Speechless, Janna stared at the earl. She was hardly able to comprehend her good fortune, but Godric recognized it immediately. “It was Johanna’s father’s wish, and the king’s too, that she marry William of Marsford,” he said soberly.
“What?” Janna found her voice at last, but before she could say anything further, Godric continued.
“It would be a good match for Johanna, my lord, begging your pardon for the interruption. I understand Sire William has property and wealth as well as the king’s favor. Janna would be well provided for, and I am sure the baron would take her willingly if she can bring your gift to the marriage.”
“No! I will not take him!” Furious, Janna faced Godric. “How could you even suggest such a thing?” she shouted. “You promised to marry me! You cannot refuse me now!” Ignoring the earl, the abbess, and her family, all of whom were watching the scene with great interest, Janna grabbed Godric’s arm. “You said you loved me.” Her voice shook, betraying her agony. “How can you pretend that’s not true?”
“Of course it’s true,” Godric said roughly. “I’m thinking of your happiness, your prospects for the future, that’s what I’m doing. William of Marsford can offer you a great deal more than I can.”
“But I don’t want William, and I won’t have him! I want you!”
“You love each other, am I correct?” The earl’s cool tones interrupted their argument. Godric and Janna swung around to face him. They nodded in unison.
“Then I give you my blessing, for I know only too well the misery of a loveless match. And young man,” he continued, before Godric could contradict him, “you’ll find that the property I’ve mentioned will bring in a good income if you manage it well. You’ll want for nothing in the future, I shall make sure of it. And I shall send a messenger to my half-sister informing her of my intention, so that no-one here present will dare to gainsay my wishes.” He fixed Blanche with his steely stare once more.
“Thank you, my lord.” Janna seized the earl’s hand and kissed it, knowing at last that her happiness was assured, and her future with it. “My heart is full.”
“You are a courageous young woman, Johanna, and I think the debt is all on our side.” The earl smiled as he rose to his feet.
“A moment, my lord, if you please.” Blanche’s sharp voice halted the earl’s departure. “I beg your leave to take my husband’s body back to Normandy without delay, if you would be so good as to provide me with an escort to the nearest port.”
“No!” Janna’s cry was instinctive, but thought quickly followed to bolster her opposition to Blanche’s request. It was insupportable that Blanche and her family should lie beside her father when their time came, rather than that he should be buried beside his one true love.
The earl turned to her with an enquiring lift of his eyebrow. Janna made a hasty attempt to order her thoughts, to give him an explanation sufficient to override Blanche’s wishes.
“My father loved my mother,” she said steadily, “and my mother loved him in return. They were separated in life. Please, let them lie together here, at Wiltune Abbey.”
Blanche made an angry gesture and opened her mouth to object. But the earl silenced her with an upraised hand, giving Janna a chance to tell him something of her mother and father’s relationship and what had transpired to keep them apart. “They loved each other all their lives,” she concluded.
A further thought bolstered her argument. “Besides, it’s a long journey to Normandy. My father’s body will be in an advanced state of decay by the end of it.” She remembered once seeing a corpse being pushed in a cart. The smell of it had attracted a large following of hounds that jostled each other as they tried to jump up into the cart. She shuddered with horror, knowing that the alternative was to boil away the flesh from her father’s bones before transporting him. She could not bear to think of either course of action.
“Please,” she begged, “please save him that indignity and consent to his burial here, so that he and my mother may be united in death as they never were in life.”
“It seems like a very good idea to me.” The earl looked at the abbess, who nodded slowly. Perhaps her decision was based on a recognition of the truth of Janna’s words, or perhaps it was more to do with the thought that the king had been routed, the earl’s men were now in control of the abbey, and Blanche and her family would soon return to Normandy. Whatever her reasoning, Janna didn’t care. All that mattered was that she’d got her own way in this, the last service she could do for her father.
Epilogue
The manor and its surrounding lands were everything the earl had promised and more, Janna thought with contentment as she looked about her at the comfortable solar. She stood up and moved to the window, seeking signs of Godric. He was out in the fields, for once again it was summer and there was much to do before the harvest could be brought in. Green fields of wheat had turned to gold; there would be a good crop for the picking, sufficient to feed them, the reeve, and all the families in their care, those serfs who tilled these fields as well as their own, and for whose health and livelihood she and Godric were now responsible. In the distance she could see the white woolly dots of sheep that had also come with their new demesne. They’d already received a good income from their first wool clip. She sighed with pleasure as she thought of how far she and Godric had come over the past year.
Her father’s funeral had been dreadful, made worse by the histrionics of Richildis and the stinging hatred of all John’s family. But the earl had stood by Janna, as had the abbess, to carry out her wishes to have her father buried beside her mother. More than ever had she appreciated the solid strength of Godric through that difficult time.
But then had come her marriage to Godric, the exchange of their vows at the door of the abbey’s church, witnessed by Agnes and all the friends she had made both at Wiltune and from her old home. Even Dame Alice had been there, attended by Hugh. Eleanor had not come. Nor had Blanche and her family. Having set a steward in place at the manor house in Winchestre to establish ownership, they’d wasted no time in leaving for Normandy after the funeral, perhaps hoping to catch the sympathetic ear of Count Geoffrey before the Earl of Gloucestre could have his say. All of which worried Janna not a jot, for she would rather have been surrounded only by those who loved her and wished her well. The only one of them she missed was Rosy, but she had secured the girl’s promise, in secret, that as soon as she was old enough she would return to England to visit Janna.
“You once asked me to teach you about herbs and healing,” Janna had reminded her, and Rosy had nodded eagerly. “I shall teach you all I know, if you’ve still a mind to learn when you are grown.” And if you need to escape from your mother. Richildis would soon be wed. Janna wished her new husband all the luck he would need to manage his willful wife. After that, Rosy would be left at Blanche’s mercy. But Rosy was strong-willed and knew her own mind. Janna would help her if she could.
“I will come, I promise,” Rosy had told her, leaning forward to confide softly, “I don’t want to grow up like Richildis, Johanna. I would rather grow up to be just like you.”
Janna had been touched by the child’s faith in her capacity to bestow happiness, and also encouraged by Rosy’s assessment of her sister. It augured well for her future. And she would have much to offer Rosy when she came.
Janna’s mouth curved into a smile as she reflected upon what else had been achieved during their first year at the new manor. While Godric had taken all he had learned during his time with Hugh and brought his skills in management to bear on the property now under his control, Janna had set her dream for the future in motion. Her first step had been to plant a large herb garden, with herbs for healing as well as for cooking and for use about the house.
Once that was done, she had asked Aldith to come and stay with her, using that time to teach the midwife all she’d learned from her mother and also from Sister Anne at the abbey. In return, she’d asked Aldith to instruct her in the
care of pregnant women and what to do in childbirth, particularly if there were difficulties. She asked for instruction on the care of ailing babies and young children as well, for none of these things had played a part in the daily rounds of the abbey, while her own mother had kept her largely ignorant, preferring to deal with such things herself.
It had been satisfying and beneficial to them both, Janna thought, as she reviewed with satisfaction the newly built hospitium beside the manor which was already in use, being visited by those who were sick and in need of care and treatment. Even more satisfying was the knowledge that she had already helped several children into the world, with another due imminently.
“I have something for you.” The counting of her blessings was interrupted as Godric entered the room. He gingerly carried a small sack, which writhed and shifted in shape as if there were a dozen rats inside. He held it out to her, but with her mind full of the vermin it might contain, Janna hesitated to take it.
“You’ll like it,” Godric reassured her, with a smile. So she took the sack from him and cautiously opened it.
“Oh!” She drew out a small black kitten, which lashed out with sharp claws and bit her finger in fright. “Shh,” she soothed, and tucked it into the crook of her arm, keeping it safe and snug while she gently stroked its furry head and tickled its ears. Gradually its frightened mewing quietened into a soft, rumbling purr.
“I shall call it Alfred.” Janna smiled her thanks at Godric. He cast his eyes upward in disapproval, and she knew they were both remembering the dreadful fate of the stray cat she’d once taken in and tamed.
“Call it Fluffy,” he suggested. “You can name our son Alfred instead, if you wish.”
Janna stroked her swollen belly with a contented smile. “What if it’s a girl?”
“Then we shall try for a son next time.” Godric’s hand folded over hers, resting on her stomach in a blessing for the child growing within.
“I shall look forward to it,” Janna said demurely, and laughed in delight as she noted a spark of desire ignite in his eyes. She drew him closer, as close as her bulging belly would allow, and sealed her promise with a loving kiss.
Glossary
Alehouse: Ale was a common drink in the middle ages. Housewives brewed their own for domestic use, while alewives brewed the ale served in alehouses and taverns. A bush tied to a pole was the recognized symbol of an alehouse, at a time when most of the population could not read.
Amor vincit omnia: Love conquers all.
Baron: A noble of high rank, a tenant-in-chief who holds his lands from the king.
Besom: A broom made of twigs.
Breeches: Trousers held up by a cord running through the hem at the waist.
Chapman: Peddler.
Cresset: A primitive light made from a wick floating in a bowl of oil or animal fat.
Currency: While large sums of money could be reckoned in pounds or marks, the actual currency for trading was silver pennies. There were twelve to a shilling and twenty shillings to a pound. A penny could also be cut into half, called a “ha’penny,” or a quarter, called a “farthing.”
Feudal system: A political, social and economic system based on the relationship of lord to vassal, in which land was held on condition of homage and service. Following the Norman conquest, William I distributed land once owned by Saxon “ealdormen” (chief men) to his own barons, who in turn distributed land and manors to sub-tenants in return for fees, knight service and, in the case of the villeins, work in the fields. The Abbess of Wilton held an entire barony from the king and owed the service of five knights in return.
Infirmarian: Takes care of the sick in the infirmary (abbey hospital).
Motte and bailey castle: Earth mound with wooden or stone keep (tower) on top, plus an enclosure or courtyard, all of it surrounded and protected by a ditch and palisade (fence).
Scrip: A small bag.
Scriptorium: A room in a monastery (or abbey) where monks (or nuns) wrote, copied and illuminated manuscripts. In a private home it served as the office of the estate.
Solar: A private room where the lord could retire with his family or entertain his friends.
Steward: Appointed by a baron to manage an estate.
Tiring woman: A female attendant on a lady of high birth and importance.
Villein: Peasant or serf tied to a manor and to an overlord, and given land in return for labor and a fee – either money or produce.
Wortwyf: A herb wife, a wise woman and healer.
Author’s Note
1141 AD was a crucial year for the Empress Matilda; it was that year she came closest to winning the crown from her cousin, King Stephen. The king was taken prisoner following the Battle of Lincoln in February. Barons and bishops then swore allegiance to the empress, and she began her progress to London for her coronation. But King Stephen’s queen (also called Matilda) had not given up on the king’s behalf. She mustered the Londoners and besieged the palace at Westminster, forcing the empress to flee. There is some question as to whether Henry of Blois, Bishop of Winchester and King Stephen’s brother, ever switched his support to the empress during this time (even though he officially recognized her claim) or whether he stayed loyal to his brother.
It is certain that, by September, the bishop was actively supporting the king once more. While the queen’s troops blockaded Winchester, preventing any supplies from reaching either the empress’s army or the townsfolk, the bishop had fortified the old Anglo-Saxon palace in the heart of Winchester. The bishop’s firebrands destroyed St Mary’s Abbey (the Nunnaminster), St Hyde’s Abbey, and “completely reduced to ashes the greater part of the town.” (Gesta Stephani)
The empress was forced to flee, while her ever-faithful half-brother Robert, Earl of Gloucester, fought on and was finally captured at Stockbridge. When it became clear that the earl would neither change allegiance nor yield to threats, a complicated arrangement was put in place for the exchange of the prisoners. By the end of 1141, Stephen was back on the throne.
The king was taken ill in the early part of 1142 and for a time was not expected to live. Believing it safe to do so, the Earl of Gloucester went to Anjou to persuade the empress’s husband, Geoffrey, to bring troops over to England to help secure her bid for the throne. Instead, Geoffrey kept the earl in Normandy, promising to come to England once he’d brought all Normandy under his aegis. In fact, this proved crucial later on, for many of the barons who supported Stephen in England also had land and possessions in Normandy, and were aghast when these were lost by the king. Stephen, meanwhile, had recovered his health. He began to secure all ports against the earl’s return to England, after which he besieged Oxford and surrounded the castle, holding the empress prisoner there.
The earl managed to land at Wareham and recapture the harbor and castle, after which he began to fight his way north to Oxford. But the empress and her entourage were nearing starvation and could wait no longer. It is quite true that the empress and a small escort, dressed in white capes for camouflage, escaped across the ice and walked across fields to safety, although accounts vary as to whether she escaped through a postern gate or was lowered down a rope from the tower. I wouldn’t have dared make up such a story, but I did take the liberty of having Janna come to the empress’s aid and act as a decoy – for there is some question as to how the empress managed to evade Stephen’s troops while she made her escape. It’s been suggested that they were so battle weary and keen to go home they might even have turned a blind eye. My version is much more exciting!
In 1143, and with much of the West Country favoring the empress, Stephen made his headquarters in Wilton, fortifying the abbey there with the intention of capturing Sarum (Sarisberie). The earl forestalled him and, on the evening of July 1st, his troops overran and fired Wilton. The king managed to escape the siege, and thereafter the earl secured the loyalty of the West Country. By now, the empress had given up on her own behalf and was claiming the throne for her son, Henry. The civil w
ar (or “Anarchy” as it is sometimes known) continued sporadically for another ten years, until a deal was finally agreed after the death of Stephen’s son, Eustace, that the king would officially recognize Henry as his heir.
Henry was duly crowned in 1154, following the death of Stephen. As Henry II he went on to marry Eleanor of Aquitaine and raise several sons, two of whom became kings: Richard and John.
Some of the more important accounts I have used while researching the history on which the Janna Chronicles are based include the Gesta Stephani, William of Malmesbury’s Historia Novella, The Empress Matilda by Marjorie Chibnall, King Stephen by R.H.C. Davis, and The Reign of King Stephen by David Crouch.
While writing medieval England from Australia is a difficult and hazardous enterprise, I have been fortunate in the support and encouragement I’ve received along the way. So many people have helped make this series possible, and in particular I’d like to thank the following: Nick and Wendy Combes of Burcombe Manor, for taking me into their family, giving me a home away from home and teaching me about life on a farm, both now and in medieval time. Dr Gillian Polack, whose knowledge of medieval life helped shape the series and gave it veracity. Thanks also to my fantastic editor, Kylie Mason, and to all at Momentum for their thought, care and expertise, and for enabling me to introduce the Janna Chronicles to a whole new audience.
Day of Judgment: The Janna Chronicles 6 Page 24