“My family has brought you nothing but grief.” Hugh took Janna’s hand, his thumb caressing her fingers. “I wish…” He fell silent, but continued to stroke her hand.
Janna wondered what to say. Was Hugh making up to her now that she’d told him about her father? She dismissed the thought as unworthy. There’d been an attraction between them right from the beginning. This show of affection was no more than what had already occurred between them in the past. Nevertheless, she should not encourage it, especially now that he was betrothed. Unaccountably, she felt a rush of concern for Eleanor and paused to examine the cause. It lay in the fact that, even while he was pursuing his intended bride, he was making overtures to her. Janna remembered the first time she’d seen Hugh in Winchestre with Hamo. Even then he’d been eyeing an attractive young woman as she passed him by. Was that how he was with every comely young woman he encountered? If so, Eleanor’s path to happiness might be rocky indeed – while Janna herself might have had a narrow escape!
“I thank you for your concern, my lord.” Janna withdrew her hand from his, and busied herself pouring more ale into their mugs.
“This search for your father,” Hugh continued, looking somewhat hurt by Janna’s action, “would you like me to make some enquiries on your behalf?”
“Would you?” Janna clutched the jug to her chest, excited by the possibilities. “I would appreciate it, my lord. Your…” She was about to say “father-in-law” but thought the reminder too raw in the circumstances. “Perhaps Sire Geoffrey may know of him and where I might find him?” And perhaps Sire Geoffrey might be appalled that a lowly drudge in a tavern was daring to claim kinship with a son of the old king!
“I’ll ask him. I’ll ask around,” Hugh said, apparently not sharing Janna’s qualms. “I’m sure someone will know how to make contact with your father.”
“Thank you.” Janna felt a rush of gratitude and relief. “Thank you so much, my lord.” She became aware of raised voices trying to catch her attention, and raised hands snapping fingers and beckoning for service. “I must attend to the other customers. Please excuse me,” she said hurriedly, and turned away before Hugh could say anything further.
Chapter 9
Janna had prepared a new brew and had rung the bell to summon customers to the tavern. The first sign that there was something wrong came when the patrons began to complain about the taste of the ale. They coughed and choked and spat it out, and emptied their mugs onto the rushes. Alarmed, Janna tried a mouthful, and realized they had good grounds for complaint. The ale tasted foul. Quickly she tasted the brew in the other barrels, but that too was contaminated. When the customers demanded a different brew, there was none to give them. Some had supped the ale in quantity, quaffing a long draft before realizing there was something wrong with it. They reeled outside to be sick, but some didn’t get there in time. The air stank of vomit and Janna was hard put to keep her own stomach in check as she took a bucket of water and a wet rag to the puddles. Sybil also tasted the brew from all the barrels, and ordered that they should all be emptied.
Grumbling loudly on being told there was no other ale for them to sup, the customers streamed out of the tavern in search of comfort elsewhere. Even when Sybil belatedly offered them a cup of free wine to replace the spoiled ale, they stayed only long enough to drink it, not to buy more. The tavern closed early that night. Breathing fire and fury, not least over the inroads made into her stock of wine, Sybil interrogated Janna.
“I brewed it as I always do,” Janna protested, quite unable to shed light on the mystery. “There was nothing different about the malt, or the gruit, I swear it.” She thought for a moment. “Could it be that the water was tainted?”
“No!” Sybil snapped. “Ossie knows to go outside the East Gate to fetch it upriver.”
Janna wasn’t convinced. It was some distance to travel before the water ran clear and sweet enough to make a good brew, and there might be a strong temptation to take water from a canal within the town walls instead, water that might well have been contaminated by run-off from the tanners and dyers to the north. She wouldn’t put it past Ossie to cart water from a nearer source if he thought it looked clean enough to chance it. But she didn’t say anything, for the damage was done now. Nevertheless, she resolved to always taste the water before anything was added to it, and also taste the ale before it was served to the customers.
But Sybil wasn’t finished grumbling yet. “If there’s a complaint made about the ale to the ale taster, you’re for a ducking in the river – or worse,” she warned Janna. “Don’t think I’ll be taking the blame for this, miss.”
“It’s not my fault!”
Hands on hips, Sybil surveyed her. “I’ll be watching you closely in the future.”
Feeling resentful that she wasn’t believed, Janna made up a new wort, meticulously tasting the barley malt, the wild hops and also the water before combining them in the mash tun. Every step was closely observed by Sybil. It would take several days before the brew was ready, and Janna knew the tavern would continue to lose business unless customers were prepared to pay the price for wine. Nevertheless, the process couldn’t be hurried, and besides, she was determined to do everything right. She tasted all the herbs that made up the gruit, pulling a face at some of the more pungent among them. As a final test, she asked Sybil to taste the ale once it was ready for serving to the customers.
“Perfect.” Sybil smacked her lips, looking pleased for the first time in days.
Satisfied, Janna fixed the bush to the pole and rang the bell. Then she filled the jugs and took them out. But few customers came, and those only travelers who had not been told of the tavern’s sullied reputation. The word had gone around; it seemed that previously loyal customers now preferred to try their luck elsewhere. But at least the tainted ale hadn’t been reported, for they hadn’t been asked to give an explanation nor make reparation in any way. Janna took some comfort from having escaped the ducking stool.
But she could not be easy in her mind. On occasion, a potential customer would come to the door, look around the empty tavern and back hastily away, preferring to go in search of livelier surroundings. One such, she was almost sure, was Mus. The moment she noticed him, she turned and walked quickly out of the tavern. She didn’t dare go back for quite some time, in spite of Sybil’s scolding. She didn’t think Mus had seen her, but couldn’t be sure. After that, she redoubled her efforts to make sure she was never alone in the yard, especially at night, but his face haunted her dreams, and several times she woke gasping for air, certain his hands had been around her throat.
In an effort to attract customers back to the tavern, Sybil offered ale at half price during the hour after Vespers. And Elfric put the new bake house to good use and invented a pie, with chunks of beef, onions and mushrooms simmered in a rich gravy to which ale had been added. The smell of it made Janna’s mouth water as she took one of the pies out to a party of customers. They were strangers to the town and Janna hoped they would spread the word as they traveled about, so that more customers might be encouraged to return.
She set a knife, spoons and bowls on the table, and saw eager hands stretching out to cut and sample the appetizing fare. She turned to take another order, only to jerk around in alarm as a shout of outrage filled the room.
“What do you call this?” The traveler had jabbed his knife into a large chunk of meat and now he held it up for Janna’s inspection. Peering closer, Janna realized there was a long tail attached to the morsel.
Her insides contracted in disgust. “I-I’m sorry, so sorry,” she stuttered, and snatched up the trencher. She wanted to grab the mouse as well, but the man was still holding it on the point of his knife, his eyes glassy with disbelief as he swung it in front of the fascinated gaze of the others at his table.
“Please…” Janna pointed at it, willing him to put it down before the few other customers in the tavern realized what was wrong.
He stared at her. Then, with a mutt
ered curse, he dropped mouse and knife onto the table, pushed back his stool and strode out, followed by his companions. Janna was instantly aware of how quiet the room had become. She looked up, and met accusing stares. Once again, the good name of the tavern would suffer.
Her mind was full of questions as she took the offensive evidence out to show Elfric. Tainted ale? Yes, it was just possible that there’d been something wrong with the water – because Janna was not prepared to accept that anything she’d put into the brew was at fault. But a mouse in a pie? Could it have gone in search of something to eat and been cooked in the filling by accident? It seemed unlikely.
That possibility was vehemently denied by Elfric when Janna set the pie before him. He was highly indignant at having his expertise questioned. “How do I know you’re not responsible?” he muttered darkly. “First the ale, and now this.”
Alerted by the uproar in the tavern, Sybil had come out to join in the interrogation. “You took the trencher through,” she pointed out to Janna.
“The mouse didn’t just drop into the pie! There was a layer of pastry on top of it!”
“Well, it was certainly there and in full view of the customers! If it didn’t crawl into the pie filling by accident, then it must have been put there on purpose. Why? Can you tell me that?” Sybil’s glance swiveled from Janna to Elfric and back again. They both shook their heads.
But Sybil’s question remained with Janna for the rest of the night. She couldn’t get the mouse out of her mind. Mouse – Mus! Was this a message from Mus that he knew where she was, and was watching her? Trying to discredit her? Last time he’d lain in wait and attacked her outright – and been caught. Was he playing a more devious game this time – cat and mouse, perhaps?
Or were the problems at the tavern actually directed at Sybil, to drive her customers away? Janna remembered the rival alehouses: Heaven, Hell and Paradise. No doubt they would be busier than ever as patrons of the Bell and Bush took their custom elsewhere. And there was certainly some bad feeling against Sybil for poaching their customers by lowering the price of her ale. Professional jealousy seemed a far more likely explanation than Mus’s revenge, but Janna decided to investigate further before she voiced her suspicions. And she knew just the right person to help her.
*
“I want you to go to Hell,” she said.
“Pardon?” Ulf blinked at her.
“And Heaven. And Paradise,” Janna added quickly.
“That sounds more tempting. How do you propose I get there? Die? Or just fly straight up into the sky?”
“You walk down the high street.”
“And why would I want to do that?”
Janna looked around the almost empty tavern. Ulf was one of only a few customers who had stayed loyal to the Bell and Bush following the fiasco of the ruined ale and the mouse pie. “Because I want you to spy for me.”
A gleam of interest lit Ulf’s eyes. “And what am I looking for, exactly?”
“I’m not sure,” Janna confessed. Ulf had already heard about the recent upsets; now she explained to him what she was thinking. “I can’t believe it happened by chance,” she concluded. “I think it was done deliberately by someone trying to take custom away from the Bell and Bush. So, can you find out who owns the alehouses for a start?” Was she right in her summing-up of the situation? She was suddenly assailed by doubt. “Could you also…” She was about to mention Mus, but thought better of it. Ulf had never met him, and wouldn’t know what he looked like.
“Also?”
“Also look out for Ebba?” Janna improvised. When she thought about it, the notion was actually quite credible. “You remember – the serving maid whose place I took? She parted on bad terms with Sybil, and there’s no way of knowing what happened to her after that. If that merchant has thrown her out, she may have fallen on hard times. So, if it’s not one or other of the alehouses wanting to pick up custom from the tavern, then maybe it’s Ebba seeking revenge?”
Ulf rubbed his large nose, looking thoughtful. “Has she been back to the tavern? Have you seen her?”
“No. But that’s not to say she didn’t sneak in when no-one was watching.”
“It’s possible,” Ulf granted.
“So, can you visit the alehouses and see who’s there and what information you can pick up?”
Ulf grinned at her. “I could offer relics for sale, guaranteed to take care of a guilty conscience. What do you think about that?”
“If you can profit from it, Ulf, and flush out the culprit at the same time, so much the better,” Janna assured him as she returned his grin.
*
The tavern was very quiet that night, and Janna soon got bored with so few customers to serve. Ossie put in an appearance periodically, but Janna knew he was spending most of his time in the kitchen, cadging food from Elfric, while Wat was barely to be seen at all. She caught Sybil eyeing her once or twice and wondered if the taverner held her responsible, and whether she was thinking of letting her go rather than risk anything else going wrong. There were certainly not enough customers to warrant her hire.
The thought frightened Janna. In the kitchen, at night after the tavern closed, she’d begun to concoct the lotions, salves and creams she’d learned under the tuition of her mother and Sister Anne. She’d been afraid she might have forgotten the recipes, and it was a joy to remember and use her old skills. She knew, from past experience, that her preparations would prove popular when she came to sell them, thus earning her a profit and, eventually, the means either to establish a small business of her own or finance her visit to Normandy. It would be a calamity if she had to leave the tavern now; it would put an end to all her plans. The thought fired her determination to get to the bottom of the mishaps.
She was quick to pounce on Ulf when he returned later in the evening, just as Sybil was about to bolt the door against the night. On seeing a customer, the taverner pushed it wide once more, but quickly stepped into his path when she saw Brutus trying to slink in behind Ulf.
“The dog’s harmless,” Janna reassured her. “And it’s so quiet tonight, he won’t get in anyone’s way.”
“I’m not having that animal in here.” Sybil didn’t budge. She put her fists on her hips and glared at Brutus. “You can tie him up out in the yard. That’s where he belongs.”
Janna pulled an apologetic face at Ulf, who merely grinned at her as he pulled a length of rope out of his pocket. “I’ll be back,” he said.
“Have you seen or heard anything interesting?” Janna asked, as soon as he returned. She sat him down, set up his mug and poured ale into it.
“I’ll have a bowl of stew to go with this, mistress, if you please,” Ulf shouted over her shoulder at Sybil, who was hovering close by. He gave Janna a wink as the taverner hastened out to fetch the food.
“I went to all the alehouses.” He gave a loud hiccup to prove the truth of his words, and took a long swallow from the mug in front of him. “They’re all doing a great trade, as busy as the Bell and Bush used to be.” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and burped gently.
“And?” Janna prompted impatiently.
“I spoke to the alewives. They seem decent enough. Keen for business, of course, but I doubt they’d play these sorts of tricks to steal custom from a rival – even supposing they were able to come into the tavern unobserved, which seems unlikely. They knew what had happened here, of course, and are delighted that Sybil has got her ‘come-uppance,’ as one of them called it. But I find it hard to believe that any of them is responsible for what’s been happening here.”
“And I suppose they couldn’t count on our customers coming in to their own alehouses even if they did succeed in taking them away from the tavern,” Janna said thoughtfully.
“But I did discover something of interest.” Ulf leaned back on his stool and beamed at Janna, looking proud of himself. “That girl whose place you took. She’s working in Hell now.”
“Best place for Ebba, if you ask me
.”
“You’d think so if you heard her talking.”
“Why? What’s she saying?”
“Nothing good about Sybil, or the Bell and Bush. Says she’s not surprised bad things have been happening here, given the way Sybil runs the tavern and the people she employs. It’s ‘the worst in the whole world,’ according to Ebba. She seems to have done right well for herself, all dressed up and with airs and graces to match. But she’s full of spite against Sybil, says the taverner was against her from the start and never gave her a fair trial. She hates you too.”
“Me? Why?”
“Says you were after her job and that it’s your fault that Sybil got rid of her.”
“But that’s ridiculous! You saw what happened. From what I can gather, the girl was useless. It was only a matter of time before Sybil let her go,” Janna protested.
“That’s not the way she’s talking. She says it’s because of your carelessness that the ale was tainted and the mouse got in the pie. And there’s plenty who agree with her, after the bellyache you gave them with that ale.”
“It wasn’t my fault!” Janna punched his arm hard, not even trying to be playful.
“Ow!” Ulf rubbed his arm, looking rueful. “I know that,” he said. “I’m only repeating what’s being said elsewhere.”
“I hope Sybil doesn’t come to hear any of this.” Janna knew she was likely to lose her job if she did. She prided herself on the brews she made, and was desperate to clear her name. “What’s happening in Heaven and in Paradise?”
“They’re both busy, a lot busier than here.” Ulf looked around the deserted tavern. “I spoke to some of the customers, told them how delicious the new ale is at the Bell and Bush, and the food. But the word’s got around there too. Still, it might do some good.”
Janna wished she could share Ulf’s optimism. “Thank you for trying,” she said quietly.
“Another interesting thing.” Ulf picked up his mug and drank deep, taking his time. “That merchant,” he said at last. “The one who used to come in here a lot. The one that Ebba took up with.” He fell into silence as Sybil came toward them, bearing a heaped bowl of stew. Janna stared at the huge portion, and wondered if Sybil was hoping to tempt customers back by giving them an extra helping. Judging by Ulf’s wolfish grin, she thought the tactic might well prove very successful. Without further ado, he picked up the spoon and tucked in.
Devilʼs Brew: The Janna Chronicles 5 Page 15