“What did you give Master Walter?” Ralph’s voice broke into her thoughts. In an agony of indecision, Janna was about to plead ignorance but Ralph’s grim expression checked her. “Master Thomas saw you,” he said, adding softly, “What did you give him, Janna, that has taken him off at such a fast gallop to Winchestre?”
She stared at Ralph in panic. She couldn’t deny what the jongleur had seen, nor could she tell him the truth, for the truth had the power to kill. Nor could she say that she’d given Walter a favor to carry, for if Ralph thought she was interested in Walter, or he in her, it would mean the end of their liaison and the end of any help he might give her. Should she rather say she’d given Walter a message to deliver? But what message? And to whom?
Her numb brain couldn’t think of anything that might convince Ralph other than the truth, for he knew she had no kin there. Should she tell him the truth, and put him to the test?
“A message, perhaps?” Ralph asked coldly. Janna heard the anger in his voice. After what felt like a lifetime of indecision, she inclined her head.
“You gave him a message?”
Sensing danger, Janna took a quick step backward. “Yes,” she whispered. “He told me where I might find my father, and I gave him a message to take to him.”
“But you don’t even know who your father is.” Ralph moved closer. She read his anger in the taut stillness of his body. His hands clenched, his long fingers curved into claws like the talons of a bird of prey. Shuddering, she dragged her gaze away from them. She looked into his face, dreading what she might see there.
“You’re lying to me! I believe you gave him the message that Master Bernard found on the dead man’s body. I believe you’ve had it all along!”
“No. I – I didn’t know I had it. I’ve only just found it.”
“Yet you gave it away to a stranger? Why didn’t you keep it to show me?”
Because I don’t trust you. Janna realized that had been true all along. She’d wanted to believe in love; wanted to believe his only thought was to help her achieve her quest. She’d been lying to herself as well as to him.
“I…didn’t know you were interested in the message we’d found,” she said instead. “You told me you were looking for your cousin – and I knew for sure that the dead man we discovered was not him.”
“You’ve lied to me! You’ve been lying ever since I met you. Why didn’t you trust me with the truth?”
“Because you were also lying to me, my lord.” Janna’s heart was beating so hard she thought it might explode in her chest, might shatter into a million tiny shards of pain. His cold, blue eyes held her transfixed. It was like looking into the face of a stranger.
“I thought we were friends,” he said softly. “In fact, I was hoping we were a lot more than just friends.”
It was what Janna had once longed to hear him say. But not anymore.
He grasped her wrist so hard that he hurt her, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t. Everything she had hoped for was standing here in front of her. Her dreams for the future, finding her father, finding love…It was all an illusion, for now she knew who and what he really was, and where his true interest lay. She was on the brink of losing everything, and she didn’t know how to save herself other than to keep silent about the contents of the letter.
“God help you for a fool,” he said tonelessly. “You cannot know the harm you’ll cause unless I can intercept your so-called friend.” He turned on his heel and tugged on the leading rein to bring his palfrey to his side.
“No!” Janna cried. “Please, wait!” For she knew, with terrible certainty, what Ralph was capable of, and what he intended to do. But his foot was in the stirrup, and even as she cried out, he vaulted up into the saddle and dug his heels into the horse’s side.
“You’re too late!” she shouted desperately. Ralph didn’t check or turn around, but instead spurred his mount to a gallop. Stricken and despairing, she watched as he rode out of her life, taking with him her shattered hopes and dreams, and placing in jeopardy the future of the empress and the safety of her envoy.
Chapter 12
“Don’t cry, lass. He’s no loss. I never trusted him anyway.” Ulf’s voice jerked Janna back to her surroundings.
“Neither did I,” Faldo echoed loyally.
Janna shook her head in abject misery. The ache in her heart had spread throughout her body. She felt completely undone. Silently, she cursed the misfortune that had brought her and Bernard to the dead man’s side. Bernard had died for it, and now her dreams had died along with him.
She tried to rally herself with the thought that it was as well she’d realized Ralph’s true worth before he could truly break her heart, for it was clear now that he knew what was in the letter, and had been sent by the Bishop of Winchestre to track it down – and no wonder, for the bishop’s treachery was plain to read in every line. Indignation stiffened Janna’s spine and helped to dry her tears as she recalled how Ralph had tried to woo her, seduce her into revealing what she knew, making false promises and kindling her hope of finding her father in the process. Her rage and horror intensified as the vision of Bernard’s slain body came into her mind. It was her fault he’d died, for it was she who’d let slip what they’d found.
“Stupid!” Janna berated herself. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” How naïve, how gullible she was to be taken in by Ralph’s charm and his lies. Janna’s anger with herself, and with Ralph, ran like a thread of bright fire through her misery. She’d been stupid, yes. She’d told lies, but her lies were the sins of omission. She’d concealed from Ralph what she’d believed was none of his concern. But he had lied and lied again to her. He’d led her on with kisses and flattery, and with promises that he would help her find her father, when all along his goal was either to find the letter or delay matters until such time that it was rendered harmless. Who was the faithless one now? Ralph had played her as Elanor played her harp, plucking her trust and devotion with his lying words and promises. She’d thought he cared about her, thought he cared enough to break his journey to help her find her father in Winchestre. Now that she knew the truth behind his real interest in her, she was devastated.
All too clearly she remembered the henge, and the disfigured boy’s careless words that had prompted Bernard to take action, and Ralph to retaliate. He must have searched for the message from the start, while knowing there was no urgency to find it while the pilgrims were still on the road. But he was with Bernard when the boy had mentioned the difference of opinion between the bishop and the empress. He’d understood Bernard’s resolve to delay no longer, and must have determined at that moment to prevent him. Janna could only imagine how angry and frustrated Ralph must have felt when, with Bernard dead and all the time in the world to search through his belongings, he had still been unable to find the bishop’s letter.
She closed her eyes against the pain of understanding what came next. Ralph had turned his attention to her, questioning her about the contents of her purse, and trying to win her trust by pretending to know how to find her father. He must have believed she knew where Bernard had hidden the message and that she’d found it during her search of his body and belongings. And so he had followed her, and kept her on side with his promises.
Ralph’s promises were bitter gall. She could hardly believe how she’d misread him when the evidence seemed so obvious now that she was looking at it from a different angle. His interest in her and her opinion of the empress. His interest in the contents of her purse – and the steps he’d taken to try to examine it. Janna shook her head in disbelief. Her failure rang like a litany through her brain. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
She remembered Juliana, and the old woman’s prophecy. “Death follows you,” she’d said. Had she known all along that her son would die because of what Janna would reveal to Ralph? No wonder the old woman had begged her to leave the pilgrim group. But it was already too late by then, Janna thought, and wondered if Juliana had known that too. She scr
unched up her face and squeezed her eyes tight, desperate to blot out the guilt she felt, and her remorse. If only she’d kept her mouth shut. If only…
But it was too late now for “If only.” Too late for her, but not for the empress. A thin sinew of pride helped to strengthen her. Ralph had known from the start what he was about and, yes, she had been gulled by him. But in the end, and by the greatest good fortune, she had managed to outwit him. The letter was safe and on its way to the earl, just as Bernard had intended. But Ralph had gone in pursuit. If he caught up with Walter along the way, he would slaughter him as he had slaughtered Walter’s brother! Janna put a hand to her heart. She could feel it beating hard beneath her fingers, urgent as the beat of a horse’s hooves galloping on to Winchestre.
“Janna?” Ulf touched her elbow. She swung to face him, hardly able to talk or even breathe, so great was her misery. “Janna,” he said again, and grasped her arms. He gave her a little shake, trying to bring her back to the present, to reality.
“It’s all right,” he said gently. “I’m here, lass. You can trust me. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll help you.”
Trust? Janna clasped her arms around her body and rocked to and fro. Tears, scalding as liquid fire, ran down her cheeks. She had to get to Winchestre without delay – but how? She didn’t know which way to turn. She didn’t know who she could trust. Trust no-one. That was the edict her mother lived by, but it had led to disaster. Trust no-one, Walter had told her, and so had Bernard. Janna wiped her eyes on her sleeve, no longer caring if the moisture stained the delicate fabric. She peered at Ulf, wanting to believe in him but afraid to trust anyone now.
“Why should you want to help me?” she asked gruffly.
“Because you’ve helped me in the past,” Ulf answered readily enough. “You kept quiet when the guard might have arrested me for stealing the hand of St James. And you patched me up when those drunken idiots broke my nose.” He raised his hand to his face, wincing at the memory. “You also found the means to cure my rheum. You have a kind heart, Janna. I haven’t forgotten that.”
Janna looked at him. She wanted to believe him. But Ralph’s betrayal had shattered her confidence in her own judgment. Trust nobody, she thought again. It was safer, after all. She folded her arms against him, and kept silent.
Ulf sighed. “Perhaps there’s something I should share with you. Faldo, could you leave us alone, please?” His words were an order rather than a request. The boy looked from Ulf to Janna, clearly reluctant to miss a moment of a story that promised to be even more dramatic than the doom of King Arthur. But Ulf jerked his head, his intention unmistakable. Reluctantly, Faldo walked away.
“I expect you’re wondering why I’ve been following you around?” Ulf said quietly. “You may even have cast me as the villain in all this, for I know you thought the world of Ralph.”
Janna felt a wave of desolation wash over her at the mention of Ralph’s name. It was mixed with a feeling of shame that Ulf had read her mind so clearly.
“Let me tell you something,” he said now. “It’s true that Dame Juliana asked me to watch over you. She knew it would make no difference to me whether I traveled on to Oxeneford or went somewhere else instead. But I had my own reasons for wanting to protect you. You see…” He rubbed a hand across his mouth as he searched for the words he wanted. All trace of his customary gaiety was gone now. Janna found she was looking into the face of a man who was familiar with sorrow and despair. “I had a daughter once.”
Janna pricked up her ears. Ulf had told her that he had no home and no family. So what, then, was this?
“My wife died shortly after she was born, but my daughter thrived. Mildryth, her name was. She grew up bright and bonny as a butterfly. She would have been about your age now, if she had lived.” He stopped to draw in a shaky breath.
“What happened to her?” Janna prompted gently.
“She drowned when she was but five summers old. She was my responsibility, the love of my life. And I let her drown. I should have been watching out for her, but instead I was drinking at an alehouse with friends. By the time I realized she was missing, it was too late. She was gone.” There was a glint of tears in Ulf’s eyes as he struggled to collect himself. “I couldn’t save her, and I have lived with that regret every day of my life since. When Juliana asked me to watch over you, I said that I would. In some measure it goes toward making up for my neglect of my own daughter.”
Janna bowed her head, feeling mortified that she could ever have doubted Ulf’s good faith. She tried to find the words to frame an apology.
“I haven’t always lived on the road,” Ulf continued, perhaps misunderstanding her silence. “I left my home up north after Mildryth drowned. I turned my back on everything and took to the road and to the drink. My life was down in the gutter until, one day, I met a relic seller. We talked, and for the first time I found myself unburdening my guilt over my daughter’s death. Of the goodness of his heart, he gave me what he said was the toe of St Peter. And he advised me to forgive myself. Here, let me show you.” He fumbled in the purse slung around his neck. He pulled out a small cloth-wrapped bundle and unrolled it for Janna’s inspection. “I’ll never part with this, for it turned my life around, I can tell you.”
Janna peered dubiously at the small bone. Ulf swiftly rolled it up and put it away again. “I decided then that I would also become a relic seller, because we all need hope, we cannot live without it,” he said. “I went on a pilgrimage to the tomb of St James to pray for my daughter and to give thanks that I had found a new purpose in life. And I believe now that my way was made clear when I decided to continue my journey with the pilgrims and came to meet you, lass. I couldn’t save my own daughter, but perhaps I can atone for it by helping you now. If there’s owt I can do for you, you have only to ask. I have no other motive than wanting to make things right for you. But I can swear my good faith on a sliver of the true cross of Christ if it’ll make you feel any better?”
“I thought you’d sold – given – that particular relic to Juliana?” Janna was somewhat reassured that at least her thoughts were ordered enough to remember the occasion.
“I have another. But I’ll swear on something else, if you prefer?” In spite of the sadness of his memories and the gravity of the situation, a challenging twinkle glinted in Ulf’s eyes.
Janna found herself responding to it with some relief. “The eyelash of St Edith? The quill with which St Paul wrote his letters?”
“That would be worth having,” Ulf said wistfully. Janna gave an impatient exclamation. Ulf smiled at her, and put his hand on his heart. “I swear I will do all in my power to help you. I swear it on the toe of St Peter.” There was no doubting the sincerity in his voice.
“First tell me one thing. Who do you support in this battle for the crown, the king or the empress?” Janna needed to know for, up until now, Ulf had always refused to be drawn on the subject.
“I have always found it better, safer, not to take sides. I told you that before.”
“But you must tell me the truth now. I need to know.”
Ulf pulled a face. “The empress. I suppose it’s safe to admit as much to you, for Dame Juliana made her feelings plain to me after Bernard’s death. As you didn’t speak out at the time, I’m assuming you shared their regard for the empress.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Very well, then. We are in agreement, it seems. Besides…” Ulf glanced sideways at Janna. “Stephen has proved not fit to govern, while the Empress Matilda may yet bring peace to our land. So I would help her, if I could.”
Janna weighed up her options. His support might not be quite as wholehearted as she would have liked, but it would have to do. “I have to get to Winchestre. Fast,” she said.
Ulf nodded. “I thought so.” He was silent for a moment as he contemplated possibilities.
“If only your dog was a little bigger, I could ride him,” Janna ventured.
Ulf gave a quick snort of
amusement. “Winchestre isn’t all that far from here,” he said. “When I talked to our hosts last night they mentioned it is but ten miles away and we’ve covered part of that already. If we set off now, if we walk without stopping, we should reach the gates of Winchestre some time this evening.”
“But we won’t get there in time to warn – ” Janna gulped, and looked hard at Ulf.
He stared back at her, grave and unsmiling once again. Beside him, Brutus quivered, and thumped his tail. Ulf dropped his hand to scratch the dog’s head and Brutus’s tail wagged harder. There was no mistaking the bond between the two, the trust and love between them. It helped Janna to make up her mind.
“I have to warn Master Walter.” Janna drew a deep, shuddering sigh. “I’ve found the letter that Bernard was killed for. It was hidden in his staff. It’s a letter from the bishop to his brother, the king. It reveals that the bishop has always supported his brother, and that he plans to trap the empress if he can. Walter has taken it to Earl Robert, to warn him that the bishop is a traitor. But Ralph knows what’s in the letter and that Walter has it. He’s gone after Walter, and I know that he will stop him if he can, even kill him if he must. Ralph…” Tears burned Janna’s eyes, blurring her vision. “Ralph is the bishop’s agent.”
“Christ’s bones!” Ulf pursed his lips in a long, silent whistle.
“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” Janna said wretchedly. “If I’d confided in you sooner, we might have found some way to avoid raising Ralph’s suspicions.”
“I doubt it would have made any difference in the end.” Ulf put his head on one side, considering the matter. “We cannot catch up with either Ralph or Walter, not without mounts of our own. But take heart, Janna.” He took his hand from the dog’s head and rubbed Janna’s arm instead. She found the gesture strangely reassuring. “Master Walter knows his brother was killed for the letter he carried. He knows its importance, while Master Bernard did not. And so he’ll guard himself as well as the letter. He won’t make the same mistake his brother made.”
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