Janna Mysteries 1 & 2 Bindup

by Felicity Pulman

  ‘No.’ The bell began to ring out its lonely message once more, confirming that the search continued. Edwin’s words reassured Janna that he really knew nothing about Hamo’s disappearance. But that left the problem of the missing length of woollen cloth and the silver goblets. ‘Some things have been stolen from the storage chests in the undercroft,’ she said now. ‘What do you know about it, Edwin? And don’t lie to me, either. You stole my purse from me, I haven’t forgotten that.’ A shocked gasp, quickly suppressed, told Janna that Edwin hadn’t been entirely honest with Bertha.

  ‘I don’t know nothing about stealing goods from the undercroft,’ Edwin blustered, angry that Janna had shown him in a bad light. ‘What’s missing? And why should you think I had anything to do with it? I haven’t even been at the manor, I’ve been up a tree!’

  ‘Sshh, keep your voices down,’ Bertha warned. ‘I’ll leave you two to argue while I feed the animals.’

  Watching Bertha empty the bucket of greens and slops, and throw grain to the hens, hearing the clucking, grunting and bleating as the animals fought one another to get to the food first, reminded Janna of her own chores when she’d lived with her mother. She felt a sharp pang of sadness. Their lives had been hard, but she’d been happy enough. She felt so much older now; she’d lost her childhood innocence the day her mother had died and she’d come face to face with evil. She would never be the same again.

  Janna shook off her dark thoughts with an effort. While Bertha squatted to milk the goats, Janna began to tell Edwin what had been happening in his absence. Bertha joined in, ranging herself on Edwin’s side until Janna was convinced that they knew nothing about either the stolen property or the missing Hamo. They continued then to confer in low voices, with Janna trying to persuade Edwin to show himself while he and Bertha fiercely resisted all her arguments.

  ‘You’ve turned me into an a fugitive!’ Janna said hotly, when she saw he would not be persuaded.

  ‘You were a fugitive when I met you,’ Edwin reminded her.

  It was true. But that fact didn’t help Janna now. ‘I’m supposed to be locked up in the barn. I’m certainly not going back there! But I can’t leave the manor either, not while Hamo is still missing. What am I to do?’

  ‘You can stay here with me,’ Edwin offered.

  Janna moved over to investigate the small space between the fence of woven wattle and the woodpile. It was barely large enough to hide Edwin.

  ‘I s’pose you could stay here,’ Bertha said reluctantly. ‘The animals are my responsibility. No-one else comes out here but me. And my father, when he needs more wood, but Edwin knows to stay hidden unless he hears my voice.’

  ‘No, I thank you. I’ll find somewhere else to hide.’ Janna screwed up her face in concentration. Where could she go, and what could she do to help find Hamo? ‘I wish I knew whether he was lost or taken!’ she burst out.

  ‘Taken? Who?’ Both Edwin and Bertha turned to Janna in confusion.

  ‘Hamo.’ She pondered a moment, wondering if she could take them into her confidence. Yes, she decided. Three heads might be better than one at working out this puzzle. Besides, Bertha had lived here all her life, she might well know something from the past to help make sense of the present. ‘I wish I knew whether Hamo’s disappearance was connected in any way with what else has been happening here,’ she said carefully, and began to tell them about the sprigs of rue that were left each time to mark the scene of the so-called ‘accident’.

  Talking about it helped to get the sequence of events clear in her mind, she found.

  ‘I thought Hamo’s disappearance was yet another “accident” when I found the posy of rue beside the door of the undercroft,’ she said, ‘but when Serlo accused me – us – of stealing the woollen cloth and goblets, I thought I must be mistaken, and that the rue was left to mark that instead. But now I’m not so sure.’

  ‘Why? What have the accidents and Hamo going missing got to do with each other, then?’ Bertha frowned at Janna.

  ‘I wish I knew,’ Janna said again. ‘It’s just that after I found the rue, I decided to search the barn myself to see if it meant anything. Serlo claims that the missing articles came from some wooden chests stored there, but I know they were all locked when I looked at them.’ She frowned, worried that she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask. ‘Whoever took those things must have had a key to open the chests,’ she said. ‘So who would have a key?’

  ‘The lord Hugh. Master Serlo. Mistress Tova, and maybe Gytha?’ Bertha offered. Then she laughed, and shook her head. ‘But that’s silly. Why should any one of them want to cause harm to the manor – or to Hamo? Unless …’ She stopped.

  ‘Unless?’ Janna prompted, dreading to have her suspicions confirmed by the carpenter’s daughter.

  ‘Well, Gytha’s mother wants her to marry the reeve. Serlo has a good position and is held in great respect. He owns his cottage and the gore acres around it and, whatever happens to my lord Hugh once Hamo inherits this property, you can be sure that Master Serlo will keep his position here. But Gytha is determined that she’ll wed my lord and no other.’

  Janna nodded. This she already knew. She waited for Bertha to explain herself.

  ‘I’m wondering if Gytha knows anything about Hamo’s disappearance? It’s terrible even to think it, but if something happens to Hamo then my lord Hugh will inherit all Dame Alice’s fortune, including this manor. That would please Gytha greatly. Hamo is the greatest barrier to her becoming the lord Hugh’s wife and the lady of his manor.’

  ‘Gytha?’ Janna hadn’t considered the young beauty before. She wondered if there could be any truth in Bertha’s words.

  ‘Gytha must know that if my lord Hugh inherits nothing when Hamo comes of age, he will need to marry someone with a fortune. He certainly won’t wed her,’ Bertha continued, unconsciously echoing Janna’s own thoughts on the matter. ‘Maybe Gytha knows something about Hamo’s disappearance? Maybe she’s even the cause of it?’

  ‘It’s possible, I suppose,’ Janna said dubiously. Did Gytha have the courage or the guile to carry out such a dreadful mission? It seemed unlikely. It seemed even more unlikely that she was involved in any of the incidents that had gone before. While she would have had the time and the opportunity to carry them out, she had no motive and nothing to gain from any of them. A sudden thought lodged like an arrow in Janna’s heart. Could Hugh and Gytha be in this together, and working for their common cause?

  ‘Watch Gytha, see where she goes, what she does,’ she told Bertha. ‘If she knows where Hamo is, sooner or later she’ll lead you to him.’

  Bertha nodded, looking self-important and proud. Janna was relieved that Bertha hadn’t taken her guess to its logical conclusion. If Gytha had everything to lose when Hamo inherited the land from Dame Alice, so did Hugh. Whichever way she looked at the problem, it always came back to him. He, more than anyone, had good reason to kidnap Hamo, as well as the means and opportunity to carry it out. He would not have to use force. The boy would go with him willingly. She was about to say so, but found that Hugh’s name stuck in her throat. She could not say it out loud, because she still didn’t want to believe it. She would hide, and watch, and wait until she found proof of his culpability, Janna decided. Then, and only then, would she call Hugh to account.

  ‘I’d better go,’ she said, and scrambled to her feet. Bertha stood up to accompany her. Edwin gave Janna an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry you have to face this alone,’ he said. ‘But I’ll come out of hiding just as soon as those travellers leave the manor, I promise you.’

  ‘And then?’ Janna queried. ‘Will you come on to Winchestre with me?’

  Edwin and Bertha exchanged glances. She spoke up for both of them. ‘It is our wish to be wed, if the lord Hugh permits it,’ she said. ‘I have asked my father to take Edwin on as an apprentice and he has already agreed to it. Edwin’s life lies here now, with me.’

  Janna nodded in understanding. ‘Good luc
k to you then,’ she said, ‘and I wish you both great happiness.’ She turned to Bertha. ‘Please keep close watch on Gytha and, if you have any further ideas about Hamo’s disappearance, either of you, please tell me.’ She gave Edwin a farewell salute, then followed Bertha out through the cottage, taking time to give her younger sister an awkward wave as she passed.

  Needing to find shelter, Janna headed off towards the forest for the night, all the while keeping a lookout for telltale flickers of light from the searchers, and listening anxiously for sounds of the hunt. She’d sworn never to pass another night up a tree again, and so she looked around for somewhere else she might shelter – and found it in the sheep shed where she and Edwin had hidden once before. With relief, she hurried towards it, sure that she’d be safe there for the night, for it must already have been searched by others as well as by herself.

  She debated gathering leaves and straw to make a softer bed, but decided against it. Even if she cleaned out the shed in the morning, she was bound to leave signs of occupation behind, signs that could be misinterpreted. With a sigh of resignation, she cleared a small patch of the hard flinty ground free of sheep’s mundungus, and lay down. She was exhausted, but her thoughts churned endlessly, keeping her fretful and awake. Hamo. He must be feeling so frightened, and so alone.

  And Hugh! Her suspicions seemed impossible when she recalled his kindness, his gentle touch as he comforted her after her mother’s death. His kiss … Her body ached and burned with memories of Hugh.

  At some time during the night she heard the sound of voices and leapt up, trying to judge whether she was safe, whether she had time to run. She opened the door a crack and peered out across the water meadows. The weary villeins were returning home, their torches burned as low as their spirits judging by the snatches of conversation that came her way through the still night air. Hamo was not found then. The hunt would start again at dawn. She dozed, awoke, and dozed again until a gradual lightening to the east told her that the sun would soon rise, and the searchers with it.

  She scrambled to her feet and rolled her shoulders to ease their stiffness, then rubbed her arms to generate a little warmth. She was cold and hungry. She could almost smell the fresh bread baking in the kitchen, the rich scent of pig roasting on a spit, and was tempted to sneak back to the manor and ask Mistress Tova for something to break her fast. Instead, she slipped into the forest to find something to eat. Some mushrooms, hastily collected and eaten raw, helped ease the hollow emptiness in her stomach, while a few early raspberries added a touch of sweetness at the finish. The golden aura of the sun peeping above the horizon spoke of a fine day, a fact that added to her rising spirits, her confidence that Hamo was still alive and would be found.

  Hugh – or Gytha? Janna shook her head, sure that the answer lay with the one who stood to gain the most from Hamo’s death. She resolved to keep herself hidden until Hugh’s return. After that she would follow him. If Hamo was alive, his first call must surely be to check on the boy, and when he did so, she would be there, following in his footsteps. She took comfort from the thought that if she was wrong, Bertha would be watching Gytha, ready to pounce if necessary. In the meantime, Janna sought shelter, needing to evade Serlo’s watchful eye. She found an old beech tree close to the path through the forest, and climbed high into its dense, leafy crown.

  Serlo was the first to come out of the manor, leading a group of villeins. Judging by their yawns and dragging steps, they had been woken early and given little time to break their fast. Janna stayed motionless in her hiding place as they crossed the river and came on into the forest, passing close beside her hiding place. She hardly dared even to blink in case someone caught a flicker of movement. She watched them disappear down the path, and wondered if they were also searching for her. If Serlo had bothered to send some bread and ale to the barn, or even taken the victuals to her himself, he would know she was gone. Everyone would have been warned to keep a lookout for her, and for Edwin.

  The sun rose higher, warming the chill from the air and lightening the sky with its rosy rays. Janna’s eyes felt heavy with sleep after her wakeful night. She lay along the length of a branch, and felt her eyes close in the drowsy summer heat. A swarm of gnats found her. She flapped an irritable hand at them but they continued to bite and tease her until she found herself thoroughly wide awake. She listened for sounds of the search but heard only the discordant clanging of the bell. Then there was silence.

  To keep herself awake, she cast her mind back to what Eadgyth had told her about beeches. The tree had many healing properties but, of more importance to Janna right now, was something else Eadgyth had said. ‘The beech is said to protect lost travellers. The old ones especially revered it because they believed the ancient gods wrote upon its bark and so the tree received their knowledge and wisdom. Even today, if you write a wish on a beech tree, it will be granted.’ After a moment’s reflection, Janna pulled out her knife and laboriously began to inscribe her father’s name on the smooth grey bark. J O H N. ‘Please let me find him,’ she whispered, as she cut into the hard wood.

  The long morning wore on, and Janna was almost asleep when the thudding of a horse’s hooves jerked her upright. Hugh! She peered through the leaves to make sure, and recognised the green cloak coming towards her. He was riding the reddish brown steed he’d been on before, and he was moving fast. There was no time to lose if she wanted to keep him in sight. She slid down through the lofty branches, grabbing hasty handholds along the way, until she missed her footing and fell. She crashed down into thick leaf litter below the beech, landing almost in the path of the speeding horse. Startled by her sudden appearance, the horse reared and whinnied in fright. Its hooves lashed out and pounded the air. Hugh clung tight to the reins. As he fought to stay in the saddle, he tried to gentle the horse to stillness with his voice. ‘Whoa there, easy up. Easy now.’ He kept on talking until at last his mount stood calm. Then he looked at Janna, and frowned with displeasure.

  ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ he said curtly. ‘You could have killed us both!’

  ‘I … I’m sorry, sire.’ Janna bent her knees in a hasty curtsy, tried to correct it to a bob, remembered that Hugh knew she wasn’t a boy, got her feet tangled up, and fell over. Scarlet-faced, she scrambled up again, cursing her clumsiness and the ill-luck that had precipitated her descent. She had hoped to follow behind Hugh without being seen; she hadn’t expected to confront him like this.

  ‘Why were you hiding up a tree?’ From the determined set of Hugh’s jaw, Janna knew he would not leave without some explanation from her. She struggled to find something convincing to tell him, but nothing came into her mind. Eventually, she decided to stick to a version of the truth.

  ‘I’m hiding from Master Serlo,’ she explained.

  Hugh was still gentling and patting the horse. As the bell tolled out once more, his frown deepened. ‘There is no sign of Hamo, then?’

  ‘No, sire.’ Janna shook her head, almost convinced that Hugh’s concern sounded genuine. ‘The search has gone on all night, but he is not found.’

  Hugh’s lips tightened. There was a look of real distress in his eyes. ‘I must find Serlo,’ he told Janna. ‘But before I do, tell me why you are hiding from him.’

  ‘Master Serlo believes that I stole some things from the storage chests in the undercroft, but I swear to you, sire, that I did not.’

  ‘If Master Serlo accuses you of theft, I am sure it is for a good reason. No!’ Hugh held up a hand to stay Janna’s outraged retort. ‘I hold you in good faith, Johanna, and so I am sure he is mistaken in his belief. But what about Edwin? Your brother?’ There was a wealth of sarcasm in the word.

  Janna sighed. His question was fair, but she was unsure how to answer it. ‘I have spoken to Edwin and I swear he knows nothing of it either.’ Janna hesitated, but decided to continue with the truth, partly because Hugh already knew it. ‘He has gone into hiding, sire, because he recognised the travellers who are staying
at the manor. They come from his lord’s own manor near Tantone, and Edwin is afraid they will return him there if he is found. He’s trying to stay hidden for a year and a day so that his lord can no longer claim him.’

  ‘That’s what I suspected.’ Hugh dismounted then, but kept tight hold of the horse’s reins. ‘And is there any good reason why I should not hand Edwin over to Master Siward so that his lord can make his own decision about him?’

  ‘He … his lord is a violent man, sire. Edwin told me he was beaten regularly. In fact I have seen the scars of it on his back. The other villeins were also beaten. Even the lord’s own family were victims of his rage.’

  Hugh nodded thoughtfully. ‘That accords with what Master Siward hinted at, but you haven’t told me everything, Johanna. Or has Edwin not told you that when he ran away, he took his lord’s favourite steed with him?’

  ‘Yes, Edwin told me what he was accused of, but no, sire, he did not take the steed. He denied knowing anything about its theft, and I believe him. But he knew no-one else would, and so he ran away.’ Janna hesitated. ‘For certes, there was no sign of any horse when I met him in the forest, sire.’

  ‘Humph.’ Hugh was silent for a few moments. ‘And what is Edwin to you, that you defend him so vigorously, Johanna?’ There was a slight edge to his voice.

  Janna smiled, rather flattered by Hugh’s interest. Should she tell him he had nothing to fear, that Edwin was already in love with Bertha? A quick check with the reality of her situation wiped the smile from her face. She must never forget, for one moment, the reason behind her interest in Hugh. ‘Edwin was hiding in the forest, just as I was, sire.’ Better not mention her stolen purse, Janna thought. ‘We decided it would be safer for both of us if we travelled together, and that’s why we made up the story about being part-Welsh and everything.’ Shamefaced, she looked at Hugh, willing him to believe her, to believe them both.

  ‘You seem to tell lies so readily, Johanna, that I wonder how far I can trust you now?’ Hugh’s eyes rested on Janna with a steady gaze that cut right through her so that she felt as if her heart and soul were being peeled open. Whatever Hugh found on his inspection seemed to satisfy some of his doubts, however.