With bread and ale consumed, she left Edwin to wait for the cook to assemble their dinner, and to chat to the serving maids, for he had become a great favorite in the kitchen. She was trembling with fear and excitement as she gathered soapwort, mallow leaves and woundwort from the kitchen garden, before walking to the stables.
There was no sign of Hugh anywhere, nor anyone else other than a youth who was leading a small herd of nanny goats and their young through the yard toward the gate. As Janna watched, the boy raised his arm and aimed a pebble at one of the kids. It struck the goat on the rump and it jumped, bleating pitifully as it did so.
“Stop that!” Janna shouted. The boy hardly glanced at her before picking up another, larger stone. This time he aimed for the goat’s head. The animal dropped, stunned, and lay in the dirt, kicking feebly. Without thought, Janna raced toward the boy. Before he could run away, she had caught him, and she boxed his ears hard, packing all her new-found strength into the punch.
“Ow!” he shouted, wriggling and squirming in Janna’s grasp. “Let me go!”
“How dare you!” she panted. “How dare you harm that baby goat!”
“It’s for our dinner.” The boy had turned sullen now. “First finders of a dead animal gets to keep it, so Master Serlo says.”
“But I’ll wager Master Serlo doesn’t say you may first go out and kill it!” Janna gave the lad a hard shake.
“There’s no-one here to see me, ’cept you. Why should you care? Anyway, I’m not the only one what does it. There’s plenty others too.”
Janna doubted it, but she wasn’t prepared to debate the point with the lad.
“Then I’ll tell Master Serlo what you’ve done. If everyone else is doing it, he won’t mind, will he?”
She felt the goat boy cower against her. He began to tremble with fright. Janna understood why when Hugh’s cool voice interrupted them.
“What’s happening here, boy? Why are you throwing stones at my goats?”
Janna let the boy go. She stayed silent, leaving him to talk his way out of the situation as best he could. All bravado gone, he began to cry.
“Take the goats out and look after them properly, Eadwig,” Hugh said sternly. “Be sure I shall count them when you bring them in tonight. And when you get home, tell your father he’s to come to the manor house and bring you with him.”
The lad fled, leaving Janna alone with Hugh. She knelt to pick up the herbs she’d dropped when she’d grabbed hold of the goat’s tormentor, and smiled in relief as she watched the kid rise to its feet and stagger off to find its mother.
“I saw everything that happened,” Hugh said into the ensuing silence. “I was waiting just inside the stable. I heard you shouting at Eadwig. I saw it all, Johanna.”
Janna froze.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Hugh continued softly. “Your appearance might have changed, but your voice—and your manner—not at all!”
Janna stayed on her knees, clutching the herbs. She did not dare move or say anything. Hugh put his hand underneath her elbow, and yanked her upright. “I think you owe me an explanation,” he said coldly, and began to propel her toward the stable. “You can minister to Arrow while you tell me why you burnt your home to the ground and left us all to think that you were dead.”
“I did not set fire to my home, sire!” Janna was outraged that he could think such a thing.
He cocked his head to one side, studying her. “The abbess is wroth, for the cottage was her property and now it is destroyed. And Godric, the villein, told us that you died in the fire and that he has buried you in the forest. Why so many lies, Johanna, and to what purpose?” His voice lost some of its hard edge as he continued more softly, “Was the fire an accident? You know, because I told you, that Dame Alice agreed to pay heriot to the abbess and mortuary to the priest after the death of your mother, so there is no money owing. And if the fire was an accident, I doubt the abbess would hold you to blame, while the villagers would surely have helped you to rebuild your cottage and given you shelter until it was done. There was no need to flee, or to tell lies.”
How little you know of the villagers, Janna thought, as bitter memories filled her mind. She did not know what to say to Hugh, and so she stayed silent.
“In truth, I am disappointed,” he said, as he snicked open the latch and led her into the stable. “I thought you were honorable, and that you had more courage. I didn’t take you for a coward, Johanna.”
Janna could stay silent no longer. “I am not a coward, sire!”
“And yet you have run from the village, and even disguised yourself as a boy to escape detection.” Hugh stalked past a line of horses and stopped at Arrow’s stall. The destrier blew a gentle greeting as Janna caught up with him. She wondered if the animal remembered her. She stood awkwardly, uncertain how to make it lift its hoof so that she could inspect it. Hugh solved the problem by doing it for her. Janna clicked her tongue, distressed by the ugly wound that already was beginning to fester from the dung and dirt that had worked its way into the cut.
“I need boiling water and something to wrap the hoof,” she said. “I’ll have to cleanse it first. Then I’ll bind these healing herbs against the wound. You must not ride him, sire, or even take him out from the stall.” She glanced down at the dirty straw on which the horse stood. “It would be best if the horse stood on clean rushes for the while.”
Hugh grunted. But he released the horse’s hoof, and shouted for a stable lad to fetch what Janna needed. While they waited, he fixed his dark gaze on her once more. “Who is Edwin? What is he to you?”
“He’s…” Janna was going to claim him as her brother but knew that Hugh would not believe her. She decided to stick as close to the truth as she could. “I came across him in the forest, sire, in Gravelinges. I was alone, and frightened, and I asked if I might journey with him. It is true that he comes from Wales and that he has to seek his fortune after his eldest brother inherited both cot and land when his mother died.” Janna kept her fingers crossed behind her back against yet another lie. She hoped Hugh would not doubt her word as she added, “Please believe me, sire. I did not set fire to my cottage. That was the work of the villagers, and that is why Godric seeks to protect me now by saying that I died in the fire, and that he buried me.”
“The villagers burned your home?” Hugh sounded horrified. “Why would they do such a dreadful thing?”
“Because…” But even Janna’s quick wits could not come up with a convincing enough story other than telling Hugh the truth. But that she could not do for she was sure he would not believe her.
“I am sorry you did not bring your troubles to me, or to my aunt,” Hugh said, when it became clear that Janna would say no more. “We would have helped you. Dame Alice had great respect for your mother’s skill, and yours too.”
“I am sorry too, sire,” Janna said softly. “I was alone and frightened. With no home and no family to call on, it seemed best to flee and so I did.”
“You are safe now.” Hugh gave her a troubled glance. “There is no need to disguise yourself any longer, Johanna. You may stay here and help Mistress Tova in the kitchen. I know she would be glad of an extra hand. And heaven knows we often have need of a healer for burns, and broken bones, and especially the pox if it comes again. You could be very useful to me, if you wish to stay.”
“I thank you for your offer, sire. Of course I am happy to help anyone in need of a healer, but I would rather stay as I am—or as others think I am,” Janna said stiffly. She wanted to tell Hugh he was wrong; that she was no longer safe now that he knew her true identity. She would have to talk to Edwin, persuade him that they must leave and swiftly.
“You have nothing to fear from showing yourself as you truly are.” Hugh looked more puzzled than ever. “In truth, your disguise does not become you.”
Janna felt a painful blush stain her face as she recalled how he’d once looked at her with admiration in his eyes. No more, nor ever again. The thoug
ht stung. “I beg you, sire.” She forced herself to look into his eyes so he could see that she was in earnest. “Do not allow anyone to punish the villein, Godric, for his lies. He told them for my protection, just as I would ask you now, sire, to keep the truth about me to yourself. I–I cannot explain to you why my life is in jeopardy, but I beg you to believe it, and keep my secret if…if you care about my safety.”
Hugh stayed silent, still looking troubled.
“Please, sire!” In her desperation to secure his silence, Janna realized she’d grabbed hold of Hugh’s arm. Quickly, she released it. “Please, sire,” she said more quietly. “I matter to no-one other than those who wish me harm. Please protect me with your silence.”
“Very well.” The promise was given grudgingly. Clearly Hugh was unhappy about the course Janna had urged on him. “I know that the priest stirred up trouble against your mother, and that he might have influenced some of the villagers because of his refusal to bury her in consecrated ground,” he conceded. “I spoke to Dame Alice about the priest but she will not take action against him.” He stopped, and gnawed on his bottom lip. He seemed to be wondering how far he could take Janna into his confidence. “You must understand that this is a difficult situation for her,” he said at last. “My aunt married unwisely. Robert was her father’s steward, and after her father died he wooed Alice. Being her father’s only heir, and with all that property at her disposal, Alice was supposed to petition the king for permission to marry, but she was desperate to have Robert and no other. With a baby on the way, it became urgent to find someone who was prepared to wed them. This priest obliged and, when the living at the new church at Berford became available, he asked my aunt to put in a word to the abbess—”
He broke off as the stable lad came clattering in, bearing a bucket of hot water and the linen Janna had requested. But Hugh had said enough for Janna to understand the situation. Anger flared anew as she reflected how worthless Robert had proved to be. First, and to secure his future, he had seduced Dame Alice. Next, and for his own pleasure, he had seduced Cecily, the dame’s tiring woman. Janna wondered how many others Robert had seduced—and abandoned—during his marriage.
“You should know that I petitioned the Abbess of Wiltune for a requiem mass to be said for your mother’s soul, and for your own,” Hugh said, once they were alone again. “I must confess she was reluctant at first. It seems she knows something of your mother’s past, but I managed to convince her that both of you were worthy, and so it was done.” Hugh surveyed Janna, his face grave as he added: “Obviously a mass for the dead was not necessary on your account. I can only hope that you walk in the grace of God’s blessing, and that you will continue to do so.”
“Oh yes, sire, and thank you. With all my heart I thank you for your kindness.” So he had kept his promise to her! Janna felt almost giddy with relief.
“Hmph.” Hugh looked as if he needed convincing that he’d done the right thing. “And what plans do you have for the future?”
To go in search of my father, Janna thought. But she wasn’t prepared to take Hugh so fully into her confidence. “To go to Winchestre, sire, to seek employment there.” It was part of the truth.
“With Edwin?”
“With Edwin.”
“And still dressed like a youth?”
Janna nodded confirmation.
“Why don’t the two of you stay on here? I’ve already told you of your worth to me, and Edwin is a good worker.”
“Thank you, sire. You are very kind.” Janna had no intention of accepting his invitation, but she wasn’t about to tell Hugh that she was proposing to run away immediately, now her secret was uncovered. Instead, she set to work, crushing the waxy green leaves of soapwort into hot water and bathing the wound. The stable lad had returned with another bucket of clean, hot water, and this time he stayed to help Hugh keep tight hold of the destrier so that it would not move, or kick out at Janna while she worked. She was grateful for the lad’s presence, for it made further conversation difficult. Hugh had already given her much to think about, but she needed time alone to mull over what he had told her. For the moment, she concentrated on her task, feeling the great horse flinch as she set about binding its hoof, wrapping the linen tight to keep the healing herbs in place, and to prevent any dirt from entering the wound.
“Clean out this stall,” Hugh ordered, once Janna was finished and the horse was standing firmly on its feet once more. “Then go and cut some clean rushes to lay on the ground.” As Janna made to do what she was bid, Hugh grasped her arm. “Not you,” he said, angling his head toward the lad. “Him.”
“I am capable of doing the work just as well, my lord, and it will go quicker with two of us.”Janna felt an uneasy thrill in defying Hugh.
A smile hovered at the edge of his mouth. “I can see you haven’t changed anything other than your clothes. You are still as independent as you were when you lived with your mother. Very well, then. Do as you wish.”
“Thank you, sire.” Janna kept a smirk of triumph off her face with difficulty, as she seized a rake and began to gather the dung and dirty straw into a pile. When she looked up, Hugh’s silhouette blocked the light from the door; the next moment he had disappeared from view.
Rebuffing Janna’s attempts at conversation, the stable lad worked in sullen silence as they cleared Arrow’s stall. She wondered how much of her conversation with Hugh he had overheard. Enough to let him know that Hugh regarded her so highly he’d arranged a mass to be said for her soul? Had Hugh said her name in the boy’s hearing? Janna cast her mind back over their conversation, hoping her secret was still safe.
The lad went over to a row of implements then, and selected two scythes. He gave one to Janna. “To cut the rushes,” he said shortly, and led the way to the river.
Looking up at the fields, Janna noticed the blackened remains of the burnt haystack. With a feeling of dread, she realized what she needed to do. “Let’s cut the rushes further upstream,” she said, pointing in the direction of the haystack. The stable boy frowned at her, seeming resentful that she was taking charge. “It means we can carry the load downhill instead of up,” Janna pointed out.
He gave a grudging nod and changed direction. Janna followed him, veering off to the haystack as they walked past. She bent to examine the ashy remains. The scene and the smell reminded her of the time she’d searched the burnt ruins of her own home, and how her search had uncovered her mother’s secret cache with its clues to her father’s identity, the clues she could not read and didn’t know how to interpret.
Hugh’s words came back to her. He’d said that the abbess knew something of her mother’s past. She wondered now if, instead of fleeing in a blind panic, she should first have sought an audience with the abbess. Was it still possible? It would certainly be worth the risk of being seen by the villagers if the abbess could tell her where to begin her search for the truth about her mother—and her father.
Janna pushed the thought aside for consideration later, and began her search. She knew exactly what she was looking for and she examined everything very carefully, first the ruined remnants of the haystack, then widening her search to encompass other haystacks nearby. It didn’t take her long to spy it, the leaves a silvery green, the flowers a bright splotch of yellow tucked into the pale straw of a nearby haystack. Janna snatched out the posy of rue, and ground it to shreds under her boot. Too late, she wondered if she should have kept it to show Hugh or even brought him out with her to search the haystacks. Now that he knew the truth about her, would he have believed her suspicions, or had she already stretched his trust too far?
She looked to the stream, where the stable lad was already hard at work cutting rushes for Arrow’s stall. She hurried to join him. There was no sign of Edwin, or her dinner either. With haymaking over, the sheep had been washed and shearing had begun. The hurdles had been taken down after haymaking, so the animals were free to graze in the water meadows, but she couldn’t see them or their kee
per. She wondered where shearing would be taking place and where she needed to search for Edwin if she wanted her dinner.
She was sweating, hot and filthy by the time she and the stable lad had finished cleaning out Arrow’s stall and spreading armfuls of clean rushes over the bare earth floor. It seemed to her that the horse stood easier now. She knew Hugh’s pride in his sleek black destrier and, having an affinity for all living creatures and this one in particular, she hoped that the cure was already working, and that the wound would heal without leaving any lasting harm.
With her task over, Janna hurried to the well, keen to slake her thirst. She sank the bucket down, and wound it up again. After splashing cool water over her hands to cleanse them, she cupped them and drank her fill. She was glad to get away from the sullen stable lad, glad to have a few quiet moments alone to ponder her conversation with Hugh. She was mortified that he had recognized her and had found out all her lies, but she also felt an easing of mind that she no longer had to pretend, that he knew the truth—or most of it. She hated lies, hated deceit, and her anger flared anew at the memory of those who had made this subterfuge necessary.
Her thoughts turned then to the abbess, who knew something about her mother. Hugh had indicated that the abbess thought badly of Eadgyth. She would also think badly of Janna once she discovered that Janna was still alive, for she would believe that Janna had fled to escape the consequences of the destruction of her cot. Was it worth braving the abbess’s wrath in the hope she would relent enough to tell Janna what she knew?
With her thirst quenched, Janna sat for a few moments beside the well to rest and ponder the question. She leaned back against the rough stone wall with a weary sigh.
“Hello! My name’s Hamo. What’s yours?”
A child’s voice jerked her from her reverie. She sat upright with a gasp, feeling giddy and disorientated. This had happened once before. Was she dreaming now, or was it happening all over again? She blinked as a little boy’s bright face came into focus. She knew him. Just so had he introduced himself to her at the manor house at Babestoche. She looked about her. She was still on Hugh’s manor farm. She felt some relief that her mind wasn’t playing tricks after all. But what was Hamo doing here?
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