Pilgrim of Death: The Janna Chronicles 4

by Felicity Pulman

  “If it wasn’t the relic, what was it then?” Janna pressed.

  Ulf gave a small huff of laughter. “You were right. It was a hand.”

  “Whose hand?” Janna felt a bit queasy at she recalled the dog slurping and chewing its dinner, and the little fragments of bone and gristle that she’d found scattered on the grass afterwards.

  “It belonged to the moneyer.”

  “The moneyer?”

  “At Wiltune. Don’t you remember? His hand was cut off as punishment after he was found guilty of adding lead to the coins he made.”

  Janna gulped down a wave of nausea as she remembered the ugly scene they’d witnessed. “How did your dog get hold of his hand?”

  “Brutus must have stolen it,” Ulf admitted. “Usually the hand is nailed to the door of the mint, as a sign of the moneyer’s crime and as a warning to others. Whether it fell off the door, or Brutus helped it down…” He shook his head. Brutus thumped his tail, and licked his chops, almost as if he knew what they were talking about.

  Janna shuddered.

  “But I do thank you for not mentioning it to the abbey guard. I’m not sure what the punishment is for stealing hands.” Ulf glanced at Winifred once more. “But I suspect it could mean trouble if the theft becomes known.”

  Janna wondered if he was talking about a sacred relic or Brutus’s dinner. She didn’t like to ask. Winifred stepped into the breach.

  “You know, don’t you?”

  Ulf gave her a friendly grin. “I suspected, that’s all. I saw you dodging away from our group, and I watched you push summat into a patch of holly. Obviously you were desperate to keep whatever it was hidden from the guard. And you didn’t leave it behind either, for you’ve scratched your hands badly retrieving it!”

  Winifred quickly thrust her hands behind her back.

  “I’ve also noticed how interested you are in my collection of relics,” Ulf continued dryly.

  Winifred drew a shaky breath. She looked utterly wretched. “What are you going to do about it?” she whispered. “Will you tell the guard, will you claim the reward?”

  “’Tis tempting!”

  “You’d have to get hold of it first!” Janna stepped closer to Winifred to protect her, and the hand.

  Ulf shrugged. “I’m in the business of relics.” He said no more but Janna wondered if he’d go so far as to find something else to take its place and then claim the reward. Either way, she thought Winifred’s secret might be safe. He’d had the opportunity to tell the guard but had kept quiet about what he’d seen. For Winifred’s sake, she hoped she was right as, together, they walked on in an uncomfortable silence.

  Chapter 6

  Janna stopped dead, and gasped in wonder as they crested the hill and gazed down. The open plain spread before them, scorched to a pale golden brown in the heat of summer. At the center, and surrounded by a deep ditch and an earthen embankment, stood a great circle of giant stone pillars, with a jumble of larger and smaller stones inside. Although many of the huge monoliths had fallen, breaking the pattern, it was still possible to see that originally they’d formed circles within circles. The outside ring of colossal standing stones was linked in places by lintels that must once have formed a continuous parapet around the top. Janna marveled at how such huge monoliths could ever have been transported, yet their pattern was too ordered to be there by an accident of nature.

  “Merlin’s magic,” Ralph had called it. Although Janna wasn’t sure who Merlin was, she felt inclined to agree with him. No human hands could ever have shifted such a vast quantity of stone, and in so mighty a form.

  “It’s called Stonehenge,” said Ulf, as he waved a hand toward the ancient ruins.

  Even from a distance, Janna could sense their power and their mystery. She shivered, feeling suddenly cold as the hairs rose on her arms. There were numerous grassy mounds in the vicinity of the towering stones. She had seen such things before and knew them to be ancient burial mounds. It would seem that many people had died here at some time or another.

  She began to walk once more, keeping a sharp eye on the stone circle as they approached it, yet it seemed to be as distant as ever. The path they were taking had been trodden flat by other feet, and led in a straight line right into the heart of the stones. Janna had an eerie feeling that she’d become part of a continuum that dated back to the dawn of time, a time of mystery and magic. Delight mingled with dread. Ralph had mentioned pagan worship and sacrifice. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine what the henge might look like on a moonlit night. And suddenly she was there, inside the stones.

  A procession of robed people walked with her, carrying smoking torches to illuminate the darkness. They were singing, a strange harmonious chant that sounded like nothing Janna had heard during her year in the abbey but yet seemed profoundly spiritual and full of mystery. A figure at the head of the procession stopped and raised his hands for silence. He was dressed in a long robe and wore a golden band around his head. In his hand he carried a long staff. The ceremony began with what sounded like a prayer, a wailing invocation to the gods. A man was herded out of the stone circle under guard, and dragged to a slab of rock close to the earthen embankment at the entrance. The monolith lay flat along the ground, reminding Janna of an altar. The prisoner was dressed in a long white robe, belted at the waist. The chanting stopped and the assembly gathered around. Janna could sense the anticipation of the crowd in their restive movements, although there was a deep and absolute silence now. She peered more closely at the victim, thinking that he seemed in some way familiar. A hooded guard stepped forward and pushed the prisoner onto the fallen monolith. The other guards held him down. There was a flash of a silver knife. A cry gurgled into silence; blood spilled over stone.

  Janna quickly opened her eyes, desperate to dispel the dark scene she’d conjured up. She blinked, taking a few moments to orientate herself once more. The cry of desperation still sounded in her ears, haunting and real, and yet there was no robed figure, and no guards or sacrifice either.

  “Something good has happened here, a miracle of healing,” she muttered to herself, trying to allay the sense of foreboding that had turned her blood to ice. She forced her thoughts to the lame boy and his family, and the joy they must have felt when he had been made whole. News of the miracle must have spread far and wide, for, while the scene seemed utterly peaceful, they were certainly not the only visitors to the site. Others had arrived at the henge before them; she could see them moving about, tiny as ants next to the huge monoliths.

  The stones loomed above them, growing in height as the group came closer. Janna felt awed by their towering shapes, but she could not shake off her apprehension. Why such a feeling of dread? She wished she knew, and told herself she was jumping at shadows caused by her own vivid imagination. She was letting an old woman’s rambling get the better of her. So Janna scolded herself as she passed by a couple of standing stones and several fallen monoliths that formed a line down the center of the long avenue. Three huge portal stones stood guard at the end of it.

  She crossed the causeway over the deep ditch that enclosed the henge and walked through the long grass between the portal stones. The altar stone lay close beside them, just as she had seen it in her imagination. Janna shivered, and quickly walked on and into the stone circle. Pillars of stone towered above her, casting long, dark shadows in the leaching light of evening. Ravens perched on the lintels, or swooped between the huge monoliths. High above Janna’s head a hawk hovered, riding the currents while it searched the grassy downs for a tasty morsel.

  Winifred appeared at Janna’s side. “Isn’t this a truly wondrous place? I know I shouldn’t say that about something that looks so…so ungodly, but this is just…just…” She flapped her hands in helpless admiration.

  Janna nodded in agreement. The pilgrims had begun to move among the ruins now, exclaiming in astonishment. Still feeling unsettled, Janna stuck close to Winifred as they continued to explore. But before the pilgrim
s had a chance to spread out too far, Bernard clapped loudly to attract everyone’s attention. “My mother wishes to stay here tonight, so I suggest you find what shelter you may.”

  Janna glanced at Juliana. She didn’t need to be told what the old woman was thinking. Protection. Safety. She wondered to whom Juliana would pray this night, for this was not a Christian site; after the scene she’d conjured up from the past, Janna was willing to stake her life on it. Would the gods answer Juliana’s prayers and grant safety to her son? For her sake, for everyone’s sake, Janna hoped they would.

  Bernard seemed about to say something else, but glanced at his mother and stayed silent. Janna knew that he didn’t want to be here at all, was impatient to be gone. She was sure he would hurry them away at first light, and so she continued to explore the stone ruins in company with Winifred, determined to make the most of this opportunity to see everything there was to see.

  They nodded and smiled at several travelers as they passed by, many of them lame or in some way disfigured. Janna hoped they would all find the cures, or even the miracles, they were seeking. They were stopped by a question from an elderly man dressed in the black robe of a priest, and learned he was part of a larger group of pilgrims who were scattered elsewhere among the ruins. Janna lost interest as the priest and Winifred began to swap travelers’ tales, and wandered off. A huddled knot of people attracted her attention. Bernard was talking to a boy scarce grown to manhood. Janna understood his reason for being at the henge when she saw that he was missing an ear. A livid scar marred a face that otherwise would have bordered on handsome. Ralph and Adam stood beside Bernard, who frowned heavily as if listening to unwelcome news. Adam wore a calculating expression that Janna instinctively mistrusted, while Ralph stood slightly aside, observing them all. She wondered what the traveler was saying. Curious, she ventured closer and was in time to hear the boy say, “…and so ’tis said that the bishop is also at odds with the empress over her refusal to reconfirm the Honor of Boulogne on his nephew, Eustace. King Stephen’s son, that is.”

  Alarmed by what she’d heard, Janna flicked a glance in Bernard’s direction.

  “The bishop has withdrawn his support for the empress? Is that what you’re saying?” It was clear that Bernard had also recognized the problems attendant on this new situation, and that he shared her concerns about the letter found on the dead man’s body.

  The boy shrugged. “That’s what I was told.”

  “Is there any other information you can give us?” Bernard asked. The boy shook his head and moved onward, clearly more intent on his own salvation than satisfying the curiosity of strangers. Bernard stared after him, his face creased in thought.

  “Are you concerned for the empress?” Ralph asked.

  Bernard shot him a sharp look. “No!” he said roughly. “Merely curious. And you?”

  Ralph laughed. “I have enough to do, worrying about my own soul without worrying about affairs of state.”

  Bernard grunted, apparently satisfied. Without ado, he grabbed hold of Adam’s arm and dragged him off in the direction of his mother, who, Janna saw, was standing with Golde and Morcar. Janna could only guess at the argument that was likely to follow: Bernard would want to leave, move on straightaway. Juliana would want him to stay. And Ralph was still watching them, a witness to everything. Whether he knew it or not, his question had touched a nerve. Janna understood the reason for Bernard’s reaction. She wanted to make sure that Ralph did not.

  “It’s a great responsibility, trying to please all of the people all of the time, and at the same time steering us all safely to our destination,” she said, looking toward Bernard.

  “Seemingly one that our leader does not take lightly.” Ralph grinned at her. He stepped closer, and cupped his hand around her shoulder. “You were going to show me what you keep in your purse,” he said softly. “Is now a good time?”

  Janna looked about, and shook her head. “There are too many people here.” She gestured toward her waist, where the purse made a small bump through the fabric of her dress. “I have to wait until it’s properly dark.” She couldn’t spell out that she would need to disrobe, but a slow heat suffused her face; she was sure Ralph’s thoughts had followed her own.

  “I want to explore the henge before it gets too dark to see anything,” she said abruptly. “I’ll show you my father’s ring tomorrow.” She hurried off, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment when Ralph made no effort to follow her.

  She was walking quietly among the stones when Bernard found her. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out into an open spot where he could be sure they would not be overheard. “No matter what I told Ralph, and in spite of my mother’s wishes to the contrary, I’ve decided I must go to the empress straightaway,” he said quietly, for Janna’s ears only. “I’ll leave tonight, for I suspect, from what that boy told us, that the empress’s position might not be quite as secure as she thought. In fact, I fear that the bishop’s message might contain an ultimatum.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “For your own safety, Johanna, say nothing to anyone of the bishop’s messenger and the letter we found on him. Trust no-one.”

  Janna heard the urgency in Bernard’s voice, and sensed his fear on her behalf. She cursed her unguarded tongue as she remembered her conversation with Ralph. He already suspected they’d found a message, although she hadn’t told him whose seal it bore. But it was Ralph’s concern over his cousin that had prompted his questions, she reminded herself.

  “I’ll say nothing to anyone,” she promised, thinking it would only worry Bernard if she confessed what she’d already given away.

  “Good.” He gave her an approving smile. “And now I must continue to try to convince my mother that I have no choice but to go on alone. I pray you, mistress, take care of her while I’m gone. She has a morbid fancy that some ill will befall me. Much as I try to reassure her, I cannot console her or change her mind. I won’t be gone long, for I intend to buy a horse as soon as I may, and will ride hard to Oxeneford and back again to rejoin you all. After that, whether she will or no, I shall insist that my mother finish our journey on horseback.”

  “Are you in danger?” Janna could not shake off the memory of her vision; images of blood spilling onto stone haunted her.

  Bernard considered the question for a moment. “No. Why should you think so?”

  Janna couldn’t answer. If he didn’t believe in his mother’s premonition, he wouldn’t believe her either. “Go with God,” she said. “And return in safety too.”

  Bernard gave her a brief smile, but his eyes stayed watchful and wary, belying his reassuring words. “Don’t forget what I told you,” he said. “Trust no-one.”

  *

  After the scene of worship she’d imagined, with the violent sacrifice at its conclusion, Janna felt uneasy bedding down for the night within the circle of the henge. But Juliana had suggested they all stay together, and Janna wasn’t prepared to leave the safety of the pilgrim group to venture anywhere outside on her own. Ulf had lent her a length of homespun, which he’d pulled out of his pack. It was cut unevenly and Janna thought he might use bits of it to wrap up his relics as and when he came by them. Nevertheless, she accepted the homespun gratefully, for it meant she would have something to put between her new dress and the damp grass to sleep on.

  She huddled down between Winifred and Juliana in the shelter of a huge monolith. Juliana was now preserving a tight-lipped silence, but Janna could see that she cupped the relic she’d obtained from Ulf reverently in her hands. Her lips moved and Janna knew she was reciting prayers. For Bernard’s safety, no doubt. And perhaps also a prayer for her own healing.

  Janna closed her eyes against the dark, moonlit landscape that so closely resembled what she’d imagined earlier. She was sure her dreams would be haunted by the ghosts of the henge’s past, if she slept at all. But, tired after the day’s walk, she fell asleep almost instantly, dropping into a dark and silent void.

  Som
ething woke her; she sat up with a jerk. She looked around, but everything seemed still, and quiet. The monoliths towered above her, gigantic ghosts in the moonlight. She told herself to get up and investigate, but found she didn’t have the courage for it. What had disturbed her, what had she been dreaming? Nothing came to mind, other than some sort of noise. A cry for help? If so, no-one else had heard it, for her traveling companions lay undisturbed and fast asleep. Or were they? She tried counting them to see if all were present. There were only six when, with the arrival of Ralph, the count should have been nine including herself and Bernard – if he’d decided to delay his departure until dawn. In the darkness, it was impossible to tell who was missing, or even whether some of their band were sleeping elsewhere and she was, in fact, counting strangers. There were others camped here this night, as well as themselves. Morcar and his wife might well have sought more private shelter, while one or other of their party could have gone in search of a convenient bush after swilling down too much ale before bedtime.

  A thin scream pierced the silence. Janna tensed, half-expecting to see the pagan band circling among the stones, the condemned man, the flash of the blade, the blood on the altar. She felt sick with fear. And yet there was nothing to see, nor could she sense any movement. She listened intently. All seemed peaceful and still. She glanced upward and there, silhouetted against the silvery moonlight, she saw a dark shape glide silently overhead. A limp body dangled from its talons. A tawny owl. The terrified squeal of its prey must have woken her.

  She lay down again, feeling sweaty and tremulous with delayed shock. She was wide awake now, and far too frightened and on edge to go back to sleep. Now that she was fully conscious, the night seemed full of noises. Grunts and snores. A sudden loud fart. The cries of sleepers wrestling with nightmares. The intimate murmur of a couple with loving on their minds.