dropped, stunned, and lay in the dirt, kicking feebly.
Without thought, Janna raced towards the boy. Before he could run away, she had caught him, and she boxed his ears hard, packing all her new-found strength into the punch.
‘Ow!’ he shouted, wriggling and squirming in Janna’s grasp. ‘Let me go!’
‘How dare you!’ she panted. ‘How dare you harm that little goat!’
‘It’s for our dinner.’ The boy had turned sullen now. ‘First finders of a dead animal gets to keep it, so Master Serlo says.’
‘I’ll wager Master Serlo doesn’t say you can go out and kill it first!’ Janna kept hold of the lad. She gave him a hard shake.
‘There’s no-one here to see me, ’cept you. Why should you care? Everyone does it.’
Somehow, Janna doubted it, but she wasn’t prepared to debate the point with the lad. ‘Then I’ll tell Master Serlo what you’ve done. If everyone is doing it, he won’t mind, will he?’
She felt the boy cower against her. He began to tremble with fright. Janna understood why when Hugh’s cool voice interrupted them. ‘What’s happening here, boy? Why are you throwing stones at my goats?’
Janna let the child go. She stayed silent, leaving him to talk his way out of the situation as best he could. All bravado gone, he began to cry.
‘Take the goats out and look after them properly, Eadwig,’ Hugh said sternly. ‘Be sure I will count them when you bring them in tonight. When you get home, tell your father he’s to come to the manor house and bring you with him.’
The lad fled, leaving Janna alone with Hugh. She knelt to pick up the herbs she’d dropped when she’d grabbed hold of the goat’s tormentor, feeling some relief as she watched the kid rise to its feet and stagger off to find its mother.
‘I saw everything that happened,’ Hugh said into the silence. ‘I was waiting just inside the stable. I heard you shouting at Eadwig. I saw it all, Johanna.’
Janna froze.
‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ Hugh continued softly. ‘Your appearance might have changed, but your voice – and your manner – not at all!’
Janna stayed on her knees, not daring to move or say anything. Hugh put his hand underneath her elbow, and yanked her upright. ‘I think you owe me an explanation,’ he said, and began to propel her towards the stables. ‘You can minister to Arrow while you tell me why you burnt your home to the ground and left us all to think that you were dead.’
‘I did not burn my home, sire!’ Janna was outraged that he could think such a thing.
He cocked his head to one side, studying her. ‘The abbess is wrath, for the cottage was her property and now it is destroyed. And Godric, the villein, has told us that you died in the fire and that he has buried you in the forest. Why so many lies, Johanna, and to what purpose?’ His voice lost some of its hard edge as he continued more softly, ‘Was the fire an accident? You know, because I told you, that Dame Alice agreed to pay heriot to the abbess and mortuary to the priest after the death of your mother. If the fire was an accident, I doubt the abbess would hold you to blame, while the villagers would surely have helped you to rebuild your cottage and given you shelter until that was done. There was no need to flee, or to tell such lies.’
How little you know of the villagers, Janna thought, as bitter memories swelled up in her mind. She did not know what to say to Hugh, and so she stayed silent.
‘In truth, I am disappointed,’ he said then, as he snicked open the latch and led her into the stable. ‘I had thought you more honourable, more courageous. I didn’t take you for a coward, Johanna.’
‘I am not a coward, sire!’ Janna could stay silent no longer.
‘And yet you have run from the village, and even disguised yourself as a boy to escape detection.’ Hugh stalked on past a line of horses and stopped at Arrow’s stall. The destrier blew a gentle greeting as Janna entered. She wondered if he remembered her. She stood awkwardly, uncertain how to make the horse lift his hoof so that she could inspect it. Hugh solved the problem by doing it for her. Janna clicked her tongue, distressed by the ugly wound which already was beginning to fester from the dung and dirt which had worked its way into the cut.
‘I need boiling water and something to wrap the hoof,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to cleanse it first. Then I’ll bind these healing herbs against the wound. You must not ride him, sire, or even take him from the stall.’ She glanced down at the mud and dung on which the horse stood. ‘It would be best if the horse stood on clean rushes for the while,’ she added.
Hugh grunted. But he released the horse’s hoof, and shouted for a stable lad to fetch what Janna needed. While they waited, he fixed his dark gaze on her once more. ‘Who is Edwin? What is he to you?’ he asked now.
‘He’s …’ Janna was going to claim him still as her brother, but she was sure Hugh would not believe her. She decided to stick as close to the truth as she could. ‘I came across him in the forest, sire, in Gravelinges. I was alone, and frightened, and he took care of me. It is true that he comes from Wales and that he has to seek his fortune after his eldest brother inherited both
cot and land when his mother died.’ Janna kept her fingers crossed behind her back against yet another lie. She hoped Hugh would not doubt her word as she added, ‘Please believe me, sire. I did not set fire to the cottage. That was the work of the villagers, and that is why Godric seeks to protect me now.’
‘The villagers burnt your home?’ Hugh sounded horrified. ‘Why would they do such a thing?’
‘Because …’ But even Janna’s quick wits could not come up with a convincing enough story, other than telling Hugh the truth: that her mother had drunk the poisoned wine that Robert had given to Cecily, and that he knew Janna had found out his secret, which was why he’d incited the villagers to take action against her. She was sure Hugh would not believe it of his uncle-by-marriage, and so she stayed silent.
‘I am sorry you did not bring your troubles to my aunt,’ Hugh said, when it became clear that Janna would say no more. ‘Dame Alice would have helped you, I am sure of it. She had great respect for your mother’s skill, and yours too.’
‘I am sorry too, sire,’ Janna said softly. ‘I was alone and frightened. With no home and no family, it seemed best for me to run away, and so I did.’
‘You are safe now.’ Hugh gave her a troubled glance. ‘There is no need to disguise yourself any longer, Johanna. You could stay here and help Mistress Tova in the kitchen. I know she would be glad of an extra hand. And heaven knows we often have need of a healer for burns, and broken bones, and the pox if it comes again. You could be very useful to me, if you wish to stay.’
‘I thank you for your offer, sire. Of course I am happy to help anyone in need of a healer, but I wish to stay as I am – at least as others think I am,’ Janna said stiffly. She wanted to tell Hugh he was wrong; that she was no longer safe now that he knew her true identity. More than ever, she and Edwin needed to flee to Winchestre. She must talk to Edwin; they must leave that very night.
‘You have nothing to fear from showing yourself as you truly are.’ Hugh looked more puzzled than ever. ‘In truth, your disguise does not become you.’
Janna felt a painful blush stain her face as she recalled how he’d once looked at her with admiration in his eyes. No more, not ever again. The thought stung. ‘I beg you, sire.’ She forced herself to look into his eyes, so he could see that she was in earnest. ‘Do not allow anyone to punish the villein, Godric, for his lies. He told them for my protection, just as I would ask you, sire, to keep the truth about me to yourself. I … I cannot explain to you why my life is in jeopardy, but I beg you to believe it, and keep my secret now if … if you care about my safety.’
Hugh stayed silent, still looking troubled.
‘Please, sire!’ In her desperation to secure his silence, Janna realised she’d grabbed hold of Hugh’s arm. Quickly, she released it. ‘Please, sire,’ she said more quietly. ‘I matter to no-one other than those who wish me harm. Please protect me with your silence.’
‘Very well.’ The promise was given grudgingly. It was clear Hugh was unhappy about the course Janna had urged on him. ‘I know that the priest stirred up trouble against your mother, and that he might have influenced some of the villagers because of his refusal to bury her in consecrated ground,’ he conceded. ‘I have spoken to Dame Alice about the priest but she will not take action against him.’ He stopped, and gnawed on his bottom lip. He seemed to be wondering how far he could take Janna into his confidence.
‘You must understand that this is a difficult situation,’ he said then. ‘My aunt … married unwisely. Robert was her father’s steward, and after her father died he wooed Alice. Being her father’s only heir, and with all that property at her disposal, Alice was supposed to petition the king for permission to marry, but she was desperate to have Robert and no other. With a baby on the way, it became urgent to find someone who was prepared to wed them. This priest …’ He broke off as the stable lad came clattering in, bearing a bucket of hot water and the bandage Janna had requested. But Hugh had said enough for Janna to understand the situation. Anger flamed anew as she reflected how worthless was the dame’s husband. First, and to secure his future, he had seduced Dame Alice. Next, and for his own pleasure, he had seduced Cecily, the dame’s tiring woman. Janna wondered how many others Robert had seduced – and abandoned – during his marriage.
‘I want you to know that I petitioned the Abbess of Wiltune for a requiem mass to be said for your mother’s soul, and for your own,’ Hugh said now. ‘I have to say that she was reluctant at first. It seems she knows something of your mother’s past, but I managed to convince her of your worth, and so it was done.’ Hugh surveyed Janna, his face grave as he added: ‘Obviously a mass for the dead was not necessary on your account. I can only hope that you walk in the grace of God’s blessing, and that you will continue to do so.’
‘Yes, oh yes, sire, and thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for your kindness.’ So he had kept his promise to her! Janna felt almost giddy with relief.
‘Hmph.’ Hugh looked as if he needed convincing that he’d done the right thing. ‘And what are your plans for the future?’
To go in search of my father, Janna thought. But she wasn’t prepared to take Hugh so fully into her confidence. ‘To go to Winchestre, sire, to seek employment there.’ It was part of the truth.
‘With Edwin?’
‘With Edwin.’ Janna nodded confirmation.
‘Why don’t the two of you stay on here? I’ve already told you your worth to me, and Edwin is a good worker.’
‘Thank you, sire. You are very kind.’ Janna had no intention of accepting his invitation, but she wasn’t going to tell Hugh that she was proposing to run away that very night. Instead, she set to work, crushing the waxy green leaves of soapwort into hot water before bathing the wound. Hugh and the stable lad kept tight hold of the destrier so that it would not move, or kick out at Janna while she worked. She was grateful for the lad’s presence, for it made further conversation difficult. Hugh had already given her much to think about, but she needed a quiet time alone to mull over what he had told her. For the moment, she concentrated on her task, feeling the great horse flinch as she set about binding its hoof, wrapping the hank of unspun wool tight to keep the healing herbs in place, and also to prevent any more dirt from entering the wound.
‘Clean out this stall,’ Hugh ordered, once Janna was finished and the horse was standing firmly on its feet once more. ‘Then go and cut some clean rushes to lay on the ground.’ As Janna made to do what she was bid, Hugh grasped her arm. ‘Not you,’ he said, angling his head towards the lad. ‘Him.’
‘I am capable of doing the work just as well, my lord, and it will go quicker with two of us.’
Janna felt a queer thrill in defying Hugh, and knew a moment’s deep satisfaction when he said, with a smile quirking his mouth, ‘I can see you haven’t changed anything other than your clothes. You are still as independent as you were when you lived with your mother. Very well, then. Do as you wish.’
‘Thank you, sire.’ With difficulty, Janna kept a smirk of triumph off her face as she seized a besom and began to sweep the dung and dirt into a pile. When she next looked up, Hugh’s silhouette blocked the light from the door; the next moment he had disappeared from view.
The stable lad didn’t look at her as they worked together to clear Arrow’s stall. Janna wondered how much of her conversation with Hugh he had heard. At least enough to let him know that Hugh regarded her so highly he’d arranged a mass to be said for her soul. Had Hugh said her name in his hearing? Janna cast her mind back over their conversation. No. With luck, the boy still thought of her as John. Perhaps he didn’t trust her now. If so, she couldn’t think of anything to say to make matters right, and so they filled and dumped their bucket loads in silence.
The lad went over to a row of implements then, and selected two scythes. He gave one to Janna. ‘To cut the rushes,’ he said shortly, and led the way out, heading down towards the river.
Looking up at the fields, Janna not
iced the blackened remains of the burnt haystack. With a feeling of dread, she realised what she must do. ‘Let’s cut the rushes at the stream,’ she said, pointing in the direction of the haystack. The stable boy frowned at her, seeming resentful that she was taking charge. ‘It means we can carry the load downhill instead of uphill,’ Janna pointed out.
He gave a grudging nod and changed direction. Janna followed him, veering off to the haystack as they passed. She bent to examine the ashy remains. The scene and the smell reminded her of the time she’d searched the burnt ruins of her own home, and how her search had uncovered her mother’s secret cache with its clues to her father’s identity, the clues she could not read and didn’t know how to interpret. Hugh’s words came back to Janna. He’d said that the abbess knew something of her mother’s past. Janna wondered now if, instead of fleeing in a blind panic, she should first have sought an audience with the abbess. Perhaps it was still possible? It would certainly be worth the risk of being seen by the villagers if the abbess could tell her where to begin her search for the truth about her mother – and her father. Janna pushed the thought aside for consideration later, and began her search.
She knew exactly what she was looking for and she examined everything very carefully, first the ruined remains of the haystack, then widening her search to encompass other haystacks nearby. It didn’t take her long to spy it, the leaves a silvery green, the flowers a bright splotch of yellow tucked into the pale straw of a nearby haystack.
Janna snatched out the posy of rue, and ground it to shreds under her boot. Too late, she wondered if she should take Hugh into her confidence, if she should have kept it to show him or even brought him out with her to search the haystacks. Would he have believed her, or had she already stretched his trust too far?
It was too late, now, to think of it or to regret her action. Janna looked towards the stream where the stable lad was already hard at work cutting rushes for Arrow’s stall. She hurried to join him. There was no sign of Edwin now, or her dinner either, Janna realised. With haymaking over, shearing had begun. The hurdles had been taken down and the animals were free to graze in the water meadows, but there was no sign of them or their keeper. She wondered where they were folded now, for it was there that shearing would be taking place and where she needed to search for Edwin if she wanted her dinner this day.
Janna Mysteries 1 & 2 Bindup Page 33
