“No!” The last thing Janna wanted was the chance that the family might overhear what she was about to say. “It’s about my mother,” she added quickly, knowing that anything to do with Eadgyth would keep him by her side. “I told you that she died after drinking tainted wine. What I haven’t told you is that the wine was deliberately poisoned. Nor have I told you who was responsible for her death.”
“Are you saying your mother was murdered?” John looked at the grooms, who were busy attending the horses, and at the steward, who stood close by awaiting further instructions. “You may go,” he told him. “I’ll send for you later.” He turned to Janna. “We’ll go into the garden,” he said. Without waiting for an answer, he took her by the hand and led her out of the yard and into the fragrant enclosure. He gestured to a turf bench studded with daisies, and waited until they were both seated before he said, “Tell me all you know – or suspect.”
Clearly and logically, Janna described the dark days following her mother’s death; how she had talked to everyone whom she suspected might know anything about what had occurred, and the clues she’d followed that had led her to the man guilty of murder: the lord of the manor, Robert of Babestoche. “I was just the daughter of a poor herb wife. I couldn’t say anything to anyone,” she continued, addressing her father’s back, for he was now pacing about in agitation. “That’s why I needed to find you.” She proceeded to tell her father the rest of the story: that the priest had refused to bury Eadgyth in consecrated ground and how, incited by both Robert and the priest, the villagers had turned on Janna herself, and burned to the ground the cottage she’d shared with her mother.
“It was only after the fire that my mother’s hiding place was uncovered. That was where I found your letter, and brooch and ring,” Janna concluded.
By now John’s face was red; he was shaking with rage. “By God!” He pounded his fist into his other hand. “I’ll make them regret – ”
But Janna had seen her chance and was quick to act on it. “Only one man believed in me through all that time. Godric,” she said. “He helped me escape on more than one occasion. I owe him my life, Papa. And I would so like to repay his kindness.” By marrying him, if you’ll only agree to it. She didn’t dare put her hopes into words, not yet.
“And who is he, this Godric? Don’t tell me he’s Robert of Babestoche’s son?”
“No, that’s Hamo.” Seeing her father’s confusion, Janna hurried on. “You remember the young boy you met with me at the cathedral when Hugh was wed? Hugh is Hamo’s cousin and nephew to Robert of Babestoche.”
“And who is Godric?” John tried again.
“He…” Janna’s courage almost failed her. “He is Hugh’s highly trusted and capable steward,” she said, putting the best gloss she could on Godric’s status.
“As I understood it, Hugh has no property of his own. He married to acquire it.”
“Yes.” Janna nodded in agreement. “At present, he and his wife are living at the manor farm Hugh oversees for his aunt, Dame Alice.”
“And that’s where Godric is?”
“Yes,” Janna agreed.
“Then I shall certainly reward him for coming to your aid. A purse of silver will suffice.”
Janna’s heart sank. Godric might welcome owning such a sum, but she was sure he would resent the reasoning behind it, might even believe that her father was buying him off.
“Have no fear, Johanna. I shall be making enquiries regarding your mother’s death while I am in Wiltune with the king. I shall see justice done.”
“The nuns at Ambresberie who told me about you, and about my mother, said that they would petition the abbess to have her body taken from unhallowed ground and reburied at their own abbey. But the abbess may not have allowed it.”
“Then I shall also see that your mother’s mortal remains, and her memory, are honored as they should be,” John promised.
At his words, Janna felt some of the burden she had carried for so long lift from her shoulders. Yet there was still more she needed to accomplish, beginning with her father’s permission to accompany him on his quest for justice. She knew negotiating that would take all the tact and persuasive powers she possessed.
“There’s something else I have to tell you,” she began. She took a breath and stood tall, looking him straight in the eye. “Several things have happened while you’ve been gone. Awful things; things for which your wife blames me.”
Not giving her father any time to comment, Janna detailed everything that had happened in his absence. But, as she had no real proof that Richildis was responsible for at least some of the mischief, she did not tell him of her suspicions.
“I assure you on my mother’s life that I have no knowledge of any of this,” she concluded. “I have no need to steal anyone’s possessions. You have been more than generous to me and I have everything I could want. Nor would I do anything to hurt Rosy. She, more than anyone, has made me welcome and shown me friendship. In fact, we’ve just been shopping in the town, looking for a new cloth baby to replace her Marie.”
John nodded thoughtfully. “I shall speak to my wife,” he said. “It is only fair that I hear what she has to say before I make any decisions about these incidents. What I do know is that we cannot go on as we are. Somehow or other, the culprit must be found and dealt with. Do you have any thoughts as to who is behind this?”
Janna searched his face for the trust and love she hoped to find there, but his expression was guarded and watchful. With a sinking heart, she realized that he was not entirely convinced by her protestations of innocence. “No,” she said.
She watched him walk inside, her imagination already conjuring up the scene that would meet his arrival. Blanche, full of accusations and spite, her venom fueled no doubt by Richildis and Giles. She shivered. If her father believed them, she was doomed. But if he defended her, she was also doomed. Richildis would have nothing to lose and everything to gain by continuing her campaign of hatred.
All Janna could do was watch and wait. But she greatly feared what might happen next. She pitied Richildis, and also her mother. A belief that they were unloved, and certainly not valued, must fuel their spite, along with a determination to keep all her father’s property for themselves. But Janna knew she could not afford to feel pity. The family was united against her; they would do her down, and even do away with her, if they could. She had to protect herself, and if she stayed always in sight of them, they would not be able to accuse her of acting against them. Yet she longed to escape them all. She found their presence suffocating, and yearned for the days when she had been free to go where she pleased and see whom she pleased. Finding her father had caused more problems than she’d ever imagined; nevertheless, she was determined to court his favor, at least until she had carried out her promise to her mother.
After that? She would be reluctant to leave, for she had grown used to living well, to having servants perform the daily chores of life and put food regularly on the table for her. Set against that was her love for Godric – but if she left her father’s household there was even less likelihood they could ever be together. She hurriedly thrust that disagreeable conclusion aside. For now, her priority must be to stay alive and somehow protect her reputation.
*
As the family went in to dinner, her father drew her aside. “I’ve been talking to my wife,” he said gravely. “I know she holds you responsible for what’s happened in my absence. I wondered if you had anything to add to what you’ve already told me, Johanna?”
Janna took some comfort from the fact that her father wasn’t accusing her outright, that he was prepared to give her the chance to refute Blanche’s allegations. She drew him out of sight and hearing of the rest of the family. “That poisoned fruit pastry was no accident. I am quite sure its purpose was to get me out of the way,” she said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. She heard an indrawn breath, but John said nothing. “The stolen brooch – that could have been taken either for someone’s gai
n or to discredit me in your eyes. Probably the latter, for no servant would stash it in such an unlikely hiding place. For the other things that have gone missing?” Janna threw out her hands. A search of Richildis’s belongings might turn them up, but she wouldn’t mention that possibility just yet. “For gain, perhaps, but coupled with what followed makes me believe that the thefts were all part of the plan to discredit me.” Janna paused to gather her thoughts, for now they were coming to the core of her argument. “Putting a spider in Giles’s shoe and destroying Rosy’s rag baby – those seem more like the tricks of a spiteful child,” she continued
John heaved a weary sigh. “I’m inclined to agree with you.”
“Please, Papa, please can we leave for Wiltune now, without further delay? Your family hates me, surely you must see that? And I – ” Janna’s voice shook as she made the admission, “ – I fear what tricks may be played on me in the future, especially if you are not here to protect me. I fear there’ll be another attempt on my life.”
In the silence that followed, Janna thought that she had gone too far. She waited for her father’s judgment – there was no more she could say in her own defense, not without proof of her accusations.
“Tell me, if Richildis comes to Wiltune with us, do you think the infirmarian at the abbey will be able to bring her back to health?” John said at last.
Surprised by the change of subject, Janna nodded without thinking. “I am sure Sister Anne would take good care of her,” she said, before realizing with horror what her father was suggesting. But she’d gone too far to back out, even though having Richildis accompany them on their journey was something she most desperately wanted to prevent.
“Richildis tries too hard to please my wife,” her father mused.
“And I suspect she believes that whatever she can do to harm me will please her mother,” Janna added, taking the chance to speak her thoughts out loud.
“No!” John’s denial was instinctive. Janna knew she could say no more. She glanced at him, waiting for permission to go in to dinner, but he seemed unaware of her, his brow furrowed in thought. Finally he spoke. “You’ll have wondered why I’ve delayed our departure, but in truth I wanted to keep an eye on my daughter. We celebrate the time of her birth soon, and I wish to be here for that, for I am worried about her. In my absence she seems to have grown weaker. She is betrothed to a young lord in Normandy and is now of an age to be wed, but I fear she may not live long enough ever to find happiness as a wife and mother.”
“She’s not looking well,” Janna agreed, thinking privately that the best thing for Richildis – for her health and her peace of mind – would be to get as far away from her mother as possible, and stay there.
It seemed that she and her father were thinking along the same lines. “I’ve decided that as soon as we have celebrated the time of her birth, she will come with us to Wiltune to meet the king,” he said. “A change of air, a change of surroundings, will be good for her. And you have spoken so highly of Sister Anne that I shall ask her to look after Richildis. Perhaps she can make up some sort of tonic for her.”
“I can give her a tonic, if that’s what you wish,” Janna said sharply, trying to hide the dismay she felt at her father’s words.
“Ah, yes.” John’s gaze softened slightly. “You have your mother’s healing touch, I believe. Nevertheless, I know my daughter. And my wife. And I think it would be best if we asked Sister Anne to prepare the medication.”
Janna’s spirits fell. This was surely proof that her father still did not trust her. In silence, she followed him in to dinner, to find the rest of the family already assembled and waiting for them. She rinsed her hands and sat down, not looking at any of them for fear of what she might read in their faces.
Her father recited the blessing. As the servants brought the food, he announced his intentions regarding Richildis. The girl’s triumphant pleasure at the knowledge that she was to accompany her father to meet the king quickly turned into fury when she realized that Janna would also make up the party.
“I don’t want to go. Not if she’s going too!”
“It’s a great honor to be presented to King Stephen, Richildis. You will not have another chance once we return to Normandy.”
“I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere with that lowborn – ”
“Richildis!”
The girl pouted and turned her face from her father.
John cast a look of appeal at Janna. “Tell Richildis about Wiltune and the abbey there.”
“You’ll like it there, Richildis. Sister Anne is the infirmarian. She’s very wise, and she’ll give you a tonic that will soon put roses back in your cheeks.”
“I don’t need a tonic. There’s nothing wrong with how I look.”
Janna was tempted to tell the girl the truth, tempted also to tell her that Sister Anne wouldn’t stand for any of her nonsense. Instead, she said, “You’ll also meet Sister Ursel. She taught me how to read and write. You’ll like her, Richildis. She’s a gentle and loving friend.” Which was just what Richildis needed. “When I last saw Sister Ursel, she was writing the life of St Edith and illuminating her manuscript most beautifully. Her work will long be treasured by the abbey.”
Unimpressed, Richildis tossed her head. Janna shrugged. She’d done what she could.
“We shall celebrate your birth on the morrow, Richildis,” their father said sternly. “Johanna and I will leave the day after that, and you will come with us. I want you fully recovered in both health and spirits before we return to Normandy. I shall not see you wed until I am sure you are well again.”
Richildis glared at him. Janna waited for another explosion, but it didn’t come. Instead, the girl pushed away her trencher and flounced out of the room.
“Look, Papa!” Rosy brandished her rag baby for everyone to see. “Johanna bought a new rag baby for me.”
“Wherever did you find such an object?” Blanche looked down her nose at Janna.
“An old lady was selling them,” Rosy answered, before Janna could say a word. “She let me choose which one I wanted. She was ever so nice. And we also bought a present for Richildis, but you have to pay for it, Papa. You have to send a man to the goldsmith’s shop with the money. Gervase knows where to go.”
John raised a questioning eyebrow and waited for an explanation.
“It’s a beautiful mirror, but very costly,” Janna explained.
“Most unsuitable.” Blanche’s face scrunched up in displeasure.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” John contradicted his wife. “And I shall give it to Richildis myself.”
“And we also went to the bishop’s palace.”
“Why?” Blanche’s voice was sharp with suspicion.
Janna sighed, wishing Rosy wasn’t quite so forthcoming with information, and Rosy took the opportunity to answer.
“Johanna wants to make something nice for us to eat for Richildis’s birth celebration.”
Blanche turned her cold gaze on Janna. “You’re being uncommonly kind to my daughter.”
“Someone has to be.” As soon as she said the words, Janna regretted them. Blanche gave an outraged sniff, but her father reacted differently.
“It is a kind and generous thought, Johanna. And you have our thanks for it.”
His words brought the memory of a poisoned pastry into Janna’s mind, the pastry with a heart on it. She considered her words carefully before she ventured to speak.
“Richildis has been kind to me in the past. Indeed, was it not her idea to put the heart on the fruit pastry that you ordered to welcome me?”
“How did you know that?” Blanche stared at her. Then, as the implications of Janna’s question sank in, she puffed up, scarlet with fury. “What are you insinuating?”
Janna kept silent. So far as she was concerned, Richildis’s guilt was now proven. Which meant that Blanche might well have been ignorant of her daughter’s evil schemes. Even so, Janna could not warm to her stepmoth
er, for she was sure it was Blanche’s neglect and cruelty that had led Richildis to act as she had. The girl was desperate to win her mother’s love and approval. Perhaps she’d thought the best way to succeed in that was by ridding their family of the one person who threatened both her mother’s peace of mind and all their prospects. What troubled Janna was what her half-sister might try next, now that she was going to travel to Wiltune with them.
That night she lay awake listening to the quiet sobs coming from the girl lying beside her in the bed. Richildis had not returned to the table, nor had she appeared at the evening meal. It seemed she’d gone to bed early, for she was lying still, feigning sleep, when Janna and Rosy came in to the bedchamber. The crying had started later, perhaps when Richildis thought they were asleep and she would not be overheard. It was hard to find privacy to grieve; hard to find privacy for anything else either. Janna felt some sympathy, although not enough to risk starting an argument if she tried to comfort her.
She made sure to put on a bright face in the morning, and not let her suspicions show. “This marks the start of a new life for you, for you will soon be wed and will become mistress of your own demesne,” she congratulated Richildis, once she saw that the girl had woken.
Richildis scowled at her and turned away, not bothering to acknowledge her greeting.
“Johanna and I chose your present, Richildis,” Rosy piped up, “but Papa wants to give it to you himself. But we have something else for you.” To Janna’s surprise, she withdrew from under her pillow the rainbow of ribbons they’d chosen in the market place. “I’ve kept the red one, but you can have all these,” she said, and thrust them into her sister’s hands. “I chose them. There’s something to match all your gowns, Richildis.”
With a pleased smile, the girl took the ribbons from Rosy and unfurled them over the bed in a cascade of bright color. “Thank you,” she said, and held them up to admire them. Janna thought how attractive she looked when she was pleased and animated rather than sullen and withdrawn, and wondered if having a mirror to see the difference in her expression might prompt the girl to change her ways.
Day of Judgment: The Janna Chronicles 6 Page 12
