“He also knows what Ralph looks like,” Janna said, slightly cheered as she recalled that Walter had seen him at the smithy. “But he doesn’t know that Ralph is after him!”
“Then we’ll follow them, Janna. We must warn Walter if we can.” He looked over her shoulder and gave a sudden loud whistle. “Hoy!” he shouted.
Janna swung around to see what he was about. Several riders were approaching, merchants judging by the packs that hung from either side of their saddles. At Ulf’s whistle, they slowed down and surveyed the jongleurs with cautious expressions, ready to gallop away at the slightest hint of trouble.
“Can you offer us a ride to Winchestre, my friend?” Ulf called out to the leader. The man surveyed them with a stony expression. Janna held her breath as she waited for his reply.
“For the young lass here.” Ulf gestured toward Janna, perhaps hoping to disarm the man’s suspicion. The merchant’s expression changed to a greedy awareness. His tongue flickered across his lips and he smiled.
Janna felt a twinge of misgiving. It seemed that Ulf was also having second thoughts. “And a ride for me too,” he said, glancing at the other two merchants who had stopped alongside their partner.
The leader’s eyes moved from Janna to Ulf, and back again. “No,” he said curtly. “You’ll hold us back. Only the girl.”
Janna shrank back against Ulf. “I don’t go anywhere unless…unless my uncle comes with me.”
“Suit yourself.” The merchant jerked on the reins, and the horse moved on. One of the merchant’s companions gave a rueful shrug, and they both trotted after him.
“Stupid idea. My pardon, lass,” Ulf said, once they were out of hearing. “I was thinking of the fastest way to get you to Winchestre. I didn’t stop to think you might be in even more danger if you went with ’em.”
“I was glad to see them go,” Janna admitted. She regretted the lost ride, but understood well from the men’s expressions what might have happened to her along the way if she’d accompanied them. In fact, she might never have reached her destination at all. She shivered at the thought, and jerked her head in the direction that the merchants had taken.
“Let’s say our goodbyes and walk on,” she said urgently, yanking on Ulf’s arm to drag him with her toward the leader of the jongleurs.
“I hope I did no harm in telling Ralph de Otreburne about your meeting with Master Walter?” Master Thomas greeted Janna. “I had no idea he’d leave us like that, without even saying farewell.”
“Do not fret, Master Thomas. I know Ralph to be skilled at asking questions and getting answers.” Janna gave the jongleur the reassurance he wanted, for the harm was already done and there was no undoing it. Nor did she want to waste time debating it. She was consumed with impatience to reach Winchestre.” We must also leave you now,” she said. “We need to hurry on to Winchestre.”
“You’re going after him?” Thomas asked, not specifying who they were following, although Janna was fairly sure he meant Ralph. She ducked her head in agreement. It was almost the truth. So far as she was concerned, she never wanted to see Ralph again. But she was certainly following him, if only to do her best to keep Walter safe.
Saying goodbye to Faldo was more difficult, for she’d grown fond of the boy and was grateful to him for having the patience to teach her how to sing.
“But there’s no need to say goodbye. I’ll see you when we arrive at Winchestre,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. “You’re going to stay on there, aren’t you? And so are we.”
“I’ll look out for you there, then,” Janna promised, with a cheerful smile she didn’t feel. “Come on, Ulf.” The drumming of the horse’s hooves still sounded in her ears and beat hard in her heart. She was desperate to be gone.
Chapter 13
Janna’s feet were blistered and her legs were aching by the time they came to the town walls, which loomed dark and bulky against the night sky. They had walked through the long twilight, with only the light of the moon to guide their steps for the last mile. But Ulf had led the way, his sure strides bringing them ever closer to their destination.
“Have you been here before, Ulf?” she asked.
“Aye, several times. To St Giles Fair. It’s held every September, and it’s one of the biggest in the land. Those merchants who passed us? This is where they were coming, and why.” He scowled. “Low-life scum!” He spat into a nearby pond, his spittle disturbing the stagnant water so that the shine of moonlight fragmented and shivered for a moment. Judging from the smell, there was vegetable matter decomposing there and possibly even a dead animal or two. Janna wrinkled her nose and tried to breathe through her mouth.
Ulf stopped walking and looked at the small settlement that had leaked outside the town walls. All was now in darkness. “I’m afraid we’re too late to gain entrance through the town gates, but there’s a small church adjoining the West Gate. St Mary in the Ditch, it’s called. We may find shelter there for the night.”
“How far is it?” Janna was so weary she just wanted to lie down and sleep, although she’d rather put some distance between her and the noisome pond before she did so.
“Not much further. That’s the West Gate ahead, see?” Ulf pointed. Janna could just make out the extra height of the gate tower in the dark, higher than the earthen ramparts packed against the walls on either side. “The royal castle is there, on our right,” Ulf continued, “and St Mary’s is just along here.” He flung his arms wide in triumph as the stone bulk of a small church took shape in the darkness. The flickering light of a torch illuminated its entrance, shedding light also on a rope beside the door, which Ulf wasted no time in pulling. But no-one came out to answer their summons, nor could they hear any sound of a bell ringing inside.
“Perhaps they untie the bell once it gets late?” Ulf hammered on the door with his knuckles. When even a loud shout produced no response, Janna decided it was time to make another plan. She remembered a grove of trees they had passed. It was not too far away and the trees would provide shelter should it rain.
“Let’s just stay out in the open for the night,” she said, and turned to walk back in the direction from which they’d come.
“I can’t make you out, Janna,” Ulf said, as he followed her. “I must say, you’re very accommodating for a highborn lady.”
“That’s because I’m not highborn,” Janna said with a chuckle, and proceeded to tell Ulf something of her background as they walked along. He’d trusted her with the truth of his situation, and now it was her turn. She hoped her trust was not misplaced, and that she wasn’t about to put herself in jeopardy. But, after what Ulf had told her of his daughter, Janna felt reasonably sure she would not come to harm in his care.
She glanced at him as they trudged back along the track. So far as relics were concerned, she certainly didn’t believe everything he said. But on everything else, everything that mattered, she thought he’d prove reliable.
The grove loomed ahead, myriad dark shapes against the star-spattered sky. With a sigh of relief, Janna hastened toward it. She subsided onto the ground, and propped her back against a lofty elm for comfort. She was so tired she was ready to go to sleep sitting up. Beside her, Ulf unrolled his cloak from his pack and spread it out. He put down his pack for use as a pillow. “You should be comfortable enough here, Janna,” he said, leaning over to heave Brutus out of the way, for the dog had immediately sprawled out over the cloak and was feigning sleep.
“No. It’s your cloak. You sleep there.” Janna was embarrassed by Ulf’s gesture, and somewhat shy. Ulf laughed, and walked away. “Go on,” he said, and gave the dog a gentle nudge with his foot. “Brutus will protect your honor.”
The dog wagged its tail, but didn’t budge. Janna wondered if it had fleas, and reassured herself that at least the creature’s body would provide some warmth. She glanced over at Ulf. He’d found himself a grassy spot and, as Janna watched, he stretched out, pillowing his cheek on his arm. “Sleep well, lass,” he called.
“Good night, Ulf. And thank you.” Janna hesitated. “For everything.” She lay down on the cloak, feeling the warmth emanating from the animal beside her, but also smelling the pungent aroma of his coat. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all! She turned her back on the dog so her nose wasn’t quite so close to the source of the smell, and closed her eyes. But her mind would not shut down, for at once she found herself replaying that final heart-wrenching scene with Ralph. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling weighed down with sorrow and guilt. Ralph had wooed and won her with only one purpose on his mind: to find the bishop’s letter. Bernard had died because of her. So, too, might Walter die unless they could find him in time to warn him.
Restless and agitated, Janna turned over, breathed in a lungful of dog stink, and hastily turned away again. She had given Ralph her love in the belief that he cared about her. Worse, she had trusted him to help her find her father. And in that, too, he had betrayed her. It was this betrayal that cut deepest. That she could have been so stupid, so gullible as to think he’d set aside important business of his own – and on that, too, he had lied – to go chasing rainbows on her behalf? Janna shook her head in wonder at her naïvety. She was furious with Ralph, and furious with herself. And yet she was sure she hadn’t misread his surprise when she’d shown him her father’s ring. There’d been a flash of recognition. That, too, had led her to believe that his interest was genuine, and his offer to find her father heartfelt in its sincerity. But that was over now, all over.
Her thoughts turned to Bernard, and her rage against Ralph returned in full force. She felt a deep and bitter regret for the part she had played in Bernard’s death, but Bernard wasn’t the only victim. There was also Adam, sitting now in the dungeon in Sarisberie and about to come to trial for a murder he didn’t commit.
My fault, Janna thought wretchedly, wishing there was something – anything – she could do to put things right. But there wasn’t. She would just have to live with the knowledge of her own stupidity, and its consequences.
*
She awoke to the sounds of birdsong. It took her a few moments to remember where she was, and why she was here. At once a crushing sorrow rushed back, swamping her in its depths. She sat up and scrubbed her eyes, trying to find the courage to face the day. Beside her, Brutus stirred. He opened one eye and looked at her. To Janna’s surprise, his tail twitched in greeting, but whether for her or for the sunrise, she wasn’t quite sure. She remembered the first time she’d tried to make friends with him, and had almost had her hand bitten off. “You old rascal,” she said softly, and held out her hand to him. His tail lifted and waved like a feathery flag. Now that they’d slept together, she’d definitely become a friend!
“Are you talking to me?” Ulf asked sleepily, with his eyes still shut.
“Yes.” Janna felt cheered enough by this unexpected show of friendliness from the big dog to tease Ulf. “A rascal and a lazy-bones.” She was suddenly consumed with anxiety, by the need to be gone. She sprang to her feet, and stood over Ulf. “I have to go. I have to find Walter and the earl.”
At once Ulf opened his eyes. “I’ll come with you.” He jumped up, pulled his cloak out from under the heavy weight of his hound and rolled it up, prior to stashing it away in his pack. Janna hesitated, pleased by his offer but not wanting him to follow her just yet.
“I’m going to find some bushes first,” she said and walked off, trusting him not to come after her. But Brutus did, crashing ahead into the undergrowth. Janna followed in his wake, hoping he’d frighten off any biting creatures and destroy all clinging spider webs in his headlong charge.
She came back to Ulf, now feeling hungry and thirsty. Wordlessly, he handed her a hunk of hard bread. He himself was already chewing. He took a swig of ale to wash down the mouthful, and held the leather bottle out to Janna. She smiled her thanks and took a few gulps. Where did Ulf come across these provisions? She looked at his bulging pack for the answer. Everything he owned must be in that pack. No wonder it was so large! Like a tortoise, he traveled with his home on his back. And yet, he’d carried it without complaint on their forced march yesterday, setting the fast pace that had brought them to Winchestre.
Ulf threw a few scraps of bread to Brutus. The dog swallowed them greedily, then put his nose to the ground and began to sniff around for something more promising. As they began the walk back along the road to Winchestre, the dog ran ahead of them. They came to a stagnant pond. Janna recognized the smell, and realized that this was where they’d briefly halted the night before. “Brutus!” Ulf yelled. But he was too late, for the dog had already plunged into the scummy water and was lapping it up with enjoyment. The water reached up to his stomach, staining his pale coat dark with dirt and mud.
With his thirst quenched, the dog began sniffing at the various objects mired in the shallows before selecting something that looked like a decaying animal. Sickened, Janna turned aside and kept on walking.
“He’ll catch up with us when he’s done,” Ulf said cheerfully. Janna pulled her mouth down in disgust. “He’d rather eat than starve,” Ulf said more seriously. “That’s something you learn along the road, Janna. There isn’t always a coin to pay for pies and ale and you can’t always depend on charity either.”
“I know.” And Janna did. Even though she now carried some coins in her purse, she had known hunger in her life. But never hunger great enough to take her into a stinking pond, she acknowledged.
A massive earthen rampart loomed ahead. It was fronted by a wide ditch, which curved to their right around the castle walls. Another rampart and ditch protected the town wall to their left, the wall fortified with projecting towers at intervals for added security. The town was almost impregnable. Ulf gave a loud whistle. She glanced back to see Brutus coming up at a fast gallop. He skidded to a stop beside them and shook himself, sending a shower of filthy droplets their way.
“I hate how he does that,” said Ulf, taking a quick step backward and dragging Janna out of the way as he did so, but he was too late. Janna looked down ruefully at her pretty gown. It was stained with the dust of her journey, and now bore an additional decoration of splatters of black mud. “I’m so sorry, lass,” Ulf apologized, as he noted the full extent of the damage.
“I’ll sponge it down; I’m sure the worst of it will come off.” In spite of her reassuring words, Janna was certain she would ruin the delicate fabric if she tried. But there were other, more urgent matters to occupy her mind right now. “You know the town, Ulf. Where should we start our search for the earl, and Walter?”
“There are two, maybe three places we might try. The castle over there.” He flipped a thumb to his right. “Or we can go on and through the West Gate and down the High Street. There’s an old palace halfway along, close to the cathedral. I don’t know if that’s worth a visit.” He scratched his nose, looking thoughtful. “The bishop’s main palace is called Wolvesey; it’s beside the river Itchen,” he continued. “That’s on the other side of the town. We’re on Wude Street now, and there’s a road leading off from here that will take us right to the Great Gate of the castle. I think it best to start our search there, for it’s where the earl’s most likely to be. But first, we must make a plan. What excuse shall we use to gain access to the castle?”
“I don’t know.” Janna stared at Ulf in dismay. “This is where we need the jongleurs!” she exclaimed. “Or could you offer to sell – I mean, show them your relics?”
Ulf brightened at the thought. “It’s worth a try.”
“But you won’t, will you? Unpack your bag, I mean. We mustn’t waste time!”
Ulf’s face fell.
“We just need to find out if Robert of Gloucestre is in residence,” Janna said, making sure he understood her meaning. “If he is, then you can show everyone what you’ve got in your pack. You can take as long as you like while I try to find the earl.”
“Let’s hope he’s in residence then.” Ulf shouldered his pack and, together,
they followed the road to the drawbridge and gatehouse that formed the entrance to the castle. There they were met by a burly guard who, it seemed, took himself and his duties very seriously. Some fast talking on Ulf’s part soon captured the guard’s interest, though, and within moments Ulf had his pack off his back and was busy opening it.
“We are here to enquire after Robert of Gloucestre,” Janna said, with a stern glance at Ulf. “Is he within?”
“Yes, but it’s early yet. The earl will still be abed.” The guard looked up at Janna in surprise. It seemed he’d hardly noticed her presence. Now that he had, his look turned to one of guarded suspicion. “What business do you have with him?”
“Private business.”
The guard looked down his nose at Janna. “The earl does not receive ladies uninvited.” The emphasis on the word left Janna in no doubt as to what the guard was thinking. She felt a surge of anger, but a moment’s thought cooled her indignation. Let the guard think what he liked, so long as her purpose was served.
“And how do you know I am uninvited?” she asked, forcing a coquettish smile and a waggle of her hips to bolster her disguise. “He will not thank you for keeping him waiting.”
The guard stared at her. Janna wondered if she’d managed to convince him.
“Very well.” He gave a grudging nod. “Go to the royal apartments and state your business there.” He turned to peer into the open pack in front of him.
Janna tilted her head at Ulf, for she needed him to accompany her. Reluctantly, he closed his pack. “I’ll show you my treasures on the way out,” he promised the guard.
There was a massive motte at each end of the bailey. The northern motte, close to the West Gate, was topped by a high stone keep that dominated its surrounds. Backing onto the wall, and close to the gate through which they’d just entered, were numerous buildings, including barns, sheds, stables and a smithy. Ahead, Janna saw a chapel along with what looked like a royal hall and apartments. Ulf steered Janna toward them. This time he had a small box ready in his hand as they approached the entrance.
Pilgrim of Death: The Janna Chronicles 4 Page 22