Unholy Murder: The Janna Chronicles 3

by Felicity Pulman

  “Another healer come to visit,” Hugh said lightly. “I am indeed honored to receive so much attention!”

  “Agnes is my friend,” Janna said, proud to make the claim, for in truth her life had been somewhat short of friends until now.

  “Sister Johanna is teaching me about herbs and their healing properties,” Agnes said quietly. She ventured no closer to Hugh, but she didn’t run away either.

  “You couldn’t have a better teacher,” Hugh said. “She and her mother were known at my aunt’s manor and beyond, and their skills were highly valued by all who came under their care.”

  Agnes shot a surprised glance at Janna, then bobbed a quick curtsy to Hugh. “I must go,” she said.

  Janna put out a hand to stop her friend’s departure. “My lord, would you mind if I showed Agnes your wound? While I hope she won’t have any more dagger wounds to tend here in the abbey, there might still be accidents with scythes, or knives, or pitchforks.”

  Hugh smiled. “Come and have a look,” he invited. “I won’t bite—so long as you promise not to hurt me!”

  A reluctant grin twitched the corner of Agnes’s mouth. Her eyes widened as she noted the hairy chest bared in front of her, but then she peered closely at the wound while Janna showed her first how to wash it clean and then how to medicate it. Janna proffered the last of the paste that she’d used to spread on the wound. As she detailed what was in it, Agnes took a good sniff of the aromatic salve.

  “I wish you’d come back to my manor, Johanna,” Hugh said wistfully. “In truth, you have far more skill than Mistress Tova and her daughter.”

  Gytha and her mother would not like to hear such a judgment from Hugh, Janna thought. “It’s as well that I’m here to care for you now, my lord,” she said, and proceeded to bind his wound under the watchful gaze of Agnes.

  She was just finishing when the sound of voices alerted her to the fact that they would shortly have company. “I must see to the other patients now, my lord,” she said quickly, and left the cubicle, drawing Agnes after her.

  “He’s nice! And you’re right, Janna. He’s very handsome.” Agnes quickly averted her face as she passed Godric and Gytha. Janna stopped to greet them, hoping for an opportunity to talk to Godric on his own for once. But Gytha lingered beside him, clutching a laden basket. Her curious glance flicked from Godric to Janna, and back again. With a sigh, Janna excused herself and hurried on after Agnes.

  “The lord Hugh was kind to me,” Agnes continued, as Janna fell into step beside her once more. “I don’t have any experience with men, but he seemed like a real gentleman.”

  “He is a gentleman. He’s a highborn Norman—but landless, alas.” Janna stopped beside Sister Angelica. “Would you like me to rub your back for you today, Sister?” she asked, motioning Agnes to stay with her. It was a good opportunity for her friend to find her way around the infirmary, and learn what would be required of her, Janna reasoned.

  “Yes, indeed I would.” Without being asked, Sister Angelica retreated into her cubicle and unfastened her habit.

  “He also has a lovely, hairy chest,” Agnes said, as she surveyed Sister Angelica’s bare, wrinkly old back.

  “Who?” the old nun demanded, in a scandalized voice.

  Agnes giggled. “Janna’s beau,” she said saucily.

  “He is not!” Janna glared at her.

  “I don’t know about that.” Agnes still sounded amused. “I saw how he looked at you, Janna. He…values you, I think.”

  “Value isn’t love,” Janna said tartly, thinking of Hugh’s laughter when he heard Hamo’s question.

  “It’s a good start,” Agnes said seriously.

  Janna remembered Hugh’s request for a goodnight kiss. Her face began to burn. She didn’t want to think about Hugh as a beau. She didn’t want to think about Hugh at all!

  “Master Will values you too, Agnes.” Janna carefully began to massage the old nun’s back. “He loves you, you know.”

  “Shh!” Agnes put a finger to her lips, then pointed at the nun lying supine on the bed in front of them.

  “I might be old, but I’m not blind and deaf,” the old nun snapped. “And if you think I’m going to tell tales about you, you are wrong. There are enough sisters stirring up trouble as it is, without my adding a whole lot of rumors and lies to the stew.”

  “I beg your pardon, Sister Angelica.” Agnes’s tone was meek, but her eyes danced with amusement as her gaze met Janna’s.

  “Besides,” the old nun continued, “it’s hard living without a man. I should know, for I was once wed.” Her voice was ineffably sad. “My husband died young. In my grief I sought refuge here and took my vows. And lived to regret it, I might say, when I realized what I’d done,” she added, her tone now sharp as a wasp’s sting. “I’d thought life would be peaceful, here in the abbey. I little knew that I would live out my days surrounded by gossiping women, some of whom would do better service to the Lord if they held their tongues and paid more attention to the love and charity they profess but don’t often practice!”

  Janna and Agnes exchanged glances. Agnes was the first to speak. “Why did you not leave the abbey when you realized your mistake?”

  “Because I had taken my vows, child. Not for anything would I break a vow freely given to our Lord Jesus Christ.”

  “Oh.” Agnes bent her head. But Janna had seen the light die in her eyes, and reckoned she knew the cause of it. Her heart felt heavy for her friend. In spite of the bailiff’s high hopes and easy dismissal of any potential problems, she knew that Agnes, too, would honor the vows she had made, even if it was at the expense of her own happiness.

  *

  Once Janna had finished ministering to all the patients in the infirmary, Agnes slipped away and Janna returned to Hugh. She could hear his voice as she approached. He was giving instructions to Godric who, she saw as she entered the cubicle, was nodding seriously in return. Gytha stood beside the bed, dangling her basket, which was now empty. There was a pie set on a small table beside Hugh, and some fruit pastries and honey wafers.

  “You may take these to your kitchen,” she said graciously, when she saw Janna. “These are for my lord, whensoever he requests them.”

  “It’s kind of you to bring them in, Gytha, but truly, I do not need you to bring me any extra food. The good sisters are feeding me very well.” Hugh sounded weary as he broke off speaking to Godric to address her.

  “Nevertheless, my lord, you must keep up your strength, for we all want you recovered and home again just as soon as may be,” the girl answered pertly. “We miss your presence at the manor.” She lowered her lashes and blinked flirtatiously. But her gesture was wasted on Hugh, who had turned to Godric once more. Godric continued to listen attentively, although he’d given Janna a beaming smile as she entered. She stood quietly while Hugh detailed further chores he wanted done.

  Once he’d finished speaking, Janna addressed Godric directly. “Do you go to the fair at all?”

  “Not today.” He shook his head. “Morcar, our new reeve, is proving conscientious and capable enough in selling our goods. It’s better for me to keep watch over the manor while my lord is here.”

  Janna hesitated. She cast a quick glance of appeal at Hugh. “Godric, you know all those who work at my lord’s manor, and also those who are employed at Babestoche Manor by Dame Alice. Whoever is responsible for the attack on my lord may well have fled the fair. Nevertheless—”

  “That’s a good idea,” Hugh cut in swiftly, anticipating Janna’s thoughts.

  “Spend some time looking around, Godric, and then report back to me if you will. I would like to know who is here, all those you recognize, anyone at all.” “I’ll come with you, Godric.” Gytha favored him with another flirtatious glance. Janna hid a smile. It seemed the cook’s daughter couldn’t help herself; any man was grist to her mill. Unless…Janna’s next thought wiped away any trace of humor. Unless Gytha was beginning to realize her efforts were wasted on Hugh, and was
now planning to woo Godric instead?

  *

  Janna was thoughtful as she went about her chores that afternoon. Hugh’s presence at the abbey was a great talking point, although the hum of speculation was mostly conducted in illicit whispers. As someone who was in direct contact with him, and who could provide up-to-date reports as to his welfare as well as an eye-witness account of the attack, she suddenly found she was extremely popular. She, in turn, made the most of the opportunity to question all who approached her to find out if any of them knew aught of her mother.

  In this, she drew a disappointing blank. Most knew her mother’s name because of the Mass that, at Hugh’s instigation, had been said for her soul. Some had heard of Eadgyth’s plight when first she’d come to the abbey, but they had not set eyes on her, nor did they know where she’d come from. Janna hadn’t had a chance to question the abbess, but she talked to Sister Brigid, believing that the porteress might well have spoken at length to her mother when first she’d called at Wiltune to beg for help. Brigid was a great gossip, and prided herself on knowing everything about everyone, but even she knew nothing that might further Janna’s quest.

  Janna found it hard to imagine her proud mother begging anything from anyone, most especially not the haughty, grasping abbess; she must indeed have been desperate. Now that she herself was experiencing life in an abbey, Janna was beginning to understand something of her mother’s past. She was quite sure that Eadgyth must have come from an abbey somewhere, although she was less sure of her mother’s position there. Everything seemed to point to the fact that Eadgyth had taken her vows and perhaps even risen to a position of some prominence as the abbey’s infirmarian. Yet she’d always called herself a wortwyf. She certainly hadn’t the same knowledge as Sister Anne or she would have passed it on to Janna, just as she’d passed on everything else she knew about the healing arts. The only part of the mystery Janna really understood was her mother’s attitude toward the church. Betrayed and deserted by the man she loved, as well as by the nuns with whom she’d previously found a home, growing great with child and forced to beg for bread and shelter, it was small wonder that Eadgyth had turned her back on Christ, and grown so hard, so independent and distrustful, so determined never to be in anyone’s debt ever again. Janna was proud of her mother’s indomitable spirit, and for what she had achieved; she just wished Eadgyth had been more honest and open with her daughter. She touched the purse under her habit wherein the letter was sealed. Her father had a lot to answer for and, by God, she would demand a full accounting when they finally met!

  It was approaching dusk when Godric returned, this time without Gytha, to report on whom he’d seen at the fair. Several names were familiar to Janna: villagers who’d consulted her mother in the past, including the miller and his wife, as well as Aldith the midwife, the priest from Berford, and Fulk the apothecary. She was sorry not to have seen Aldith, but she was happy she’d missed the rest of them.

  The two men discussed them all, but could come up with no reason why any should wish to harm Hugh. But mention of their names troubled Janna anew. “They are some of the villagers who once set fire to my cottage,” she ventured. “If they know I’m alive, any one of them would wish to ensure my silence about what really happened that night. I can’t help but believe I was the intended target and not you, my lord.”

  She looked at Hugh. This time he did not hasten to reassure her that she was wrong. “And I am so sorry that you were injured instead,” she added.

  “If I have saved your life, I am glad of it,” Hugh said. “But if this is really the truth of the matter, you must give me your assurance, Johanna, that you will stay safely inside the abbey until we can establish who was responsible.”

  Janna sighed. “I will,” she agreed reluctantly. “But if possible, can you keep my name out of your enquiries?”

  Hugh nodded. “Godric and I will question the villagers, and see what we can learn. I promise you, we will not rest until we have found out who was behind this cowardly attack, and also the reason for it.”

  Chapter 10

  Janna passed a restless night in the infirmary. Although she was comforted by Hugh’s promise to continue enquiries, and although she was where she’d planned to be, she couldn’t shake off the sense that she was trapped, and with no prospect of release. Several times she rose and flitted quietly between beds to check on the patients. Once, she crept into the cubicle that housed Hugh. She looked down at his sleeping form, and had to fight the urge to touch his cheek, to kiss his lips. After that, she stayed away, but when she finally slept, he was with her in her dreams.

  With the new dawn came the realization that the fair was now over. The bustle in the forecourt suggested that most of the merchants and traders who’d been housed at the abbey would depart just as soon as Mass was over. Janna had enjoyed all the excitement, and was sorry to see them go. It seemed to her as if, stone by stone, the walls were closing in on her once more.

  What further depressed her spirits was the fact that Hugh too would soon depart whereas she could not, at least not until she’d accomplished her ambition to find out more about her mother, as well as learning the skills to enable her to read her father’s letter. But these goals seemed to have slipped forever from her grasp. Yet she could think of no other place to go, for even Winchestre had become an impossible dream now.

  Janna had taken every opportunity to listen to the chatter of merchants and pilgrims alike, for they traveled about the country and spoke to people, and so she knew all that was happening in the tug of war for the crown. She’d learned that the earlier peace talks between King Stephen’s queen and the Empress Matilda’s half-brother, Earl Robert of Gloucestre, had come to naught, and that Bishop Henry of Winchestre, the king’s brother, had traveled to France to ask the French king to mediate in their quarrel.

  Meanwhile England was still in turmoil, with the king rushing from place to place, trying to buy support by promising to give land and castles to the barons while they, ambitious and greedy as ever, spent their time capturing castles from each other, from the empress’s supporters, and even from the king, changing their allegiance whenever it suited their purpose. Under the circumstances, Janna had begun to realize that the chance of finding her father in Winchestre was almost nil. While the king’s cause was in the ascendant, bolstered by the presence of a large army of Flemish mercenaries, a number of disaffected barons had defected to the Empress Matilda, creating a further problem for Janna: If her father was a nobleman, she had no way of telling to whom he owed knight service, or which side his overlord might support.

  And if he was a priest? Janna sighed at the thought of how difficult it would be to find him. All her hopes were pinned on reading the answers in his letter, but how could she persuade Sister Anne to allow her to skip her duties and instead sit with Sister Grace and the chantress’s pupils in the cloister and learn, in charity, something for which they had paid a fee?

  It was with a heavy heart that Janna made her morning visit to Hugh. Soon he would be well enough to leave the abbey and she would miss him, both for his company and as a link with the world outside.

  “Why such a long face, Sister?” he greeted her when she walked into his cubicle.

  “It is because you are healing so fast, my lord.” It was safe to tell the truth for Sister Anne was nowhere in sight. Even so, as soon as she’d spoken, Janna regretted making her feelings so obvious.

  He looked a little puzzled. “Does this mean I may return to my manor?” he ventured.

  “Only when the infirmarian says it is safe for you to make the journey.”

  Hugh was silent for a moment. “If you’re so unhappy here, why not come home with me?” he suggested. “My manor is far enough from your old home that you may hide there in safety.”

  Janna closed her eyes against a sudden flood of emotion. To go home with Hugh would give her more happiness than she’d ever known. But she was afraid of where it might lead, this invitation that was kind
ly meant and that sounded so innocent. Her resolve hardened. She would never put herself in her mother’s position. Never!

  She opened her eyes. “I thank you, sire, but I cannot,” she said steadily.

  “And I am sorry for it. Being here, watching you…” The admiration in his eyes was unmistakable.

  Janna swallowed hard. She was trying to think of some light rejoinder when the heavy curtain of the cubicle was pushed aside. Emma raced in and cast herself, sobbing, into Hugh’s arms.

  “Hugh!” she choked, too distraught to say anything other than his name.

  “Hush, Emma. What is it?” He held her tight, and patted her back in a vain attempt to calm her. Janna debated whether she should run to find some soothing mixture for the young woman, and was just about to leave when she caught Hugh’s imploring expression, which told her he was out of his depth and didn’t know what to do. She pointed her finger toward the entrance, indicating that she should go, but he shook his head in an emphatic “no.” His shoulders lifted in mute appeal. Janna patted her hand in the air, miming that he should keep on gentling the girl, and let her cry her worries into silence. He nodded.

  When Emma had calmed somewhat, he tried again.

  “What grieves you so? Tell me, and I’ll do what I may to help you.”

  Emma began to cry once more, sounding utterly lost, beyond consolation. Hugh waited patiently. Finally she managed to choke out a word, her voice muffled against Hugh’s chest.

  “Anselm? What has happened to him?” Hugh’s voice was sharp with tension. “He is dead.” Emma broke into another storm of weeping. While they waited for her to compose herself sufficiently to tell them how he had died, Janna mused that, no matter how fond Emma was of her brother, this would answer the girl’s difficulties so far as her marriage to the thatcher was concerned. And then she discerned a further possible cause for the girl’s distress. This was confirmed when Emma was finally able to speak.