“I suppose you could stay here,” Bertha said reluctantly. “The animals are my responsibility. No-one else comes out here but me. And my father, when he needs more wood, but Edwin knows to stay hidden unless he hears my voice.”
“No, I thank you. I’ll find somewhere else to hide.” Janna scowled in concentration. Where could she go, and what could she do to help find Hamo? “I wish I knew for certain whether he was lost or taken!” she burst out.
“Taken? Who?” Bertha turned to Janna in confusion.
“Hamo.” She was silent a moment, wondering if she could take Bertha into her confidence. Yes, she decided. She’d worried her head until it was sore: maybe three heads would be better than one at working out this puzzle. Besides, Bertha had lived here all her life; she might well know something from the past to help make sense of the present.
“I wish I knew whether Hamo’s disappearance was connected in any way with all the other so-called accidents that have happened here,” she said carefully, and went on to remind them of each incident and told them how a sprig of rue had been left to mark each scene. Talking about it helped to get the sequence of events clear in her mind, she found. “I thought Hamo’s disappearance was yet another ‘accident’ when I found the posy of rue beside the door of the undercroft,” she continued, “but when Serlo accused me—us—of stealing the woolen cloth and goblets, I thought I must be mistaken, and that the rue was left to mark their loss instead. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“Why? What have the accidents and Hamo going missing got to do with each other?” Bertha asked.
“I wish I knew,” Janna said again. “It’s just that after I found the rue, I decided to search the undercroft myself to see if it meant anything. Serlo claims that the missing articles came from some storage chests, but I know they were all locked when I tried them.” She frowned, worried that she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask. “Whoever took those things must have had a key to open the chests,” she said. “So who would have a key?”
“The lord Hugh. Master Serlo. Mistress Tova, and maybe Gytha?” Bertha offered. She laughed, and shook her head. “But that’s silly. Why would any one of them wish to cause harm to the manor—or to Hamo? Unless—” She stopped abruptly.
“Unless?” Janna prompted, dreading to have her suspicions confirmed by the carpenter’s daughter.
“Gytha’s mother wants her to marry the reeve. Serlo has a good position and is held in great respect. He owns his cottage and the gore acres around it and, whatever happens to the lord Hugh once Hamo inherits this property, you can be sure that Master Serlo will keep his position here. But Gytha is determined that she’ll wed my lord and no other.”
Janna nodded. This she already knew. She waited for Bertha to explain herself further.
“I’m wondering if Gytha knows something about Hamo’s disappearance? It’s terrible even to think it, but if aught happens to Hamo then the lord Hugh will inherit all Dame Alice’s fortune, including this manor. That would please Gytha greatly. Hamo is the greatest barrier to her becoming the lord’s wife and the lady of his manor.”
“Gytha?” Janna hadn’t considered the young beauty before. She wondered if there could be any truth in Bertha’s words.
“Gytha must surely know that if the lord Hugh inherits nothing when Hamo comes of age, he will need to marry someone with a fortune. He certainly won’t look at her,” Bertha continued. “Has anyone asked Gytha what she knows about Hamo’s disappearance? She could even be the cause of it!”
“It’s possible, I suppose,” Janna said dubiously. Did Gytha have the courage or the guile to carry out such a dreadful mission? It seemed unlikely. It seemed even more unlikely that she was involved in any of the incidents that had gone before. While she would have had the time and the opportunity to carry them out, she had no reason and nothing to gain from it.
“Of course,” Bertha continued, “the lord himself has good reason to want young Hamo out of his way. The boy would have followed him willingly; he would not have had to use force.”
“Mayhap he and Gytha concocted this plan together?” Edwin sounded doubtful.
“No!” Janna’s cry of denial was instinctive. Bertha put a finger to her lips. “I hope you are wrong,” Janna said again, more quietly. “But I shall keep a close watch on the lord once he returns, although I shall need to stay in hiding.” She turned to Bertha. “Can you watch Gytha? Someone needs to bring food to Hamo, if he still lives. If Gytha knows where he is, sooner or later she’ll lead you to him.”
Bertha nodded, looking self-important and proud.
“I should go,” Janna said, and scrambled to her feet. Bertha stood up to accompany her.
Edwin gave Janna an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry you have to face this alone,” he said. “But I’ll come out of hiding just as soon as those travelers leave the manor, I promise you.”
“And then?” Janna queried. “Will you come on to Winchestre with me?”
Edwin and Bertha exchanged glances. She spoke up for both of them. “It is our wish to be wed, if my lord Hugh permits it,” she said. “I have asked my father to take Edwin on as an apprentice and he has already agreed. Edwin’s life lies here now, with me.”
Janna nodded in understanding. “Good luck to you then,” she said, “and I wish you both great happiness.” She gave Edwin a farewell salute, and followed Bertha out through the cottage, taking time to give her younger sister an awkward wave as she passed by.
Her first need was to find shelter. Heaving a sigh of resignation, Janna walked to the forest, all the while keeping a lookout for telltale flickers of light from the searchers, and listening anxiously for sounds of the hunt. She’d sworn never to pass another night up a tree again, and so she looked around for somewhere else she might shelter—and thought of the shed where she and Edwin had hidden once before. She hurried to it, sure that she’d be safe there for the night, for it must already have been searched by others as well as by herself. She debated gathering leaves and straw to make a softer bed, but decided against it. Even if she cleaned out the shed in the morning, she was bound to leave signs of occupation behind, signs that could be misinterpreted. Instead, she cleared the sheep’s dried dung from a small patch of hard flinty ground, and lay down.
She was exhausted, but her thoughts churned endlessly, keeping her fretful and awake. Hamo. He must be feeling so frightened, and so alone. And Hugh! Her suspicions seemed impossible when she recalled his kindness, his gentle touch as he comforted her after her mother’s death. His kiss…Her body ached and burned with memories of Hugh.
At some time during the night she heard the sound of voices and leaped up, trying to judge whether she was safe, whether she had time to run. She opened the door a crack and peered out across the water meadows. The weary villeins were returning home, their torches burned as low as their spirits, judging by the snatches of conversation that came her way through the still night air. Hamo was not found then. The hunt would start again at dawn. She dozed, woke up, and dozed again until a gradual lightening to the east told her that the sun would soon rise, and the searchers with it.
She scrambled to her feet and rolled her shoulders to ease their stiffness, then rubbed her arms to generate a little warmth. She was cold and hungry. She could almost smell the fresh bread baking in the kitchen, the rich scent of pig roasting on a spit, and was tempted to sneak back to the manor and ask Mistress Tova for something to break her fast. Instead, she slipped into the forest to find something to eat. Some mushrooms, hastily collected and eaten raw, helped ease the hollow emptiness in her stomach, while a few early raspberries added a touch of sweetness. The golden aura of the sun peeping above the horizon spoke of a fine day. Her spirits rose with the hope that Hamo was still alive and that he’d soon be found.
Hugh—or Gytha? Janna was certain the answer lay with the one who stood to gain the most from Hamo’s death. She resolved to stay hidden until Hugh’s return, after which she would become his
shadow. If Hamo was still alive, if Hugh was his captor, the lord’s first call would be to check on the boy, and when he did so, she would be there to witness it. She took some comfort from the thought that if she was wrong, Bertha would be watching Gytha, ready to pounce if necessary.
Janna walked back into the forest, needing to find shelter from Serlo’s watchful eye. She chose an old beech tree close to the path where she’d be able to watch everyone coming and going, and climbed high into its dense, leafy crown.
Serlo was the first to come out of the manor, leading a group of villeins. Judging by their yawns and dragging steps, they had been woken early and given little time to fill their bellies before commencing their search. Janna kept a careful eye on them as they crossed the river and came on into the forest. She froze into stillness as they passed close to her hiding place, hardly daring even to blink in case someone caught a flicker of movement. As they disappeared along the path, she wondered if they were searching for her as well as Hamo. If Serlo had bothered to send some bread and ale to the barn, or even taken the victuals to her himself, he would know by now that she was gone. Everyone would have been warned to keep a lookout for her, and for Edwin.
The sun rose higher, warming the chill from the air and brightening the sky with its rosy rays. Janna’s eyes felt heavy with sleep after her wakeful night. She lay along the length of a branch to rest, and felt her eyes close in the drowsy summer heat. A swarm of gnats found her. She flapped an irritable hand at them but they continued to bite and tease her until she found herself thoroughly wide awake again. She listened for sounds of the search but heard only the discordant clanging of the bell. After tolling for a time, it lapsed into silence.
To keep herself awake, she cast her mind back to what Eadgyth had told her about beeches. The tree had many healing properties, but of more importance to Janna right now was something else Eadgyth had said. “The beech protects lost travelers. The old ones especially revered it because they believed the ancient gods wrote upon its bark and so the tree received their knowledge and wisdom. Even today, if you write a wish on a beech tree, it will be granted.” After a moment’s reflection, Janna pulled out her knife and laboriously began to inscribe her father’s name on the smooth gray bark: J O H N. “Please let me find him,” she whispered, as she cut into the hard wood.
The long morning wore on, and Janna was almost asleep again when the thudding of a horse’s hooves jerked her upright. Hugh! She peered through the leaves to make sure, and recognized the green cloak coming toward her. He was riding the reddish brown steed he’d been on before, and he was moving fast. There was no time to lose if she wanted to keep him in sight. She slithered down through the lofty branches, grabbing hasty handholds along the way, until she missed her footing and fell. She crashed down into thick leaf litter below the beech, almost in the path of the speeding horse. Startled by her sudden appearance, it reared and whinnied in fright. Its hooves lashed out and pounded the air. Hugh clung tight to the reins. As he fought to stay in the saddle, he began to gentle the horse into stillness with his voice.
“Whoa there, easy up. Easy now.” He kept on talking until at last his mount stood calm. Then he looked at Janna, and frowned with displeasure. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?” he asked. “You could have killed us both!”
“I-I’m sorry, sire.” Janna jumped up and bent her knees in a hasty curtsy, tried to correct it to a bob, remembered that Hugh knew she wasn’t a boy, got her feet tangled up, and fell over. Scarlet faced, she scrambled up again, cursing her clumsiness and the ill-luck that had precipitated her descent right into his path. She had planned to follow behind Hugh without being seen; she hadn’t expected to confront him like this.
“Why were you hiding up a tree?”
From the determined set of Hugh’s jaw, Janna knew he would not leave without an explanation. She struggled to find something convincing to tell him, but nothing came into her mind. Eventually, she decided to stick to a version of the truth.
“I’m hiding from Master Serlo,” she explained.
Hugh was still gentling and patting his horse. As the bell tolled out once more, his frown deepened. “There is no sign of Hamo, then?”
“No, sire.” Janna shook her head, almost convinced that Hugh’s concern sounded genuine. “The search has gone on through most of the night, but he has still not been found.”
Hugh’s lips tightened. There was a look of real distress in his eyes. “I must find Serlo,” he told Janna. “But before I do, tell me why you are hiding from him.”
“Master Serlo believes that Edwin and I stole some goods from a storage chest in the undercroft, but I swear to you, sire, that we did not.”
“If Master Serlo accuses you of theft, I am sure it is for a good reason. No!” Hugh held up a hand to stay Janna’s outraged retort. “I hold you in good faith, Johanna, and so I am sure he is mistaken in his belief. But what about Edwin? Your brother?” There was a wealth of sarcasm in the word.
Janna sighed. His question was fair, but she was unsure how to answer. “I have spoken to Edwin and I swear he knows nothing of it either.” Janna hesitated, but decided to continue with the truth, partly because Hugh already knew it. “He has gone into hiding, sire, because he recognized the travelers who are staying at the manor. They come from his lord’s own manor near Tantone, and Edwin was afraid they would return him there if he was seen. He’s trying to stay hidden for a year and a day so that his lord can no longer lay claim to him.”
“That’s what I suspected.” Hugh dismounted then, but kept tight hold of the horse’s reins. “And is there any good reason why I should not hand Edwin over to Master Siward so that his lord can make his own decision about him?”
“His lord is a violent man, sire. Cruel and vengeful. Edwin told me he was beaten regularly, and I have seen proof of it in the scars on his back—and on his face. The other villeins were also beaten. Even the lord’s own family were victims of his rage.”
Hugh nodded thoughtfully. “That accords with what Master Siward hinted at, but you haven’t told me everything, Johanna. Or has Edwin not disclosed that when he ran away, he took his lord’s favorite steed with him?”
“Yes, Edwin told me what he was accused of, but no, sire, he did not take the steed. He denied knowing anything about its theft, and I believe him. But he knew no-one else would, and so he ran away.” Janna hesitated. “Certes, there was no sign of any horse when I encountered him in the forest, sire.”
“Hmph.” Hugh was silent for a few moments. “And what is Edwin to you, that you defend him so vigorously, Johanna?” There was a slight edge to his voice.
Janna smiled, rather flattered by Hugh’s interest. Should she tell him he had nothing to fear, that Edwin was already in love with Bertha? A quick check with the reality of her situation wiped the smile from her face. She must never forget, for one moment, the reason behind her interest in Hugh. “Edwin was hiding in the forest, just as I was, sire.” Better not mention her stolen purse. “We decided it would be safer for both of us if we traveled together, and that’s why we made up the story about being part-Welsh and everything.” She faced Hugh, willing him to believe her, to believe them both.
“You seem to tell lies so readily, Johanna, that I wonder how far I can trust you now?” Hugh’s eyes rested on her with a steady gaze. She blushed under his scrutiny.
Whatever Hugh found on his inspection seemed to satisfy some of his doubts, however. “Very well,” he said curtly. “I shall speak to Serlo. I shall make sure he knows you are innocent and must be left free. But for all your faith in Edwin, I wish to speak to him myself. And trust me, I will find out the truth.” He hoisted himself back into the saddle. “Bring him to me tonight, Johanna, in secret, if you wish. There is no need for the travelers to see him. But you must make him come or I shall believe the worst of him and then not only the travelers but the whole shire will be looking for him. Tell him that he will be caught, he will be tried in my manorial court and, if
necessary, I shall have him hanged.”
Janna gulped, knowing from Hugh’s tone that he meant every word of his threat. “There’s something else you should know, sire,” she said, in a small voice.
“What?”
“Master Serlo locked me up in a barn, but I…I managed to escape.”
“And how did you manage that?” In spite of Hugh’s grave expression, Janna thought she detected the hint of a reluctant smile quirking his mouth.
“I cut through the thatch at the top of a wall. There’s a bit of a hole there now.”
Hugh clicked his tongue in disapproval. “I’ve underestimated you in the past, Johanna,” he said, “but believe me, I won’t make the same mistake again. And I’ll make sure that Serlo doesn’t either.” He dug his heels into the horse’s flank and it took off across the water meadows. Janna watched the horse and its rider ford the river and fly on toward the manor house. She had no chance of keeping up with Hugh, but for all that, she must follow after him in case he led her to Hamo. The idea that he might have had a hand in his cousin’s disappearance disgusted and repelled her. She so desperately wanted to trust him, yet she could not get past the thought that, with Hamo out of the way, Hugh would be Dame Alice’s sole heir. He would be free to marry anyone then—including the luscious Gytha!
Janna grimaced at the thought. Her mood, as she followed him across the water meadows, was not improved by the memory of Hugh’s last command. How was she going to persuade Edwin to come out of hiding and face him? He would think she had betrayed him, and in truth, Janna felt as though she had, although Hugh had given her no choice in the matter. With a heavy heart, she wondered what she could say that might make Edwin trust Hugh, and change his mind about staying hidden.
Trust Hugh? She almost laughed at the bitter irony of it. It seemed disaster awaited them, whichever way she looked.
She was nearing the manor house when she heard the sound of hoofbeats. She craned over her shoulder to see who was coming, and her heart began a painful thumping when she recognized Godric. She had not known that he could ride. She waited, hardly daring to hope. He noticed her as he rode closer, and his face set cold and hard. A wave of desolation washed over Janna—she was still not forgiven.
Stolen Child: The Janna Chronicles 2 Page 18