“The new lay sister is talking in chapter.” The familiar whine came from behind them. The abbess pretended she hadn’t heard, but her frown encompassed Janna and Agnes as well as Sister Martha.
As soon as chapter was over, Sister Anne beckoned Janna to her side. Janna felt a real sense of loss as she watched Agnes move away to stand with the other lay sisters, who were waiting to be told their orders for the day by Sister Grace. She’d never felt so close to anyone before. She realized how much she’d miss Agnes’s company as the lay sister waggled her fingers behind her back in a gesture of farewell. It made her all the more determined to speak out on Agnes’s behalf.
“Go and fetch your belongings from the lay sisters’ dorter,” Sister Anne instructed. “I’ll wait for you here and take you to the infirmary.”
“Yes, Sister. And thank you.” Janna looked at the elderly nun. “I won’t let you down, I promise.”
“I know that.” Sister Anne’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve been asking questions about you, and about your mother. Some of the villagers I spoke to confirmed her skill, and said that they believe you’ve inherited her gift. While we won’t have cause to use all of your mother’s remedies here, I believe there is much we can teach each other.”
Janna winced as she understood the nun’s meaning, but she couldn’t help feeling flattered when the nun continued, “But even before I made my enquiries, I had my eye on you. And this injury has made me even more aware that I must begin training others to take my place in the infirmary.”
“Do you need more than one pair of hands to help you, Sister? For I know Sister Agnes is anxious to learn about herbs and their healing properties; I’ve already taught her much of what I know.”
Sister Anne nodded thoughtfully. “I will bear that in mind, but I’ve already been granted a boon in gaining your help and I can’t ask for any more at present. Let’s just see how we get on for the moment, shall we?”
Satisfied she’d done her best to honor her promise to Agnes, and eager to get started, Janna turned and began to run toward the lay sisters’ dorter. Her heavy habit constricted her movements. Recollecting where she was, she slowed at once to a rapid, but decorous, walk. Her heart sang with excitement. She was about to learn to live as she believed her mother had once lived, in a community of nuns. She would have the opportunity to question them all, just in case Eadgyth had spoken to any of them about her past. Best of all, at last she might have the chance to learn to read and to write. The secrets of her father’s letter to her mother were finally within her grasp.
*
The first of Janna’s disappointments came after dinner in the refectory. She’d washed her hands in one of the basins in the lavatorium, then filed in along with the nuns, half excited, half fearful as she contemplated the tasks that lay ahead. She’d been placed beside the door, and understood she was among the lowest of the low as she looked to the high table at the furthest end of the room where the abbess was seated under a great cross, flanked by several obedientiaries.
She was about to start eating when the abbess’s voice stayed her hand. Janna bowed her head and waited impatiently for grace to be said. She helped herself from a platter of vegetables and began to eat, picking up the food from her trencher of bread with her fingers. Almost at once she was interrupted by a novice on her right, who waved a spoon at her. As Janna hastily picked up her spoon, the novice on her left tapped her arm to gain her attention and began to weave her hand through the air. Unsure what she was meant to do, she frowned in bewilderment. The novice repeated the action. Janna shrugged. Finally, with a smothered “Tsk” of impatience, the novice reached across and grabbed hold of a platter of mackerel. She placed it in front of her, and swam her hand through the air once more, then pointed at the fish. Janna nodded. It was all very confusing.
The novice helped herself to some fish and Janna took some too. It was delicious, but she hardly had time to take more than a few mouthfuls before a young oblate sitting opposite began shaking her hand, holding two fingers against her thumb. At a loss, Janna threw up her hands. The oblate reached across the table and took hold of a heavy salt cellar. Janna watched how sparingly she helped herself to the precious substance. As soon as she set it down, Janna took some for herself, keen to try what had always been too costly for her mother to afford. She dipped a portion of fish into the white crystals and cautiously tasted it, savoring the extra piquancy and flavor. Bemused, she watched the silent pantomime continue around her as the nuns signed their needs to each other, and passed dishes accordingly. She was beginning to understand how seriously the community took the Rule of Silence, and how much she would miss Agnes’s irreverent whispering.
Worse was to come. One of the nuns walked up to the lectern. Janna had the impression that she came reluctantly, for her footsteps slowed as she came closer. Her face was downcast so that she looked only at her feet and not where she was going. Consequently, she tripped and almost fell as she encountered the steps that led up to the lectern. Instinctively, she clutched the book she carried closer to her chest, much as a mother might hold a child after a safe rescue. She climbed the stairs and carefully opened the book.
“H-h-h-hence…Hence th-the L-Lord s-says…in the …the G-Gospel, ‘Who…whoever l-listens …’”
Janna looked down at the trencher of bread in front of her, no longer able to watch. She couldn’t bear to hear the tortured sounds, and tried to close her ears to them, and her mind to the nun’s humiliation. She’d read the shame and desperation in the nun’s eyes as her mouth strained to utter whole words and managed only the smallest part of them. She remembered that this was Sister Ursel, owner of the mouse called Chester. She wondered if the mouse was keeping company with the nun up at the lectern, and risked a glance.
“‘I…will l-liken him to a w-w-wise m-m—’”
Janna stuffed a piece of fish into her mouth and chewed vigorously, trying to take her mind off what was happening. The other nuns seemed unconcerned, obviously quite used to this appalling travesty of speech. They waggled or shook their fingers, stroked their wrists and noses, or their stomach, squeezed their ear lobes and knocked their index fingers together. Janna watched, and tried to make sense of it all.
The meal, and the reading, progressed. Janna couldn’t wait to leave the refectory, and restrained herself with impatience while the abbess recited a last prayer before they were all free to go. She went at once to the infirmary, and found Sister Anne awaiting her there. The nun had already introduced her to the patients, one with severe toothache and another with a stomach ache, plus several ancient nuns who were now permanent residents in the infirmary, being too crippled or infirm to manage the stairs to the dorter or attend services in the church through the day and night.
“Here’s a soothing balm,” the infirmarian told Janna. “I’d like you to give Sister Angelica’s back a good rub, for it troubles her greatly.”
Janna looked at the greasy substance. She took a deep breath, knowing she must speak the truth for the infirmarian would find out soon enough. “I—my task was to make up the salves and decoctions. It was my mother who always ministered to the sick.” Try as she would, Janna could not keep resentment from souring her voice. She had begged Eadgyth to give her more responsibility, but her mother had always refused, saying that there would be time enough for that later. But later had never come, and Janna was well aware of the vast gap in her experience that would have stood her in such good stead now.
“Did your mother teach you about the humors of the body, how they comprise blood, phlegm, red and black bile? Did she tell you what to do if the humors are not in balance?” Sister Anne queried.
“No, she did not,” Janna admitted. She’d believed her mother had known everything, was startled to find that it was not so.
“She did not tell you that the body may be warm and dry, warm and moist, cold and dry or cold and moist?”
Mute with shame, Janna shook her head.
“Did she mention the bo
dy’s relationship to the four elements: earth, air, fire and water?”
“No.” Janna’s confidence had evaporated. She felt extremely stupid.
“The art of healing does not rest only on knowing about herbs and their properties. Our knowledge is based also on medical practice passed down to us by the ancient Greeks, Romans and Persians.”
“Oh.” Janna waited, in distress, for Sister Anne to banish her from the infirmary now that she had learned the full extent of her ignorance.
“I believe that your mother was a skilled healer, and that she practiced the leechcraft of the Saxons,” Sister Anne observed. “It could be that she was aware of the gaps in her knowledge, and feared them, and that was why she took upon herself the responsibilities of her healing practice and did not share them with you, lest you were made to take the blame for her lack of understanding should something go wrong.”
Janna was silent. Sister Anne’s words made sense. They certainly helped to explain Eadgyth’s continued resistance to Janna’s pleas. The last shreds of her resentment toward her mother slipped away.
“I feel sure there is much you can teach me, Johanna, for I know little of leechcraft but you obviously watched your mother carefully and learned from her all that you could.”
“Yes, Sister, I did.” Janna’s hopes began to rise once more.
“Then massage Sister Angelica’s back. I shall watch what you do, and instruct you as you go.” Sister Anne gave a wry smile. “Besides, I have no choice in the matter.” She held up her bandaged hand.
Janna helped the ancient nun disrobe and picked up the pot of ointment, thrilled to be given the opportunity for which she had always longed. She wondered if conversation was allowed during treatment, and decided to risk it. Her quest was too urgent for delay. “May I speak, Sister Anne?”
The nun nodded. “Talking is allowed in the infirmary, although I don’t encourage idle chatter,” she added severely. “What do you wish to know?”
“I am most grateful for your trust in me, Sister Anne.” Janna thought it best to flatter before asking for a favor. “You’ll find me a willing worker and a keen student, for I wish to know everything I may about healing the sick. Everything!”
“I shall do all I can to help you, Johanna.” Sister Anne leaned forward. “A little higher,” she said. “Use your thumbs, and move your hands in circles.”
“My greatest wish is to learn my letters,” Janna continued, following the nun’s instructions as she spoke. “I shall willingly tell you all that I’ve learned from my mother, and help you in every way I can, but in return will you teach me how to read and write?” She held her breath, her hands moving in a slow rotation over the elderly nun’s back.
Sister Anne frowned. “I didn’t realize we were going to bargain over this, Johanna. When I asked for your help I expected a free exchange of information, for the joy of doing the Lord’s work, as well as helping the sick and needy.”
“Yes! Yes, of course!” Janna was horrified her words had been misunderstood. “I beg your pardon, Sister. Of course I will tell you all I know. I-I was just speaking what was in my heart, telling you my dearest wish in the hope that you may help me.”
“I would if I could.” Sister Anne gave a rueful laugh. “But I am not as skilled in letters as I would wish. What I know of medicine and healing was told to me by my predecessor, just as I will now pass on that knowledge to you. Those sisters who can read and write have duties elsewhere to occupy their time. The chantress and Sister Grace are our teachers, but they teach the oblates, postulants and novices, those who have come to the abbey with a dowry. And the greatest part of their instruction is in the forms of the offices and the rules and customs of our house. They also give lessons to those children whose parents wish them to learn their numbers and letters, but the abbey is paid a fee for that instruction, of course.”
Sister Anne’s meaning was plain, and Janna’s high hopes evaporated like dew in the summer sun. “Besides, I have need of you here,” Sister Anne continued. “St Edith’s fair is less than three weeks away, and there is much to prepare before then.”
It was a bitter blow to Janna’s hopes. She knew of nowhere else, other than the abbey, where she might learn to read and write, yet it seemed those skills would be denied her. But there was one more thing that she might learn. “Did you find out anything else about my mother while you were asking questions, Sister Anne?” she asked eagerly.
“No, I did not. I heard how she had come to the abbey asking for help. That was shortly after our beloved abbess died and Sister Hawise was elevated to take her place.” Janna noticed how tart the infirmarian’s voice became at the mention of the abbess. She continued to massage industriously. Beneath her supple fingers, muscles eased and softened, and the old nun gave a murmuring sigh of relief.
“Do you know of anyone in the abbey who might have spoken to my mother or who knows anything of her circumstances?” Janna persisted, unwilling to accept defeat.
“No, I do not.” Sister Anne looked in puzzlement at Janna. “Why do you ask? Is it important?”
“It’s very important! You see, I know nothing about my mother, where she came from or what she did before she came here. She told me nothing about her past, but I…I have reason to believe she may once have been a nun, perhaps even an infirmarian like you?”
“Why did you not question her?”
“I did! She would not answer me, at least not until just before she died. She was going to tell me, she said, who my father is, for I don’t even know that!” Janna’s face flushed hot with shame at the admission. She pressed too hard, and the old nun groaned in protest.
“Be more gentle!” Sister Anne remonstrated. “Old skin is thin and old bones brittle, remember that.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you, Sister Angelica.”
“It’s all right, child. Your touch gives me relief and I am grateful for it.” The sharp, clear tone reminded Janna that there was another witness to her shameful admission. She blushed anew.
Sister Anne stayed silent for a few moments. “I can think of no-one who knew your mother, or who spoke to her when she came here, but that need not stop you asking questions when talking is permitted, Johanna.”
“Thank you, Sister. I’ll do that.” The conversation was over, all opportunities closed. Janna knew a bleak despair as she continued to carefully massage the old nun’s back.
Chapter 6
The days rushed by, crammed with activities. If Janna wasn’t ministering to the sick under the watchful eye of Sister Anne, she was out gathering plants and preparing healing salves and decoctions for sale at the fair. In spite of her disappointment over her failure to learn to read, she was happy to be busy and greatly looking forward to the fair, for she was hoping she might get leave to attend with Sister Anne. People were traveling to Wiltune from all around the country, and the guest houses of the abbey, both for pilgrims and poor travelers as well as for the well-to-do, were already full, as were the stables. Every day there was a hustle and bustle in the courtyard as traders came in to pay their respects to the abbess, and their tolls and fees to her steward.
Whenever she was outside in the cloister or in the garden, Janna could hear the faint sound of hammering from the marketmede as booths and stalls were constructed for merchants to display their wares. Master Siward and his manservant, the travelers who had so frightened her outlaw companion, Edwin, might be there to buy and to sell. Janna hoped, with all her heart, that Edwin had managed to stay hidden from their sight. He would have had help from his sweetheart, Bertha, and probably from Hugh too, for Hugh understood Edwin’s situation and his need to stay safely out of their sight. A sudden thought set Janna’s heart racing. It was quite possible, nay, even probable, that Hugh, and maybe Godric too, would also attend the fair. Now that Hugh’s cheating reeve was dead and his hoard of purloined goods discovered, there would be an abundance of produce from the manor farm to sell. The thought made Janna more determined than ever
to seek leave to attend the fair.
She remembered the attempt on her life and felt a shiver run down her spine. She might feel trapped inside the abbey, but its walls kept her safe. Her spirits revived somewhat as she began to rationalize the aftermath of the attack. After what had happened, surely Dame Alice would be keeping a watchful eye over Robert and his servants, while Robert should understand by now that she was keeping silent about his role in her mother’s death, and therefore was no threat to him. Not yet, Janna amended grimly, conscious of the quest that still lay before her. She began to count back the days on her fingers, and finally gave up. The attack had happened some weeks ago; by now Dame Alice and her husband were probably safely home on their own manor. Their steward might well attend the fair, to buy and sell on their behalf, but it was most unlikely that they themselves would come.
*
The day celebrated in memory of St Edith’s death dawned sunny and clear. Inside the abbey, all had been made clean and sparkling in honor of their patron saint. The church was resplendent, decorated with flowers and produce as thanksgiving for a harvest safely in and as a benediction to St Edith. Half asleep as she was, Janna’s nostrils were overwhelmed with the scent of the flowers, fruit, nuts, herbs and spices heaped at the altar and around St Edith’s shrine in its own side chapel. She took her place at the back of the choir stalls, and peered down the nave, searching for Agnes. She’d hardly had a chance to talk to her friend in the intervening weeks; making up creams and potions for the fair had kept her fully occupied. The only time they could snatch a few words was when Agnes came in for a new supply of ointment. Janna had taken over its preparation, adding lavender and sunturners to Sister Anne’s usual mix in the hope that they might help to ease the tight scars.
Janna hadn’t forgotten her promise to Agnes, but her entreaties to Sister Anne had not met with any success. She determined that, if she was given leave to go to the fair, she would try to ensure that Agnes came too. Meanwhile, she half listened as the Mass continued. Agnes had taught her all she knew, so Janna could follow some of the chants, but she still did not join in, although she loved to listen to the sound of the nuns’ voices and the music they made. She was coming to know them now, and it amused her to watch them sing, for she thought their characters could be read in their faces and in the language of their bodies.
Unholy Murder: The Janna Chronicles 3 Page 8