“And where is the bishop living now?” she asked. The old palace in the center of the city had been destroyed and it was clear the bishop had no intention of rebuilding it. Likewise, the royal castle outside the West Gate had taken a battering. So far as anyone knew, it had stood deserted since the empress and her supporters had fled.
“The bishop’s at his palace at Wolvesey, with his entourage. That includes your father.” Hugh hesitated, looking suddenly awkward. “I should warn you that his family is with him,” he said. “Do you know that your father has a wife, a son and two daughters?”
“Yes, I do. I haven’t met his wife and daughters yet. Nor will I, if my father has anything to do with it.” Janna stopped, feeling dangerously close to tears.
“Are things so bad between you?” Hugh’s tone was gentle.
Janna nodded, and took a quick breath. “Have you met my – my father’s family?” she asked, curious to know something about these rivals for her father’s love.
Hugh shook his head. “I’ve only just arrived back here. I’ve been at Tuiforde with my – with Eleanor. I did ask around before I left, as I promised I would, but I got nowhere.” He gave Janna a wry grin. “Then I heard Sire Geoffrey talking about a ‘John fitz Henry’ and I knew at once who that must be. So I suggested that he invite them to witness my…my marriage to his daughter, and so he has.”
“May I come too, my lord?” The words were out before Janna had a chance to think through the consequences. She read Hugh’s reaction in his startled glance at her tunic and spattered apron.
“My apologies, lord,” she said quickly, feeling mortified. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Eleanor and I will make our vows in front of the priest,” Hugh said doubtfully. “Anyone can come to witness that. But…but I’m sorry, Johanna, I cannot invite you to the celebration feast that follows, for how would I explain your presence to my…my betrothed? Or my future father-in-law?” The thought of his impending nuptials had cast a shadow across Hugh’s face. “But for all that, I would like you to be there,” he added wistfully. “Perhaps I could announce you as your father’s daughter?”
“He won’t thank you for that!” But Janna was aching with curiosity to see her father’s family, as well as Hugh’s betrothed. “No, my lord, I’m sorry I asked. I’ll come to witness your vows, if I may, but I don’t expect you to acknowledge me. I don’t wish to embarrass either you or your bride. Or my father.” It would give her the chance to see her new family without their realizing who she was. This thought was followed by another possibility, but Janna pushed it aside to think about later.
“In truth, I would like you to be there, Johanna.” Hugh paused a moment, and cleared his throat. He took a deep breath. “Indeed, I wish with all my heart that it could be you by my side instead of Eleanor when I make my vows.”
Janna heard the raw pain in his voice as he admitted his true feelings. But there was nothing she could say or do to make things right for him, and so she remained silent.
“It’s too late for us, isn’t it?” Hugh persevered, adding almost to himself, “I had my chance at happiness. I should have had the courage to take it.” He reached out to touch her cheek in a tender caress. Janna caught her breath. If only this was Godric standing in front of her, if only…
She knew the regret on his face was mirrored on her own. “You will find happiness with your wife, my lord, if you come to the marriage with a loving and cheerful heart,” she said firmly, hoping that her words would prove true.
“I shall certainly do my best,” he said unhappily. “It seems that Eleanor is pleased enough to have me.”
“And I wish you both all the joy in the world,” Janna encouraged him. “When are you to be wed?”
“On Sunday at noon, a week after the fair closes.”
The fair. Janna had planned toward it, but in light of the problems at the tavern and her father’s arrival, she’d all but forgotten about it. Now, it was almost upon them. Already the town was becoming crowded with strangers, merchants eager to buy and sell and make up for their lost trade at the time of the siege. The guesthouses of the abbeys would also be filling rapidly. She did a quick calculation. If she could come up with a proper plan to convince her father to admit her into his family, there might be enough time for her to carry it through and also fulfil her obligation to Sybil. But first she needed to find out more.
“And where are you to be wed, my lord?”
“We’ll take our vows at the door of the cathedral.” Hugh sounded as gloomy as if he was speaking of his own execution. “Once our vows have been witnessed, there’ll be a nuptial mass. After that, guests are invited to Tuiforde for a celebration feast at Sire Geoffrey’s manor.”
And after that, the marriage would be consummated. Janna’s body, awakened by Hugh’s soft caress, quivered at the thought of what it would mean to lie with a man. With Godric. She closed her eyes lest they betray her sudden hunger.
“Johanna,” Hugh said, and his voice was husky with wanting as he stepped closer, close enough to kiss her. “Is it too late, even now, for us to make a life together?”
Johanna. Hugh had always called her that, just as her father did now. But in her heart she was still Janna, independent and free. All that would change if she became a daughter; more so if she became a wife. Or even Hugh’s leman. This was not what she wanted: being told what to do, where to live, and how to behave for the rest of her life.
“No!” Janna put her fists against Hugh’s chest and pushed him away. Everything she’d once thought she wanted had turned upside down. But there was one thing of which she was certain, and it must be said. “No,” she said again. “If you break your betrothal now you’ll bring shame on both of us, my lord. There’s no future for us, none at all.” And without giving him time to argue, she turned and fled.
She could feel her heart racing, pounding in her breast, but she knew she’d made the right decision. There was nothing to gain by leading Hugh on and fueling his desire. She had to get away from him, and stay away from him, preferably out of sight. And so she left instructions with Ossie to refill the pitchers of ale and keep on serving the customers.
After a quick look outside, and taking comfort from the fact that there were people to help her in case Mus should be lurking about, she fled to the brew house. But although she’d escaped from Hugh, she could not escape her own turbulent thoughts. There’d been a time when she’d dreamed of a life with Hugh, had desired it most desperately, but now that he was within her grasp, all she could think about was Godric – and his lord’s plans for him and Cecily. She realized how lucky an escape she’d had in refusing Hugh. Being with him, either as wife or mistress, and having to confront Godric every day in his new life with Cecily would have made her own life a living hell.
A further thought intruded to unsettle Janna. Would Godric be with Hugh when he took his marriage vows? She feared it, while acknowledging that she longed to see him again, even if only for one last time. It was a risk she would have to take, because foremost in her mind was her need to fulfil the oath sworn to her mother. All being well, she would take the first step toward achieving that on the day that Hugh and Eleanor were wed. She began to prepare a new brew while thinking through the plan that she hoped might answer all her needs.
With Sybil out of the way, Janna had resolved to try a new recipe, this time using the sweetness of elderflowers to flavor the ale. Ulf’s disparaging remarks about the ale at Paradise gave her the confidence to think that, barring any more accidents, she could continue to woo customers back to the Bell and Bush for the fine ales and the food they served. As she added barley malt to the hot water in the mash tun, she turned her thoughts to the more pressing matter in hand: what herbs she might use for the gruit, once the mix had fermented and been strained. Sweet flag, betony, or agrimony? Not wormwood; the bitterness would mask the sweetness of the elderflowers she would add right at the end, along with a pinch of Elfric’s precious ginger, perhaps?
Janna frowned, wondering why she seemed familiar. Young women didn’t often frequent the tavern on their own, unless their purpose was to leave with a man. But Sybil always did her best to discourage them, for she claimed that whores gave the tavern a bad name and attracted the wrong sorts of customers. It was clear that this girl hadn’t come to pick up a likely prospect, for she had left alone – and unobserved, or so she hoped.
Janna looked about the yard, and saw Wat disappearing into the kitchen. Had he seen the woman in crimson? Did he know who she was? Janna followed him into the kitchen to find out.
“She’s me sister.” Wat blinked at Janna. “She just come to see how I’m doin’, is all.”
Fair enough, Janna thought, but why the secrecy? “Who is your sister?” she asked. “Has she been here before?”
Wat stared at her. “Why d’ ya want to know?” he asked. “What’s it to you?”
Janna shrugged. “Just curious,” she admitted, wondering why he sounded so defensive. “I didn’t realize you had any family living in Winchestre, Wat.” As she said that, she remembered her introduction to the tavern so many moons ago. “He’s a lazy runt of a lad,” Sybil had said, “as bad as his sister.”
Janna clapped her hand to her forehead as she made the connection. Ebba! But a very different Ebba from the humble drudge whom Sybil had once employed. No wonder Janna hadn’t recognized her, dressed as she was in such finery. Her eyes narrowed in concentration as several possibilities occurred to her.
She became aware that Wat was still staring at her. “It’s no matter to me that you have a sister, Wat,” she said airily. “I was just showing a friendly interest, that’s all. Do you see much of her?” She hoped Wat might speak more freely if he thought she hadn’t recognized Ebba. But he scowled at her and left the kitchen without answering.
Janna looked after him, her mind spinning with questions. She couldn’t believe that Ebba had come out of sisterly concern; the visit must have had another purpose behind it, and Janna very much feared she knew what it was. Why else would Wat be so reluctant to talk? On that thought, she hurried back to the brew house to test the ale.
To her relief, every barrel ran sweet. She came out again and saw that Wat was now busy scrubbing pots at the pump out in the yard. He glanced up briefly and went back to his task. Janna walked on to the kitchen, knowing that in Wat’s absence she would be able to speak freely to Elfric.
“Did you see Ebba this afternoon?” she asked the cook.
“Yair.” He lifted his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug.
“What did she want?” Janna’s gaze circled the kitchen, seeking anything that looked out of place or untoward.
“She came to see Wat. Why, what of it?” Elfric took a pinch of mustard seeds from a small pot and stirred them into a cauldron of marrowbone stew hanging over the fire.
“Does she often visit her brother?”
Elfric paused to consider the question. “Haven’t seen her before today, not since Sybil kicked her out.”
It wasn’t what Janna had expected to hear, and she frowned. But that didn’t stop her fearing the worst. “Make sure you taste everything before it leaves the kitchen,” she implored.
Elfric’s eyebrows rose in an unspoken question.
“Mouse pie? Tainted ale?” Janna’s gaze fell on the pot of small yellow seeds. She remembered the burning taste of the ale and quickly popped one into her mouth. She bit down on it, felt it hot and sharp against her tongue, and spat the seed into her hand.
“Mustard – and salt as an emetic.” She nodded, pleased to have got to the bottom of the mystery. “Do you always have mustard seeds on hand, Elfric?”
“Yair.” Elfric was starting to look at her strangely now. “I use them to flavor stews, especially vegetable pottage.”
“Have you been using more than usual lately?”
Elfric sucked on his teeth as he thought about it. “No, not lately. But a while ago I had to send Wat out to buy some in the market place when I thought I already had a full pot here at hand.” He shook his head in bemusement. “More salt too. Yet I could’ve sworn – ”
“You didn’t taste the tainted ale, but I did. The ale was hot as fire, and it made people vomit. Your mustard seeds – and salt – were added to the brew.”
“Are you accusing me of poisoning the ale?” Elfric drew himself up, frowning ferociously.
“No!” Janna patted his arm to calm him down. “No, I’m just saying we need to be careful, that’s all.” She was thinking of Ebba. Or Wat? She wondered if Elfric had also made the connection. But he just grunted, and turned to give his full attention to prodding the marrowbones so that their rich contents spilled out, adding extra flavor to the stew.
She went back into the brew house, needing to give herself time to think, to come up with a plan. Once she’d given the mix a stir, she ventured back into the tavern. To her great relief, Hugh had left. Perhaps he too had sensed the danger of his proposal. She made herself a silent promise never to be alone with him in the future. She glanced about, hoping to see Ulf, but there was no sign of him either. Promising herself that she would talk to him the moment he came in, she went upstairs to Sybil.
The wound on the back of the taverner’s head was starting to heal, Janna was pleased to note, as she unwound the bandage and carefully spread ointment over the affected part. Sybil winced, but bore her ministrations without complaint. “Thank you for your care of me, Janna,” she said, when she was comfortably settled once more. “I really don’t know how I would have managed without you.”
Janna was pleased but tried not to show it. She knew that Sybil didn’t like anyone to make a fuss. But she thought the words meant that Sybil had begun to trust her at last. The taverner was more alert now, and on her way to recovery. It was time to try to jog her memory once more. “Have you remembered anything at all about the attack on you?”
“No.” Sybil shook her head in frustration, then winced at the pain of it. “Believe me, if I had I would tell you the moment I thought of it.”
Janna decided to test her suspicions. She couldn’t help hoping she was right, if only to soothe her own uneasy conscience about her silence over Mus. “Do you think you could have been attacked by a woman?”
“No!” The answer came without thought and Janna’s hopes crumbled into disappointment. But it seemed that Sybil was reconsidering her reply. “At least, I don’t think so,” she amended. “Whoever it was came from behind. I didn’t see anything.”
“Or smell anything? Sweat, or – ”
“No.” To Janna’s relief, Sybil sounded quite definite.
“But you heard something,” Janna reminded her, thinking of the long crimson gown that Ebba wore. “The swish of a gown, perhaps, or the patter of a woman’s shoes?”
“No.” But Sybil sounded doubtful.
“Or the heavier tread of a man’s boots?”
“No. I don’t remember anything like that.” Sybil grasped Janna’s hand and pulled herself up to a sitting position. “I’m feeling quite well now,” she said, swinging her legs to the floor to prove her point. “It’s time I came downstairs.”
Janna couldn’t agree. “There’s no need to come down yet,” she soothed the taverner. “Business is picking up, we’re doing a good trade again. You don’t have to worry about anything, truly.”
“Except that you could probably use another pair of hands if things are as busy as you say.”
“We’re managing quite well as we are,” Janna contradicted. “And you d
on’t want the customers to see you with your head all bound up. That would really give them something to tattle about!”
“What are they saying now?”
“I told them you’re indisposed.” No way was she going to pass on to Sybil the news that the tavern was about to close.
“I could become a local attraction if they knew what had really happened,” Sybil said wryly. “People might come especially to see me.”
“It’s too much of a risk for you to come down and work in the tavern just yet. And I certainly can’t take that bandage off either, it’s too soon,” Janna said firmly. “Besides, there’s no need for you to be up and doing. Ossie is helping me serve the customers and Elfric is keeping Wat up to the mark.” She hesitated, wondering if she could push things a little further, even at the risk of upsetting Sybil. “Ebba paid a visit to Wat this afternoon,” she ventured.
Sybil’s expression hardened. “Slut!” She thought for a moment, then shrugged. “But I can’t stop her seeing her brother, I suppose.”
“Has she visited him before?”
“Not Ebba!” Sybil gave a snort at the very idea.
“She was dressed very fine.”
“Alan likes his drabs to be well dressed.” Sybil’s voice was sour as vinegar.
“But are they still together, do you know? Because I’m told that Ebba works at Hell now, but your – ” Janna bit the words off just in time. “The merchant drinks at other taverns.”
“If not Alan, she’ll have someone else. That girl ever had an eye for a likely prospect.”
“And Wat? Is he trustworthy, do you think?” Janna remembered how the young potboy had come to her rescue against Mus, and felt ashamed of her suspicions. But if Ebba wasn’t responsible for the tainted food and drink, who else?
“He’s a lazy son of Satan. I only took him on because Ebba begged me to give him employment. I suppose I could let him go now that she’s gone. Who knows, I might find a more willing worker to take his place.”
Devilʼs Brew: The Janna Chronicles 5 Page 21