“But she’s looking better in herself. You must encourage her to eat, Father. She will do so if she thinks it will please you.” It was the only positive comment Janna could make about her half-sister.
“Yes, Sister Anne has already had much to say on that matter.” John sighed. “I’m only now beginning to understand the depths of her hatred of you, Johanna. For example, she tells me you are in love with that man who was accused of murder. Godric. I’ve told her she is mistaken, but she was most insistent.”
Janna stole a glance at her father. The expression on his face gave nothing away.
“I recall that you were over-anxious to come to his aid, to prove his innocence,” John continued. “I suspected there might be some attachment between you from the past, but I told myself you had more sense than to harbor such feelings now, given your new situation.”
Janna took a breath, giving herself time to order her thoughts. She remembered Aldith’s advice to speak from the heart, and Sister Ursel’s comment on the love she’d witnessed between her father and Janna. Would love be enough to persuade him to her way of thinking?
“Richildis speaks the truth, Papa.” Something else Aldith had said came into Janna’s mind. “It was always my mother’s dearest wish that Godric and I would make a match together. She believed he would make a good husband for me.” It was the single most compelling argument she could come up with to convince her father.
“That was when you had no money and no prospects, Johanna. Things are very different now.” Janna thought she detected some sympathy in her father’s voice. It encouraged her to continue.
“Not so different, Papa. Regardless of his station in life, I love him, just as you once loved my mother. I’ll always love him, just as I suspect you love my mother still, in spite of your marriage to Dame Blanche.”
“You have your mother’s knack of turning an argument to your own benefit,” John told her. “But our situation was different from yours, Johanna. Your mother married wisely when she married me, because I could offer her wealth and status as well as love. And I would see you safely wed to a nobleman in a similar position.”
“Godric will look after me!”
“Godric has no property of his own. He is in no position to offer you the sort of future that befits the granddaughter of a king.”
“But you have wealth and status, Papa, and you have said you will confer some of your property on me. Surely that is enough for both of us!”
“And has he asked for your hand, even knowing that you are to be betrothed to another? Is he as anxious for the match as you seem to be?”
Janna hesitated. “Godric loves me, Papa, as I love him. I’ve suggested that we marry without your consent, or even that we should run away together. But he is honorable, and he will not agree to it. He did not know about my betrothal until Richildis told him yesterday, but even before then he argued that the difference in our station in life is too great for you to agree to the match.”
“I’ll give him credit for some sense, then.” John surveyed his daughter with narrowed eyes. “It’s a different matter altogether when a man marries a woman in order to gain her property and status. You have two examples right in front of you: the tragedy of Dame Alice’s match with Robert of Babestoche, and your friend Hugh’s loveless marriage to Eleanor.” He smiled, amused by Janna’s surprise. “I see more than you might realize,” he said dryly. “You may believe yourself in love with Godric, but I know that Hugh loves you far more than he loves his wife.”
“That may be, but Godric loves me for myself, not for my prospects.”
“Even my half-sister’s marriage is a disaster,” John spoke over her protest. “Geoffrey of Anjou was never the right choice for Matilda, no matter what my father might have thought.”
“But your father dictated that match just as you would dictate mine!” Angry now, Janna faced her father. “Have you considered that perhaps the mistake lies with the man rather than with his circumstances? I can’t answer for Geoffrey of Anjou because I don’t know him, but Robert of Babestoche would never have been a good match for Dame Alice even if he’d been born a baron. Hugh, on the other hand, is an honorable man and will make his wife happy even if he loves her not. And Godric is honorable too. He may not be a baron, but he will make me a good husband, Father. I know it.”
“And you say that he loves you as you love him?”
“He has told me so and I believe him.” Janna turned her head lest her father read her fear that Godric’s pride would not let him consent to the match even if it did have her father’s blessing.
John put his arm around her in a brief embrace. “I see you love him now, but William is a far more suitable match for you. I’ve been making enquiries about him. It seems that his first marriage was a happy one; he was considered a dutiful and attentive husband and a good father to his children. He’s also an upright and honorable man. The men under his command think very highly of him. I am sure you will grow to love him in time.”
“If the king gives his permission for the match.” It was the last argument Janna could muster. “I suspect the bishop has told him of my role in intercepting his message and taking it to Robert of Gloucestre. And I also think the king suspects what really happened on the night the empress made her escape from Oxeneford.”
“You may well be right.” John was silent for a time as he mulled over Janna’s words. “But suspicion is one thing, proof quite another, and he has none. Besides, he is my cousin. I have known him since childhood and I am confident he will do as I ask, especially if he thinks he can buy my loyalty that way. You must reconcile yourself to marriage with William, Johanna. He will protect you and your estates here in England, and I am sure he will prove an attentive and loving consort. You will grow to care for him in time, even if you cannot believe that now.”
Never! But Janna kept her thoughts to herself, knowing that further argument was useless. It seemed that her future was assured. That it was not to her liking was not important, for she had no say in the matter, none at all.
That night she lay awake, tossing and restless in her narrow bed in the guest quarters of the abbey. She heard the great bell of the abbey chime to wake the nuns for their devotions, and pictured them rousing from their beds, half asleep and yawning, donning their slippers and filing into the church for Matins and Lauds. She was of half a mind to join them, in the hope that quiet communion with God might help her find some measure of peace. She sat up and swiveled her feet to the floor, but paused as she heard a patter of footsteps and a sudden urgent knock on her door.
“Yes? What is it?” she called, and fumbled for the tinder box and candle beside her bed.
“Please, my lady, can you come quickly?” A dark shape stood at the door, panting and distressed.
“What’s the trouble?”
“It’s Agnes, my lady. Her time has come, but the baby…the baby…” The high, girlish voice faltered into silence. After a few strikes at the tinder box, Janna had succeeded in lighting the candle. Now she held it aloft and recognized Susanna, the bailiff’s daughter from his first marriage. Distraught and disheveled, forgetting propriety in her distress, she tugged at Janna’s arm. “Agnes asked me to fetch you. Please make haste,” she implored.
Together they hurried through the abbey gates to the home farm where the bailiff had his residence. Even as she ran beside the girl, Janna berated herself for not thinking to alert Sister Anne to the problem, or even to ask the infirmarian for any medicaments she might need. Her steps faltered as she faced the enormity of what she was about to do: assist a woman in a difficult childbirth when she had no idea what that entailed. True, she’d attended births with her mother in the past, but on those occasions, Janna had merely observed while her mother did all that was required.
“Hurry, my lady!” the girl urged her on. But Janna stood still, knowing there were others more suited to the task this night, even though it hurt her pride to admit it.
“Go back to the a
bbey,” she told Susanna. “Ask for Mistress Aldith, the midwife, and bid her come with you to your stepmother. But first explain the problem to her, and also tell her that the infirmarian, Sister Anne, will give her all the medicaments she might need. Say that you have spoken to me and these are my instructions.”
“But Agnes asked for you, my lady.”
“And I shall go to her. But you must go back and find Mistress Aldith. Hurry, Susanna. Run!”
Pausing only long enough to ensure that the girl was doing as she was bid, Janna hastened on to the bailiff’s cottage. She found Master Will outside, sweating and anxious as he paced about. His children huddled around him, pasty faced and frightened as they listened to the moans and cries coming from within. Janna knew the bailiff’s first wife had died of sickness after childbirth, and she understood their fear. She bid him a swift good evening and rushed inside to find her friend.
Agnes was in great distress, shuddering and groaning as she doubled over with the pains of giving birth. One of the local women was with her, but seemed incapable of any action other than wringing her hands and fluttering about the bed.
Janna pushed her aside. “Bring me some warmed oil, and make sure there’s plenty of clean linen,” she said, and leaned over Agnes.
“Janna! Thank God you’ve come,” Agnes panted, quieting momentarily as she grabbed Janna’s hand in relief. “Please, help me,” she begged. Her body convulsed in another contraction and she moaned piteously as she strained to push the baby out.
“How long has this been going on?” Janna withdrew her hand and parted Agnes’s thighs, hoping that the baby’s head was visible. But there was no sign of it.
“Hours.” Tears leaked into Agnes’s eyes as the contraction passed and her body relaxed in a brief respite. “I push…and push…but the baby won’t come.”
Janna tried to hide her concern. She knew enough to understand that babies were supposed to present head first down the birth canal, and that complications and even death could occur if, for some reason, they did not. Her mother had used warm oil to massage the woman’s stomach in an effort to turn the baby around if there was a problem, but Janna had never done such a thing before. She stared at Agnes’s bloated belly. She was sure that if she went about it the wrong way, she might make matters worse. She shuddered as she recalled one birth she had witnessed. The baby had been born dead, with the birth cord wrapped around its neck.
She cursed her lack of knowledge as she took hold of her friend’s hand and held it tight. “I think the baby is in the wrong position to come,” she said steadily, “but I have sent for Aldith, the midwife. She will know what to do.”
“No!” Agnes reared up in alarm. “I will not have her!”
“You have nothing to fear.” Janna pushed her gently back onto the bed. “Aldith has learned much while I’ve been away. She tended my wound after I was stabbed, and I could not fault her care.”
“Stabbed?” Agnes reared up once more, her own troubles temporarily forgotten. “In God’s name, Janna, what happened to you? Are you all right?”
“Yes, no lasting harm,” Janna reassured her. She seized the basin of warm oil from the fluttering attendant and began to gently massage her friend’s swollen stomach, not attempting to turn the baby but hoping merely to calm her and bring some relief until Aldith arrived. “The attack marks the end of a long story, Agnes, but my quest to bring a killer to justice is complete and the culprit will be tried at the abbess’s court soon enough.”
“Tell me all about it. It might take my mind off my travail.” Agnes subsided back on to the bed. “I’m not going anywhere in a hurry,” she added, with a weak smile.
Janna was nearing the end of her recital when she heard the sound of voices coming closer. Breathing a sigh of relief, for she was becoming increasingly alarmed by Agnes’s weakening state, she threw open the door to welcome in not only Aldith but also Sister Anne.
“I need your help,” she admitted, but Aldith had already thrust a bag into her arms and extracted a small phial of oil from it. Janna and Sister Anne exchanged glances, ruefully acknowledging their lack of experience when it came down to this most basic of human activities. After carefully washing her hands in a basin of clean water and drying them on a cloth, Aldith applied a dab of the oil, which smelt faintly of roses. With her eyes closed, she began to palpate Agnes’s stomach almost as if trying to determine the shape of what lay inside. Finally she gave a small grunt and turned her attention to the birth canal, feeling inside Agnes with a deft, slippery hand. Janna watched closely, for she needed to remedy this gap in her knowledge. It was vital to know all she could about childbirth if she was to achieve her dream for the future.
“The baby’s lying in the wrong position,” Aldith commented at last. “I’m hoping it hasn’t moved too far down into the birth canal and that I may still be able to turn it.”
Janna nodded, taking some comfort from the fact that at least she’d diagnosed the problem correctly. But she remembered enough from the past to know that Agnes would be in real trouble if Aldith couldn’t turn the child. The midwife washed and dried her hands once more, and again smoothed them over with oil. Then she placed her hands on Agnes’s distended stomach and began to push and rotate, just as Janna remembered her mother doing in the past.
“Janna, there’s mugwort and birthwort in my bag. Mix the mugwort with warm ale and give it to Agnes to drink,” Aldith instructed, as her hands moved rhythmically. “Mix the birthwort with wine – or ale if there is none. The drink will help the afterbirth to come away after the baby is born.”
Aldith’s confidence and her calm instructions, plus having something to do, helped give Janna heart. Looking at her friend, she could see that Agnes seemed calmer, until she was shaken by another contraction.
“Try not to push! Not yet,” Aldith said sharply. “Take long, deep breaths and say a prayer to our Lord for the safe birth of your babe.”
Sister Anne began to pray, and after a few moments Agnes joined in, her words punctuated by her labored breaths and choked-back moans. Janna returned to the bed. She raised Agnes’s head so that she could drink the concoction, and Agnes gulped it down gratefully. Needing something else to do to take her mind off her fears, Janna fetched a basin of cool water and began to bathe her friend’s face. She had an awful feeling that time was running out for Agnes, who was growing visibly weaker.
“If it comes feet first there’s a chance both mother and baby will survive, but if its bottom is stuck…” Aldith shook her head, although her busy hands did not break their rhythm.
“You could cut me open to save the baby.” Agnes’s whisper broke the silence that had followed Aldith’s pronouncement.
“No!” Janna knew that such a procedure spelled danger for the baby and certain death for the mother.
“We’re nowhere near having to do that yet,” Aldith soothed. Her careful hands, massaging and pushing, told Janna that she was not going to give up without a fight.
“Are you sure you’re not harming the baby?” Agnes asked fretfully. “I’ve got an awful squirming feeling inside.”
For a moment Aldith relaxed and a smile lit her grim features. “That’s good. It means the baby’s turning,” she said, and bent to her task once more. Agnes’s breathing was growing more ragged. Her face showed the strain she was under, while her lips were bitten raw. Finally she could not hold on any longer.
“Aarghh!” Her whole body convulsed in a violent contraction.
“Push!” Aldith shouted. Her hands were still busy but now had changed direction, pressing downward, pushing, pushing, helping Agnes to push the baby out.
“Aarghh!” Agnes screamed again. Janna caught her breath and resolved that she would never, ever have a child, not if it meant going through this. And yet, when the birth finally happened, it happened so quickly that afterward it just seemed like a blur of sound and movement. The crown of the baby’s head emerged, blood staining Aldith’s hands as she gently held and supported
its weight, until the whole body was suddenly expelled in a rush. They huddled around for an anxious inspection of the inert blue form while Aldith quickly tied the birth cord and clipped it.
“It’s a little girl.” Aldith blew up the baby’s nose and put her finger in its mouth to clear out the air passages. Then she turned the baby over and gave its bottom a hearty smack.
“No!” Agnes’s wail of protest was caught short as they all heard an indrawn breath followed by a thin, quavering cry. By now, tears were coursing down Janna’s cheeks. She glanced at Agnes, whose cheeks were as wet but whose smile equaled the brightness of a thousand suns. The new mother stretched out her arms to take the child from Aldith, and cuddled it to her breast, while her tears dripped onto the child’s bloodied head.
“Johanna.” Agnes smiled up at Janna, and then reached a hand in gratitude to the midwife. “Johanna Aldith.”
Chapter 10
The abbess’s court was finally convened some days later. It was held in the chapter house where, by custom, the abbey sisters met every morning for prayers and to discuss matters pertaining to the abbey. Now only the most senior members of the convent were present, but still the room was crowded. Most of those present were witnesses both for and against Robert of Babestoche, but there were also men of prominence from the town. Although she knew the evidence against him was overwhelming, Janna felt her heart speed up as she entered the court, flanked by her father and Richildis. Facing them across the room was Robert, looking proud and defiant. Amy sat close beside him. All her fine airs were gone now; she seemed cowed and frightened as she huddled into herself.
Dame Alice sat on her own, face turned away from her husband. The dame’s head was tilted at a proud angle; it was difficult to read the expression on her face. Janna wondered if she would give evidence on his behalf or against him.
The abbess swept in through the door, and those inside the room surged to their feet and waited for her to be seated. But she did not take the high chair at the center. Instead, she stood beside it until the king entered some moments later and seated himself, a wave of his hand indicating that everyone else might now sit down. There was a murmuring buzz until the abbess held up her hands, after which an expectant hush fell over the room.
Day of Judgment: The Janna Chronicles 6 Page 20