Unholy Murder: The Janna Chronicles 3

by Felicity Pulman

  Well pleased with her venture into business on the abbey’s behalf, for she’d had to do some fast talking to persuade Sister Anne to allow her to prepare those creams and rinses that had no medicinal purpose, she handed over the coins to the infirmarian.

  “You’ve done well, Johanna,” Sister Anne murmured. “I see your years of experience in the marketplace are paying off!” Janna was especially pleased when the nun added, “Perhaps we shall add more of your special preparations to our stock at next year’s fair.” She turned to another customer, this time an elderly whiskered gentleman who wanted something for a gouty leg and an aching back.

  Janna and Sister Anne were kept busy for some time thereafter, selling medicaments as well as Janna’s preparations for skin and hair, teeth and bad breath, tired limbs and aching feet. As the coins clinked in, Janna’s spirits rose. Although she didn’t like the abbess, she was happy to think she was contributing something useful toward her new home. It took her another moment or two to recognize the true source of her growing contentment. Dressed as she was, everyone thought she was part of the abbey and treated her with respect. Respect was not something Janna was used to and she relished it, even though she recognized that nothing had changed: inside, she was just the same as she’d always been. But her smile was brighter, her face more cheerful as she undertook to be the best representative the abbey had ever had.

  “You’ve worked hard, Johanna,” Sister Anne told her, after a lingering customer had been served and there was no-one new in sight. She took a coin from the heavy purse, and held it out. “Would you like to buy yourself a pie and some ale for your dinner, and enjoy the fair for a little while?”

  “Thank you, Sister!” Janna took the coin with alacrity. “Shall I buy you a pie too?”

  “No.” The nun smiled at her. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll eat my dinner later.”

  Afraid that the infirmarian might change her mind if she tarried, Janna hurried away. She avoided the fenced enclosure where traders bid for livestock, keeping instead to the rows of booths and stalls where myriad goods were on display: cheeses, wine, honey, fruit and vegetables were all set out in glowing fragrant piles. Janna’s stomach rumbled. She sauntered onward, stopping to admire colored gems and baubles, knives and needles, swords and daggers, fancy leather gloves and shoes with pointed toes, and bolts of fine wool and linen cloth in every hue: light blue, red, yellow, black, grey and green. Only the nobility would be able to afford such luxury; the villeins had to make do with plain homespun.

  Janna imagined herself wearing a fine green gown, with embroidered edges and fashionably wide sleeves, attending a ball at the castle at Sarisberie. She would be the most beautiful of all the ladies there, and all the nobility would line up to dance with her. Especially Hugh! A mirror of polished metal caught her eye. She picked it up, and promptly burst out laughing. Not a beautiful lady in a green gown but a lay sister! She was about to put it down when curiosity got the better of her, and she studied herself more closely. The veil and wimple were supposed to cover her hair, but some locks always managed to escape their confines. But she knew its color. It was her eyes that interested her, and she stared at them. “You have your father’s eyes,” the midwife had once told her, although that was a guess. Janna wondered if she’d be able to find him through recognizing her own dark brown eyes. She searched for signs of her mother in her face, but could find only a fleeting resemblance when she frowned. Feeling slightly disappointed, she put down the mirror and walked on.

  Precious silks from across the water, decorative objects chased in costly gold and silver, perfumes and assorted spices ensured that she made slow progress. Her habit gave her protection, she found. She could stop, sniff and finger articles for sale, and no-one harassed her or tried to make her buy anything. A tray of bright ribbons caught her eye and she stopped to choose one for Agnes. Janna was sure such a pretty thing would give her friend pleasure. She could tie it under her habit, and no-one would ever know it was there. But which to choose? Bright pink, or sky blue? The green of trees or the scarlet of poppies? She picked up first one and then another; each seemed more beautiful and more exciting than the last. A splash of golden yellow caught her eye and she dropped the handful of ribbons she’d collected and picked it up instead. The ribbon lay like sunshine in her hand.

  “I’ll take this one,” Janna told the chapman, and he held out his hand for her coin. She waited for some wooden tokens in exchange, but none came. She realized then that she’d not asked about the price, and she was the loser for it. “This comes very dear,” she said. The chapman shrugged, and turned to another customer. Janna pulled a wry face, and looped the ribbon around her wrist under the sleeve of her habit, tying it with a clumsy knot. There was no money left now for a pie, but she was well-pleased with her purchase and hoped it would give Agnes pleasure and comfort, in some part, for missing the fair. Realizing that her purchase probably didn’t befit her apparent calling, Janna continued on her way.

  “Hssst.” A sibilant whisper attracted her attention, as did the grimy hand that plucked at her habit. “I have something that might interest you, Reverend Sister.” Not troubling to correct his error in naming her, Janna looked down as a linen sheath was unrolled to reveal a grubby object. She stared at it, and then at the pedlar displaying his treasure so proudly.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “’Tis a fingerbone from St John the Baptist himself.” Wearing a devout expression, he crossed himself. “If you only owned such a precious relic, Reverend Sister, you’d be pardoned from all your sins and look forward to life everlasting with our Savior in Heaven.” He crossed himself again.

  Awed and impressed, Janna peered more closely at the small bone. She wished she had coin enough to offer for such a wonderful relic, and wondered where it had come from and how the pedlar had been so fortunate as to come by it. She noticed then that he was becoming somewhat agitated, and realized why as she saw one of the steward’s guards striding toward them, made distinctive by the abbey’s badge worn on his breast. Before she could blink, the linen sheath was deftly rolled, hiding the finger bone from view. Whistling innocently, the pedlar wandered off into the crowd, leaving Janna feeling rather foolish. But she couldn’t help admiring the rogue’s brazen audacity. She was sure he’d have many more such “relics” secreted about his person. She wouldn’t be the only innocent fairgoer he’d trap with his colorful inventions.

  She walked on. Her stomach rumbled as she smelt the enticing aroma of hot pies. All shops were forced to close during the three-day fair, but most enterprising traders in the town had removed their goods to the fairground for sale. The cookshop, although officially closed, was doing a roaring trade from a nearby stall. Janna hurried past, feeling saliva seep into her mouth as she watched a young man bite into a savory pasty.

  Duty told her she should return to Sister Anne, but the delights of the fair drew her on. She continued her perambulation between the lines of makeshift stalls, listening to the cries of pedlars and stall keepers alike, all shouting their wares with the promise that their own goods were far superior to anything else on display.

  Suddenly she caught sight of a familiar face. Her heart lurched sideways. Hugh! He was pushing through the crowd, followed closely by Godric. Before she could hail them, a young woman rushed up to Hugh, seeming delighted to see him. Just as Hugh was delighted to see her, Janna noticed, as he kissed the woman’s hand, and held on to it for a few moments afterward. She, however, seemed to have no courtly inhibitions. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and planted a hearty kiss on his cheek, holding on to him as she leaned back to survey him. They laughed together, and the woman said something. At once Hugh’s expression changed, became serious. He launched into speech, and the young woman listened, shaking her head and trying to protest, but he would not be interrupted. Arms akimbo, and looking indignant, he finished what he had to say. The girl smiled up into his face and said something, apparently trying to coax him into go
od humor. In this she seemed to succeed, for Hugh eventually gave her a grudging smile in return, and then made a courtly bow in farewell.

  The young woman moved into the crowd and Janna’s envious gaze followed after her. She was extremely attractive, with a rosy complexion and sparkling eyes. Her long dark hair was bound in a gauzy veil and secured with a silken band. She wore a dark blue kirtle embroidered with flowers, her ensemble marking her as a cut above the commonplace. Who was she and, more importantly, what was she to Hugh?

  Chapter 7

  Anxious to escape Hugh’s notice after what she’d witnessed, Janna turned and hurried off, at the same time reassuring herself that her habit would render her invisible to both Hugh and Godric. She could not face the lord now, not dressed as she was, and not so soon after his encounter with that beautiful, bright young woman who so obviously cared for him and knew him well enough to have earned both his respect and his affection.

  Children ran about, laughing, shouting, playing tag and pushing each other, enjoying every moment of their freedom from toil. Janna saw a trainer with his bear in the distance, and felt a pang of pity for the huge creature that stood upon its hind legs and was being goaded to dance. She heard a sudden roar from a crowd nearby and, anxious for distraction, followed the sound to investigate its cause. She caught a glimpse of bloodied feathers and a torn coxcomb, and realized she was looking into a cockfighting pit. Half attracted, half repelled, she pushed through the crush of bodies to get closer, for she’d never watched a cockfight before, and was interested to see what it was all about.

  A barrier of woven wattle surrounded the pit to prevent the cocks from escaping. The pit was already stained with blood and gore from previous fights. Those who had made wagers pressed closest, their expressions intent. The two birds leaped at each other with talons outstretched, engaging in deadly combat amid a welter of blood and flying feathers. As they watched the two birds attack each other, raking downward with their sharpened spurs, the crowd shouted encouragement or groaned in despair. The larger cock seemed to be the favorite, but its smaller opponent seized the advantage when it jumped high and slashed out. Blood spurted, and the larger bird fell to the ground, mortally wounded.

  The crowd gave a collective groan – the favorite had let them down. The owners jumped into the pit to pick up their birds, while a few lucky winners jostled through the crowd to get to a man holding a satchel full of coins and wooden tokens. There would be money to put ale in their mugs this night, and Janna wished them good fortune with their winnings. But for herself, she’d seen enough.

  Several of the spectators had wicker cages by their sides containing colorful cocks with glossy feathers. These birds were no longer proud and crowing for their beaks were bound, and their feet too. They must suspect, by now, what fate awaited them. As Janna began to push through the crowd, two new fighters were placed in the pit, ready to be released when the word was given. The men who were clustered around surveyed them carefully, and swapped judgments with their neighbors, pulling coins out of their purses, ready to make a new wager. Janna wondered how many of them could afford to lose on what was, at best, a contest based on guesswork and chance. To win or lose on the throw of the dice, or the prowess of two fighting cocks—she shook her head, marveling at the crazy optimism that urged men to such madness.

  One such was surveying the bloody pit with an intent expression. He turned his head as she passed him by, and she was struck by the wild exhilaration in his dark eyes, a sort of crazed desperation that told her he would continue to wager until his last coin was spent, that he would wager even his soul if he could. She wondered if that point had already been reached, but was distracted by a young woman hurrying toward her. Hugh’s beautiful friend. Sick at heart, Janna turned away.

  The noise of the fair increased as her steps took her closer to the enclosure where all manner of livestock were for sale. Geese gobbled and hissed, horses neighed and oxen bellowed, a cacophony that was matched by the roar of human voices as prices were argued and agreed upon. Seeking somewhere quieter, Janna came upon the juggler once more. He was now throwing knives into the air and catching them, to the hopeful gasps of the onlookers who waited for him to miss and blood to flow. Among the crowd were several shifty-eyed beggars, as well as a woman with bold eyes and a seductive stance. Her lips and cheeks were scarlet patches on her white, powdered face. She gazed upon the scene with a haughty stare, but Janna was sure she was fully aware of the hungry glance of every man who passed by. Not everyone was about an honest trade this day, but Janna had no doubt these other enterprises would prove at least as profitable if not more so, provided the miscreants weren’t apprehended.

  A man stepped from the crowd into her path, blocking her way. Instinctively Janna flinched, but then relaxed when she saw who it was: Master Will, the bailiff. Curious, she waited for an explanation.

  “I beg your pardon if I startled you, Sister,” he said. He looked anxious, rather nervous, Janna thought. She brushed away his apology with a quick gesture and waited, intrigued, to hear why he had stopped her. “I-I wish to enquire after Sister Agnes,” he said awkwardly. “I know, for she has told me, that you two have become close friends—not that such a thing is allowed in the abbey, of course,” he added hurriedly.

  “Yes, we are friends.” Janna hid a grin, hearing the echo of Agnes’s voice in his disclaimer, and seeking to reassure him.

  Master Will passed a hand over his mouth, as if unsure whether or not it was safe to speak further. Finally he said, “Think you that Agnes is happy where she is, at the abbey?”

  “She has told me she is content to be there.” Janna had a suspicion she knew where this strange conversation was heading.

  “I know she has lived there since she was a child. She knows no other life, and yet—” Master Will looked down at the ground. “There are other ways to live,” he mumbled. “She could find a good husband, someone who would be kind to her, who would give her children of her own to love.”

  “But…” Janna had no doubt now that the bailiff had already cast himself in the role of “good husband.” Nevertheless, there were several seemingly insurmountable hurdles he must face if such a thing was to come to pass.

  “She has not taken the vow that binds her to stay there,” the bailiff interrupted. “I know, because she told me, that she was given to the abbey after she was badly burned as a child. She had no choice in the matter! While I understand she has taken some vows of obedience and so forth, she has not yet taken the final vow that will dedicate her life to God.” He raised his eyes to face Janna, looking defiant. “I’ve known her since she was a child, and I realize now that I love her,” he said. “I know she feels ugly in the sight of God, but when I look at her, I see only her kindness, her sense of humor, and her courage.”

  “As do I,” said Janna, feeling greatly encouraged by his words.

  “Then will you speak for me?” In his urgency, Will caught Janna by her arm.

  “And say what?” Conscious of the habit she wore, Janna gently disengaged herself.

  “That I love her, and would take her for my wife. But that if her love of God is greater, then I shall try to understand her vocation, and will pledge not to annoy her with my continuing attention.”

  “You must know she is afraid of the world outside the abbey,” Janna warned.

  “Because of her scars, she fears the pity and scorn of others.”

  “I will shield her, I will protect her.”

  “It is Agnes you have to convince, not me.”

  “But how can I do that? I saw how she ran off today rather than face the fair-goers. How can I reach her if she takes refuge in the abbey and will not come out?”

  The bailiff’s words sank Janna’s spirits even lower as she realized the full extent of the harm she had done.

  “Say you’ll speak for me,” Master Will begged. “Reassure Agnes that my intentions toward her are honorable, and that I care deeply for her. Please, Sister, will you do that f
or me?”

  “I will. But you must be patient. Having spent so many years under the influence of the nuns, Agnes needs to become used to the idea of living outside the abbey. She is innocent of the ways of the world—and of men.”

  “Could she think of me as a husband?” the bailiff asked eagerly. “Has she said aught of her feelings for me?”

  Janna hesitated. She remembered the joy on Agnes’s face at the mention of Will’s name. She remembered too, her first conversation with Agnes and the lay sister’s admission that she would like to wed and bear children but that no-one would have her, scarred as she was. Would the bailiff’s love be enough to offset her fear? Janna had no way of knowing. “She called you kind, and good,” she said slowly. “I saw you laughing together during harvest, and I know she was grateful for your care of her, and for giving her an excuse to escape the abbey walls for the freedom of the fields.”

  The bailiff smiled his relief. “That seems like a good start!”

  “I will do what I can for you,” Janna said, and his smile grew wider. He left her then, with a promise to look out for her on the morrow. Janna continued to wander along between the lines of makeshift stalls, enjoying the sight of so many luxuries and the opportunity to look at them all.

  Lost in thought, she didn’t notice Hugh until he was almost upon her. She was about to bob a curtsy when she remembered how she was dressed. Instead, she drew aside to let him pass, turning her face from Godric, who followed him.

  Hugh gave her an impersonal nod and continued through the crowd until his companion stalled him with a delighted cry: “Janna!”

  Hugh came to an abrupt stop. “Johanna?” His wondering gaze encompassed her black habit before moving up to her face and the veil and wimple that covered her hair and neck. “Jesu!” he exclaimed in amazement as he hurried back to her. “You look so different, I didn’t recognize you.”