“Then we must bribe the gatekeeper.” Janna patted the fat purse that hung from her waist. A thought stopped her: How would she explain her riches when her appearance was that of a beggar? After a moment’s thought she untied the purse and handed it over to Gervase. Together, they approached the gate.
“Who goes there?”
Gervase moved forward to answer the guard. To Janna’s surprise, for he’d shown no capacity for flights of fancy in the past, he launched into an explanation of an unexpected delay and a cruel master who would skin them alive if they did not make it home before daybreak. Janna kept her head meekly bowed as the gatekeeper subjected her to a careful inspection before waving them through. It was clear that he had been alerted to the empress’s escape and was bidden to watch out for her. It cheered Janna’s spirits greatly to realize that the empress must have managed to escape, while his caution meant she must still be free.
Once they were through the gate, Gervase handed the purse back to Janna. Murmuring her thanks, she extracted several coins and dropped them into his palm before securing the purse to her belt once more. Cutting off his protestations and thanks, she spurred her horse to a gallop, anxious to reach Godstow Abbey before dawn.
It had finally stopped snowing. Clouds were lifting to reveal moonlight through their ragged edges, giving them some light along their way. Shivers still racked Janna’s body, from cold but also from the aftermath of fear and shock. She wanted to shout in triumph that she’d managed to overcome all obstacles and had survived, yet underlying her elation was concern that, after all, the empress might yet be captured and her ordeal have been in vain.
But her problems were by no means over, Janna realized, as they came at last to Godstow Abbey and were shown, with some reluctance on the part of the gatekeeper, who didn’t recognize her in her new guise, into the guest quarters. There, she was confronted by her father. Not immediately recognizing her, and being too anxious to pay any attention to a shivering wretch, he immediately turned his wrath on the unfortunate Gervase.
“Where have you been?” he thundered. “I left you here and charged you to look after my daughter, but I suppose you’ve been sneaking off to visit the town’s whores. And in your absence my daughter has disappeared! I am in fear of her very life, for no-one seems to know what’s become of her.”
There was a brief and awkward silence. Janna did not dare look at Gervase as she stepped forward and said meekly, “I am here, Father.”
John took an audible breath of relief as he swung around. His face darkened as he studied her. Disbelief turned into anger. He turned on Gervase, his hands knotted into fists. “So this is how well you undertake your duties.” Janna rushed forward and grabbed hold of her father just in time to prevent him taking a swipe at her anxious escort.
“You are not to blame Gervase for any of this for I ordered him to come with me,” she said breathlessly. “But I alone am responsible for my absence from the abbey, and I can explain everything.” A shudder shook her body; her teeth chattered from the cold. “But may I first exchange my clothes for something warmer?”
“Yes, and clean yourself up at the same time.” John surveyed Janna’s mud-smeared face and tattered clothing with a scowl. “And your explanation, when it comes, had better be good, for I swear to you that if you were any younger I wouldn’t hesitate to…” His threats died away as he realized they were not alone. “Get to your quarters,” he told Gervase. “I will speak to you later, after I have heard what my daughter has to say for herself.” He stalked over to a stool beside the fire, sat down, and held out his hands to the warmth.
Janna fled, relieved that she was to escape the beating her father had been too circumspect to mention, yet knowing that any other punishment would also hurt, even if not in quite the same way.
As she changed out of her clothes and sponged herself clean from a basin of hot water brought from the kitchen by a young lay sister, she tried to rehearse what she might say in her own defense. To her dismay, every argument seemed to reinforce her own folly. How could she have thought to place not only herself but also Osbern and Gervase – and yes, even the empress – in such danger, when, if she’d only taken her father into her confidence, there might well have been a simpler and more effective solution to the problem?
But every time Janna argued herself to that point, she could go no further, for it seemed to her that there was no solution, simple or otherwise, other than taking the risk. Nevertheless, she was feeling greatly chastened by the time she reappeared. Once faced with the irate John, all words deserted her. Instead, she ran into his arms, pressed her face against his chest, and began to weep as fright and its aftermath took their toll.
He stood stiff and unmoving at the start, but then Janna felt his fingers move across her hair, petting and soothing her as he might a stray kitten. The tender gesture utterly unnerved her and she wept harder, all the while struggling to regain control of her emotions.
“Hush now. Shh…shh.” John held her close. This, then, was what it felt like to have a father, Janna thought, and her throat constricted in sorrow for all the years she’d felt his absence. She also knew a deep sense of shame that she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him of her idea, and ask for his help. Now, though, she would tell him the truth. The thought that it was too late for him to stop her helped in some small measure to dry her tears. Wanting a father, but not wanting to be controlled by him, was something she needed to ponder for the future. But for now she must explain her actions to him, and in such a way that no blame at all could attach to Gervase. She owed her loyal guard that much, at the very least.
Once she had composed herself enough to talk, she broke away from her father’s embrace and sat down beside the fire. It had been newly tended, and she took comfort from the roaring flames and their cheerful warmth. In her absence, John had called for mulled wine and now he thrust a goblet into her hands. Janna took a long swallow, relishing its heat as the liquid slipped down her throat and into her belly. She took a last sip and began to speak of the night’s escapade, including her close brush with the king’s men and the measures she’d been forced to take to evade capture.
“I…I’m so sorry, Papa, that I had to leave behind my fur mantle and veil,” she stammered, feeling her heart beat faster as she noticed how furious he looked. “But you must not blame Gervase for my actions. I commanded him to accompany me, even though he first argued against it and then urged me to take more men to guard me, once he saw I was committed to my plan.”
She stole a glance at her father. His expression had changed to a sort of grim amusement that went a great way toward cheering Janna’s spirits. “Young woman you might be, but you still deserve a thrashing for this night’s escapade,” he growled.
“Yes, Father.” Janna was hopeful now that he wouldn’t carry out his threat.
“But my sister will likely want to honor you for your efforts on her behalf.”
“Have you heard anything?” Janna asked eagerly. “Has she managed to escape?”
“I know not, but I shall try to find out. And, Johanna, next time you’re tempted to risk your neck on such folly, will you please talk to me first?” From the angry glint in her father’s eyes, Janna knew this was a command, not a request. And yet she felt some sympathy with his viewpoint. Her capture and unmasking would have caused an irretrievable rip in the relationship between her father and the king. And if it had come to the worst, she was hopeful enough to believe her father would honestly mourn her death. His shock and anger surely bore witness to the fact that he cared about her.
“As for the king…” John surveyed his daughter thoughtfully and shook his head. “I cannot call on him again. Although he has asked to meet you, I dare not introduce you to him now, for he will have heard of the chase after the empress and may well suspect your part in her escape – if escaped she has.” He gave a regretful sigh. “He must not see you, at least until your hair has returned to its rightful color. And until the memory of thi
s night has faded somewhat in his mind. The problem is – ” He stared into the fire. Janna waited, wondering what was to follow.
“The problem is, I spoke to Stephen about finding an eligible husband for you, and he is waiting to introduce you to someone whom he believes will be a good match. I have agreed to it, because I am determined to see you safely wed before I go back to Normandy.”
Janna listened with a sinking heart, not quite sure what to say. Her every instinct was to flatly refuse to marry anyone of her father’s choice. But she knew full well that now was not the time to say so, although she was still determined to win him around to her way of thinking. “I hope he’s young, handsome and rich,” she said, trying to make a jest instead.
“I hope so too. The king did not say – perhaps because I did not ask. But he must meet you before we can take this any further.”
Janna was pricked with curiosity. But her desire to follow her heart came well before her desire to meet the empress’s captor. “Is my prospective husband someone with whom I can fall in love?” she asked, desperate for any shred of information, no matter how slight.
“Love?” John raised an eyebrow.
“You married my mother for love!” It was the best weapon she had, and Janna prayed that it would be powerful enough to change her father’s mind when the time came.
“That was different.”
“But you would not want me, the child of your love, to settle for anything less, surely?”
Her father gave a small huff of disagreement. “We shall see, when you become presentable once more. And a further thing. I mentioned my intentions regarding my family, and also my property here in England. The king has promised to honor my wishes if I draw up a document to that effect. I shall just have to make up some excuse about being called away before I could present you to him. Bear in mind, Johanna, that this night must never be spoken of again, for if word of it reaches Stephen…” John picked up the goblet of wine and stared gloomily into its depths. He took a long draft and set it down carefully. “I shall visit a notary to draw up a testament, but I’m afraid that’s all I can accomplish on this visit to Oxeneford.”
“Yes, Father. I understand.” Although Janna was sorry the matter of her inheritance could not be dealt with just yet, it was canceled out by her enormous relief that the matter of her marriage could not be dealt with either.
Chapter 4
When Janna and her father returned to Winchestre, bad news awaited them. A winter storm had sunk the boat carrying a load of stone needed for the rebuilding of the new house. It seemed they would have to spend the holy days of Christ’s birth with the bishop at Wolvesey after all.
Perhaps because of John’s conscience over the defeat of the king’s plans for the empress – or more likely, because he feared the wily bishop would take one look at his daughter and suspect the truth if he came home – he immediately looked for lodgings close to where his manor was being rebuilt. The family was removed there without delay, on the excuse that closer supervision was needed.
With all the fuss and bother that the move entailed, Janna escaped too much attention. She was grateful not to have to answer questions as she washed and washed her hair, until it gradually lightened to its true color. She and her father had pretended innocence when a report came of the king’s fury over the empress’s escape, seemingly from under the noses of his soldiers who, despite Matilda being spied by several bystanders out in the streets, had been unable to capture her. A later report, from someone claiming to be an eyewitness, said that the empress and her small party had escaped through a window in the tower. They’d let themselves down on a rope and, clad in white cloaks, had walked across the frozen river. It seemed that the empress had found men and horses waiting at Abingdon to speed her way to safety. The latest report, passed on by one of John’s stewards, was that the empress was now safe with her brother at his castle in Devizes, and overjoyed to be reunited with her oldest son, Henry, who had accompanied the Earl of Gloucestre on his passage back to England.
This news John shared with Janna, but not the rest of his family, while once again issuing a warning. “You must tell no-one,” he said. “It is impossible to be sure where anyone’s loyalty lies in these difficult days, and I will not put you in further danger – or jeopardize my own position – if news of your recent activities leaks out. Say nothing even to my wife, or Giles and the girls.”
Mention of Blanche dampened Janna’s joy at the confirmation of the empress’s safe escape from Stephen’s blockade. Perhaps her father read this in her expression, for he sought to reassure her.
“You need have no fear, Johanna. I have given much thought to what has occurred, and I have now charged my wife to keep you safe or else find her own inheritance forfeit. I hope you’ll find my family more welcoming as a result. Indeed, I hope that in time you will think of my family as your own.”
While she believed that there was more chance of hell freezing over, Janna took some comfort from her father’s words. Nevertheless, she recognized that there were other, more subtle, tricks that Blanche might play; she must not allow herself to be lulled into a false sense of security.
As they gradually settled into their new quarters, and joyfully celebrated the birth of the Christ child and the gift giving of the new year, Janna’s fears began to subside. Blanche kept her and her half-sisters busy with spinning and stitching when it was too bitter to venture out. A study of Latin also kept her occupied, her father having decided that it might benefit all of his children to have some knowledge of the language of the church. But there were also numerous festivities to enjoy, parties and games, although Janna was forced to acknowledge that her siblings’ ability to play music and their skill at board games far outstripped her own. Nevertheless, she was learning the duties, manners and skills of a noblewoman – and learning them fast.
On several occasions, Janna accompanied her father on visits to the stone manor that was being constructed over the ruins of the old house. Further building would not be possible until the new shipload of stone arrived, but there was still much other work to be done and many decisions to be made. To Janna’s delight, her father consulted her on everything, for, as he reminded her, this would be her home in time to come.
She cherished this time alone with him, but even more, she delighted in the chance to escape from the close confines of his family. She’d quickly learned that it was not considered desirable for a young woman to walk out on her own, so the time spent outside the house with her father was her only relief. And she used it well to order things as she wished, most particularly in the garden, for in that rested her hopes for the future. There was little to do during the winter months, but Janna approved the design of the raised beds where, in spring and on her instructions, medicinal and kitchen herbs as well as flowers, vegetables and fruit trees would be planted.
Godric was constantly in Janna’s thoughts, but she knew she must be patient and wait until the manor house was completed and furnished before she spoke to her father regarding her mother’s death and the manner of her dying, and requested him to act on it. It would mean a journey back to her old home, and to Godric, but there was no telling how long they would be gone and Janna was sure her father would want everything to be in place here in Winchestre before he undertook such a mission. More than anything, she hoped that Blanche would grow tired of waiting and return to Normandy, as she’d threatened to do on more than one occasion.
But it seemed the woman preferred to stay in order to keep an eye both on her husband and her newly acquired stepdaughter. As the weather warmed into spring and John encouraged his wife to return to their family home, Blanche found any number of excuses to delay. Worse, so far as Janna was concerned, she spent her time casting doubts on the steward’s management of the estates in England, while in the same breath extolling Giles’s superior expertise and his greater authority as his father’s only son. Janna wondered if Blanche’s words would erode John’s resolve, just as drops of
water could wear a hole in stone, yet she could find nothing to say in her own defense that her father did not already know.
This was only one of the concerns that kept her occupied, as green shoots began to poke through the dark earth and bare branches drew on soft mantles of spring green. Her plan for the future was taking shape along with the new garden, a plan that she had no intention of sharing with anyone, least of all a husband chosen for her by her father. Somehow she must convince him she had no need of a husband, at least not yet. After all, she could read, write and reckon more skillfully than Giles, and she was well able to ensure that the steward handled her father’s affairs with honesty. Nor did she need anyone’s help to put her future plan into action. She already had the knowledge of herbs and the healing skills she’d learned from her mother and from others she had met along her quest to find her father, and soon she would have the premises to fulfill her dream of establishing a hospitium for those in need of her knowledge.
Her unfinished quest also nagged at Janna. She needed to convince her father to return to her old home in order to prosecute the man responsible for her mother’s death. And, if her mother’s body had not been taken to Ambresberie, she and her father must also persuade the abbess of Wiltune to rebury her mother in consecrated ground, and give her the full rites of a funeral mass.
Even more important to Janna was the need to bring her father and Godric together and convince her father of Godric’s true worth. Her father had married for love – how could he deny his daughter the same chance of happiness? But here Janna’s imagination always faltered, for her future was so precarious; seemingly bright but potentially terrifying. She could not face the prospect of what she most desired being snatched from her grasp, but knew that if her father insisted she marry another she would have no choice but to obey his command – or run away to be with Godric. And if she did, she would take Godric to ruin with her.
Day of Judgment: The Janna Chronicles 6 Page 8