Janna Mysteries 1 & 2 Bindup Page 17

  Cecily carefully wiped away her tears, gave a mournful sniff, and walked off in the direction of the kitchen. Janna watched her go. All her instincts told her that she could trust Cecily, yet the tiring woman had given her no proof that she was innocent, nor could she. She and Eadgyth had been alone in the cottage. Anything might have taken place between them. All Janna knew for certain was that her mother did not die by her own hand.

  The manor seemed hushed and still, drowsy in the mid-afternoon sun. It was past dinner-time and Janna’s stomach growled with hunger. She debated going home, back to the cottage, for her questions were all done. Her spirits drooped at the thought. She could not give up, not yet.

  Surely the answers must lie here, at the manor house, where her mother had spent her last hours. If only she knew who to speak to, and where to look! While she pondered her next move, Janna walked to the well. She could slake her thirst, if not her hunger.

  The cool water refreshed her. She sat down on a bench beside the well, and closed her eyes, the better to focus on the events surrounding her mother’s death. Lifting her face to the sun, she felt its warmth enter her body, giving new life and hope to her exhausted spirit.

  The sound of a warning cry interrupted her musing. She opened her eyes, and saw an elderly woman and a little boy coming towards her. The child ran ahead, ignoring his nurse’s shout to slow down. He was all smiles as he raced up to Janna.

  ‘My name is Hamo,’ he announced. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Janna.’ The child had the look of his mother along with the dark Norman colouring of both his parents. He was only six or seven now, but he would grow up to be a heartbreaker, Janna thought.

  ‘Who are you?’ Hamo eyed Janna’s coarsely woven kirtle and rough boots curiously. Her appearance seemed not to faze him, however, for he remained smiling and friendly as he asked, ‘Are you a friend of my mother and father? Or my cousin Hugh?’

  ‘None of them.’

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘I came to help your baby brother. I tried to make him better.’ Janna found it hard to tell a lie or even to soften the truth under the direct and trusting gaze of the child.

  ‘My brother died. There’s only me left now,’ he answered matter-of-factly.

  ‘I know. I am sorry for it.’

  Hamo studied her. ‘It’s just as well,’ he said candidly. ‘My brother would have to be a soldier and go to war or enter the church for a living, for all my mother’s property and wealth will be mine when she dies. I am the first-born son, you see.’

  ‘What about your father? Will you inherit his lands and wealth too?’

  ‘No, he’s got nothing to leave anyone. All this belongs to my mother.’

  Janna stared at Hamo in amazement. She had paid homage to Robert of Babestoche, as was his due as lord of the manor. Yet it seemed he had married well, far better than he might have expected, in fact. Still, it made no odds whose wealth it was, except perhaps to this precocious child and any future siblings he might have. On reflection, Janna concluded this was unlikely given the lady’s sad history. It seemed Hamo’s inheritance was safe. She wished him joy of it.

  Hamo’s nurse had caught up with him and now she gave him a reproving glance. ‘You will not indulge in idle chatter with servants,’ she said sternly.

  ‘I want Janna to play ball with me.’ Hamo looked quite unrepentant.

  ‘You do not play ball while you are in mourning for your brother.’

  ‘How can I feel sad about my brother when I didn’t even know him?’

  ‘You will do what is expected of you.’

  ‘But I want to play ball.’ Hamo stamped his foot.

  ‘’Tis too late now. I will play ball with you tomorrow.’ The nurse cast a glance towards the sun, perhaps praying for nightfall. The fiery orb was past its zenith, was edging down to the west, tinting fluffy lambswool clouds with a rim of bright gold. Janna judged that there was still plenty of time for a game of ball. She winked at Hamo and he, delighted, grinned back at her.

  ‘I don’t want to play ball with you,’ he told the nurse. ‘You’re too old. You never catch it and you won’t run after it either.’ He turned to Janna. ‘Will you play ball with me?’ he pleaded.

  She glanced at the nurse, seeking permission. The woman shrugged, clearly unwilling to take responsibility for an activity she deemed unseemly. Yet Janna thought she might be quite pleased to have a break from her demanding charge for a while. The woman was getting on in years. Truly, she looked utterly exhausted.

  ‘Do you have a ball?’ she asked Hamo, wondering if a Norman child would also play with a pig’s bladder stuffed with straw, as the street urchins did.

  ‘Yes!’ With a squeal of excitement he dashed off to find it, leaving Janna confronting his nurse.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she said softly. ‘I am sure the boy truly appreciates your company and is grateful for your care of him.’

  ‘He is too bright for his own good.’ The nurse looked sour. Janna felt sorry for Hamo. Surely brightness was to be encouraged rather than frowned upon? But he would escape his nurse soon enough, for in only a few years he would likely be sent away to another manor house, or perhaps a lord’s castle or even the abbey. He would learn to read and write, how to fight and how to serve the king. Janna envied Hamo for the wealth and freedom that would let him do exactly as he pleased in the future.

  ‘Catch!’ Hamo had returned, and now he threw a ball at her, its flight swift and true and finding its mark hard against her belly.

  ‘Oof!’ Winded, Janna fumbled to catch it, but the ball fell at her feet. It was made of leather and, by the sound of the rattle inside, it was stuffed with dried peas or beans. It was round enough to fly through the air and to roll a distance should she miss catching it. She would have to watch it more carefully next time.

  ‘Catch!’ she cried in turn as she copied his motion and sent the ball flying back to Hamo.

  He caught it, and in one movement sent it hurtling back to her. It was a little high and Janna had to jump for it. She missed, and the ball went flying onwards. With a chuckle, she picked up her skirt and chased it.

  ‘Catch!’ Her throw was clumsy, and the ball went off to one side. Quick as a flash, Hamo went after it, diving to catch it before it hit the ground.

  ‘Well done!’ Janna clapped her hands together, and Hamo looked pleased. Janna thought he might not get too many compliments, especially not from his crabby nurse. He didn’t let this one turn his head though, sending the ball straight and true towards Janna once more.

  Again she fumbled and missed, and again she had to chase it. She bent to pick up the ball. A pair of boots planted themselves in front of her. Panting and out of breath, she straightened. Her gaze moved upwards and she found herself staring into a smiling face and dancing eyes.

  Hugh.

  JANNA BLUSHED AS she hastily tried to straighten her kirtle and smooth her hair. What must he think of her, rushing about like a street urchin? This thought was followed hard by another: Hugh already knew what she was. Why should a ball game with a child make any difference to his opinion of her?

  ‘I thought I’d come and keep my cousin company for a while, but I see he’s in good company already.’ Without asking permission, Hugh took the ball from Janna and threw it back to Hamo. ‘Catch!’ he cried.

  With a squeal of excitement, Hamo leapt into the air and caught the ball with both hands.

  ‘Well done!’ Hugh exchanged an amused glance with Janna as they both clapped the boy’s efforts. Hamo smiled, suddenly shy. He put the ball behind his back, and began to scuff the earth beneath his feet.

  ‘Don’t you want to play any more?’ Hugh challenged him.

  A great beaming smile spread over Hamo’s face. ‘Yes!’ And before Hugh could change his mind, the ball sped like an arrow towards him. Deftly, Hugh caught it and returned it, while Janna retreated to safety. The ball seemed to have become a deadly missile in the hands of Hamo and Hugh. As she watched
the two exchange banter while each tried to out-throw the other, she reflected on how lonely the boy’s life must be here at the manor, with only a crotchety old nurse to care for him. The company of a cousin must seem like a gift to him.

  As Hugh’s company was a gift to her, Janna acknowledged. Now she was seeing a side of him she had not expected. He was showing the heart of the child he once was, evidenced by the loud crow of glee he uttered when he threw a carefully angled ball just a little too high and Hamo missed it. The child scampered after it, seemingly unperturbed until he sent back a return, so low and so fast that Hugh fumbled and dropped the ball. Now it was Hamo’s turn to chuckle and taunt Hugh for the butterfingers that had let the ball slip through his grasp.

  Janna joined in their laughter, and was surprised. She’d thought she’d never feel happy again. It was reassuring to think that life could go on and that joy was still possible.

  She watched the two together, man and boy, united in their enjoyment of their game. Hamo had a mother and father, but what about Hugh? It seemed he had no lands of his own, for he’d told her he’d come to make a report on his custodianship of Dame Alice’s property. Janna surveyed him thoughtfully. Was Dame Alice his only living kin, and was Hamo all that kept Hugh from a large inheritance? Certain it was that with so much at stake, Hugh would desire his aunt’s good opinion above everything, and would do all in his power to keep it, even if it meant keeping his relationship with Cecily a secret. There came into Janna’s mind then the question she most dreaded: how far would he go to keep their secret safe? Yet there were no grounds for suspecting him for, on his own admission, Eadgyth was already dying by the time he and Robert were summoned to the bedchamber. She was jumping to conclusions about Hugh and Cecily, conclusions that might be utterly false, Janna warned herself, finding comfort in the notion.

  A sudden howl interrupted her reverie. She looked up to see Hugh sprinting towards Hamo, who was clutching the side of his face and trying not to cry. Suddenly the lethal missile-thrower was but a little boy again. The red welt on the side of his face spoke of what had happened even as Hugh broke into an apology.

  ‘It’s my fault,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Hamo. I shouldn’t have thrown the ball so hard. After all, you’re just a child.’ A forlorn hiccup greeted this tactless observation. Ignoring the outraged clucking of the nurse, Janna pulled a reproachful face at Hugh over Hamo’s head and enfolded the boy into her arms to comfort him.

  ‘Of course, you’re so big for your age, and you throw the ball so well, it’s not surprising I thought you were a lot older than you really are,’ Hugh added hastily, doing his best to retrieve the situation.

  ‘Everyone says I’m big for my age.’ Hamo broke away from Janna and squared his shoulders as he faced Hugh. ‘I’ve been riding with the groom and practising with my own sword every day so that I shall grow up to be a fine soldier like you.’

  ‘I expect you’ll be a far greater soldier than I’ll ever be,’ said Hugh, and earned a watery smile for the compliment.

  ‘I knew this would end in tears,’ the nurse muttered darkly, and tried to take hold of her charge. Hamo backed away and hid behind Hugh.

  ‘Would you like to come with me to the kitchen garden, Hamo?’ Janna asked. ‘We’ll crush a comfrey root to soothe that sore swelling on your face where the ball hit you.’

  He nodded, and slipped his hand into hers. As they began to walk towards the garden, Hugh fell into step beside them. Wearing a frown of disapproval, the nurse followed.

  ‘How is Dame Alice faring, my lord?’ Janna broke the companionable silence that had fallen between them.

  ‘We have left her to rest.’

  ‘And Mistress Cecily?’ Janna watched Hugh closely for any sign that she meant more to him than merely being his aunt’s tiring woman. ‘Is she now recovered from whatever ailed her?’

  ‘She’s doing well enough,’ Hugh said casually, seeming not at all troubled by the question. Instead, there was warmth and concern in his voice as he asked, ‘And what of you, Johanna? How do you fare, with so much to burden you?’

  The sudden thunder of hoof beats prevented Janna from having to answer. Hugh quickly scooped up Hamo and sprang aside to safety. Janna looked up at the horseman, and felt a shaft of anxiety as she recognised the lord of the manor. For one fearful moment she thought Robert was going to run her down. She leapt out of his path, landing awkwardly and wrenching her ankle as she did so. Robert jerked on the reins, forcing his horse to a sudden standstill. His eyes were hard and angry as he stared down at her. ‘Why are you still here? I told you to go home before you do any more harm, and I’ll thank you to do as you’re told.’ His glance flicked from Janna to her companion. Ignoring the child clasped in Hugh’s arms, he said, ‘Make sure the girl leaves the manor at once.’ He dug his heels viciously into the horse’s flank. Startled, it reared and then took off at speed.

  Behind Robert, riding more decorously, came the priest. He nodded at Hugh and Hamo, but could not hide his displeasure at the sight of Hugh’s companion. Compressing his lips, he followed Robert out through the gate.

  Hugh put Hamo down when he judged it was safe to do so. The boy looked indignant. ‘I’m not a baby, you know!’

  ‘I know, Hamo, but I wasn’t sure your father had noticed you. I didn’t want him to run you down.’ There was a steely glint in Hugh’s eye as he looked after Robert and the priest, but his expression softened as his glance shifted to Janna. He seemed to be making an effort to hold himself in check. Janna wondered if he was working out how best to follow Robert’s orders to get rid of her. She decided to help him out.

  ‘My lord,’ she said, ‘I must go home, as I’ve been told.’

  ‘No. Stay and find a balm for Hamo’s cheek, I pray you.’ Hugh gave a rueful laugh. ‘I fear I will feel the lash of his mother’s tongue for hurting him, but at least I will be able to say we did what we could to ease the pain.’

  Janna nodded, encouraged by his confidence that she would be able to help. Child of the forest she may be, but she was not so ignorant as he might suppose. ‘Where do my lord Robert and the priest go so late in the afternoon?’

  ‘The priest has gone to make arrangements for the baby’s interment and to instruct the villagers to attend a requiem mass for the child’s soul. My aunt wishes it.’

  ‘And my lord Robert?’

  Hugh shrugged. ‘Perhaps he needs to report the baby’s death to the shire reeve.’

  ‘Why does he hate me so?’

  ‘Who? Robert, or the priest? Or the shire reeve?’

  ‘My lord Robert. My mother and I did all we could to help Dame Alice and her infant son. Dame Alice understands that and is grateful, but my lord Robert has turned against me.’

  Hugh was silent for a moment. ‘He blames you for his son’s death,’ he admitted at last.

  ‘But I … but we …’

  Hugh held up his hand to silence her protest. ‘I know,’ he said simply. ‘I know.’

  Once in the garden, Janna looked about for the hairy leaves and stalks of comfrey. She was certain such a useful plant would be cultivated here and she soon found it, and in some quantity. She dug down, seeking the spread of roots below. She broke off a portion of thick root, and showed it to Hamo.

  ‘Erk!’ he said. Black on the outside, it was white within and full of a glutinous juice.

  ‘It’ll help, I promise.’ Janna applied the cool jelly-like mixture to the boy’s smarting cheek, then turned to his nurse.

  ‘Take these roots and some leaves from the comfrey, and ask the cook to boil them up. When the water has cooled, bathe Hamo’s bruise with the decoction. It will soothe his skin and help to bring down the swelling.’

  The nurse gave a reluctant nod.

  ‘See to it,’ Hugh said sharply. She bobbed a curtsy then and set to picking some leaves. He turned to Janna. ‘You have your mother’s skill with herbs, I see.’

  ‘She taught me all she knew – and she knew a great deal.’


  ‘Where and how did she gain her knowledge?’

  ‘I know not,’ Janna confessed sadly. ‘She would not speak about her past.’ Fearing Hugh’s pity or, even worse, his judgment, she added quickly, ‘I must go now, sire. I want to be home before it gets dark.’

  ‘You could stay here tonight, at the manor.’ Janna flashed a sidelong glance at Hugh, questioning his motives. ‘In case my aunt has need of you,’ he added.

  ‘You heard my lord Robert. He bade me go, and I must obey him, sire.’

  ‘Then I will take you home, and fetch the palfrey while I am there.’ Hugh swerved off towards the barns, closely followed by Hamo, who still clutched the gummy root to the side of his face. ‘Go with your nurse, Hamo.’ He bent down and gently pushed the child in the direction of the kitchen. ‘We’ll play ball again tomorrow,’ he promised, to speed Hamo on his way.

  Reluctantly, and with many a backward glance, Hamo did as he was told. ‘Come.’ Hugh beckoned Janna and, together, they went to reclaim his large destrier from a long wattle and daub shed. The horse blew softly from a stall at the far end. Janna looked about her as Hugh saddled the horse. Above her head was a trapdoor. Wisps of hay beneath suggested that the space above was a storage house through winter, while saddles and bridles and empty stalls told the use of the space below.

  Janna marvelled that the manor should have all these separate buildings just for livestock and storage. For people too, she thought, as she noticed several straw pallets and a hook on which hung a rough smock and breeches. Serfs must also sleep here, those who had no cottage or shelter of their own. They would be out in the fields now, tending the crops, weeding, digging ditches and getting ready for haymaking. It was early summer, and the grass in the meadows would soon be tall enough to cut.