Willows for Weeping Read online

  'A trap? What are you talking about? The bishop is our ally!' Walter eyed Janna warily, perhaps thinking her wits had gone wandering.

  She had trusted him so far, she must trust him now. Janna reasoned that soon enough he would read the message for himself, but she must convince him not to delay in delivering it.

  'The letter is addressed to the king, and you are right. It is to urge him to be of good cheer, but not for the reason you think. Instead, the bishop takes credit for counselling the queen and her troops to lay siege against the empress on the eve of her coronation, so proving to the Londoners that the empress was powerless to protect them. The bishop says he intends to oppose and thwart her at every turn, and snare her if he can, with the intention of exchanging her life for that of the king. It is quite clear from the letter that he has never supported the empress; that he has been working against her from the start, in fact.'

  'What?' Walter had paled as Janna unfolded the full extent of the bishop's treachery. 'I must go to the empress at once, and warn her,' he said breathlessly.

  'Surely it is more important to warn the earl?' Janna said, and proceeded to put forward the argument that she'd used to convince herself that this was the correct course of action.

  'I must read this letter for myself.' Walter looked worried and uncertain. Janna realised he didn't believe her.

  'You will see the truth of my words once you do, but you must take it to the earl without delay,' she urged him.

  He nodded. His glance raked the group of jongleurs, and settled briefly on Ulf. He turned to Janna. 'My mother told me that Ulf and Ralph de Otreburne joined the pilgrim band along the journey. I see Ulf still travels in your company.' His glance hardened. 'Where is Ralph?'

  'Ralph? He travels with us to Winchestre. It is his horse that cast a shoe. He had to take it to the blacksmith back at that hamlet we just passed through.'

  'Red tunic, long fair hair, beard and moustache?'

  Janna nodded.

  'I saw him with the blacksmith.' Walter scowled at the memory. 'I understand he told you that he was a pilgrim. Why, then, has he not continued on to Oxeneford with the other pilgrims? Did you think to ask him that?'

  'He's coming to Winchestre with me to help me find my father.' Janna had no intention of sharing her hopes and dreams for the future with Walter, but it was safe to admit that much. Yet it seemed it was not enough to convince him. The disbelief on his face was easily read. 'He thinks he knows who my father is whereas I . . . I do not,' she said, needing to defend Ralph even though it shamed her to admit so much to Walter. 'Ralph knows nothing about the bishop's letter, I swear it,' she burst out. 'And if you leave us now, he will never know there was anything to find or that I had anything to give you.'

  'But he is not the only one from the pilgrim band who still accompanies you. What about the relic seller, Ulf. Why is he still in your company?'

  Janna couldn't help feeling glad that Walter's focus had shifted to Ulf. All her suspicions came flooding back. Ulf was a rogue, yes, she knew that much about him. Was he also a killer?

  'Ulf knows something of the letter,' Walter prompted her. 'My mother confided in him in her grief. Why is he following you?'

  Janna took a quick breath. 'To protect me. That's what he said, although I'm not sure I believe him. I certainly don't need looking after!' She tossed her head, flushing angrily as she noted the sudden glint of amusement in Walter's eyes.

  'He really does sell relics,' she said. 'He's had a very profitable journey so far and hopes to do even better in Winchestre.'

  'I'm sure he does,' Walter said drily. 'I will speak to him before I go.' He turned away from her, then swung back with a final warning, his words a strange echo of his brother's last words to Janna. 'Promise me you'll say nothing of this letter to anyone. Trust no-one.' His expression hardened. 'Both our lives will be in danger if word of this gets out.' He waited for Janna to make the promise then, to her relief, he left her. After a brief exchange with Ulf, he mounted his horse and set off at a gallop for Winchestre, with a broad smile and a cheerful wave giving the appearance that he had not a care in the world.

  Janna watched him go, feeling a great burden lift from her shoulders as his figure dwindled in the distance.

  'What was that all about, Janna?' Master Thomas strode over to her, closely followed by Faldo and the rest of the troupe.

  'Oh,' she gulped, at a loss to know what to say. 'Oh, Master Walter is an old friend of my family. They . . . they gave him a message for me, just . . . just in case our paths crossed along his journey.'

  Master Thomas nodded, apparently satisfied, but his wife poked her nose in Janna's direction. 'He seemed in a great hurry to be gone.' It was clear from her tone that Walter had not observed the courtesies so far as Elanor was concerned, and that she took it as a personal affront.

  'He . . . has to attend to some urgent business.' It was the truth after all, Janna thought.

  But Mistress Elanor was still not satisfied. 'And what is his business that it's so urgent?'

  'He's a . . . a merchant.'

  'A merchant? Where then are his goods?'

  Janna heaved an exasperated sigh. Really, the woman was cursed with even more curiosity than she was! 'He was robbed. There are no goods left to steal!' she said firmly.

  Elanor raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

  'So what were you arguing about?' Faldo asked curiously.

  'We weren't arguing. He was angry about the theft, that's all. And he is in haste to report it.' Janna felt herself colouring under their combined gaze. She walked away and flung herself down in a patch of shade, eager to avoid any more questions. Ulf followed her, and sat down beside her.

  'That was Bernard's brother,' he said quietly.

  Janna nodded, and closed her eyes. She was afraid to talk about him lest she give something away. She was even more afraid of what might happen if she did.

  'He questioned me about Ralph.'

  Janna pressed her lips together, refusing to take the bait.

  'He also asked why I had stayed in your company.'

  'And what did you answer?'

  'I said Dame Juliana had asked me to look after you.'

  Janna gave an impatient exclamation, her annoyance clearly on show.

  'Faldo was right, wasn't he? You were arguing. What about? What's happened?'

  'Nothing that need concern you.' Janna turned away. She was tired of being questioned, tired of having her word doubted, tired of being involved in the treachery swirling around the empress and her bid for the throne. She'd handed over the bishop's letter. She'd done what she could and all she wanted was to be left in peace!

  To be certain of it, she pretended she was falling asleep. But her brain continued busy as ever. The letter was out of her hands now, but she knew that its safe delivery was only part of Walter's quest. Sooner or later, he would look for his brother's killer and extract vengeance. Ulf? Or did he suspect Ralph? Stricken, her hand flew up to her heart. 'It was Adam,' she whispered to herself. 'Adam!' Or was it Ulf? Her uneasi-ness grew. Her thoughts were like a black fog, thick as the mist at the henge. Darkness swelled around her, sucking her down into its depths.

  She only realised that she'd fallen asleep when Master Thomas's voice roused her. 'We can go now,' he called out to everyone. 'Here comes Master Ralph. It looks as if his visit to the blacksmith has met with success.'

  'I saw Walter hand you a letter to look at. Was that what you were arguing about?' Ulf came to her side as soon as he saw that she was awake.

  'No! It was a message from my family, that's all.' Janna turned to pick up Bernard's staff, desperate to discourage any further questions. But Ulf would not be put off. He laid his hand on her arm to keep her attention. 'I promised Dame Juliana that I would keep you safe, and I will honour that promise,' he said seriously. 'Dame Juliana foresaw the death of her son, and she told me that death stalks you too. Be careful, Janna. Please, be careful.'

  Janna shrugged him off. 'How do
I know I can trust you, Ulf?' she said, fear making her brutal in her honesty. 'How do I know I can trust anybody?'

  Ulf's eyes narrowed. 'You can trust me,' he said, and walked away.

  Janna watched him go. She took several long breaths in an effort to calm her agitation. She was sure her cheeks were scarlet, bearing witness to her distress and confusion. She dreaded having to face Ralph and his bright and knowing gaze. She moved closer to Faldo, thinking neither Ralph nor Ulf could say anything more to upset her, or provoke her into revealing secrets, if she kept always in the company of others.

  'You're training to be a jongleur like your father,' she said, knowing Faldo wouldn't be able to resist showing off his knowledge. 'Can you recite something to me?'

  Faldo brightened at the chance to perform in front of an appreciative audience. 'Something from The Song of Roland?' he asked Janna. 'It's the most popular. The nobles like stories about Charlemagne the Great. So do the common folk.'

  'Common folk like me?'

  Faldo grinned at her. 'Common folk in the marketplace and at the fairs. Wait till you see St Giles Fair at Winchestre, mistress. We come every year for it. It's the biggest and the best! You wouldn't believe there were so many people in the whole world as come up on the hill where the fair is held. It's like a town up there, with every animal and bird you've ever seen for sale, and some you never have. And an array of goods to take your very breath away! We always do well there, for the people love to hear our songs and stories, and dance to the music of Elanor and Nicholas.' His face split into a wide grin, and he clapped his hands together in remembered joy.

  Janna watched Ralph dismount, and her heart quivered with fear. Keep Faldo talking, she thought. 'The Song of Roland will do.' Her nerves were strung taut. She was acutely aware of Ralph's presence. 'Or you could teach me another song?'

  Faldo gazed at her in astonishment. He knew how reluctant a singer she was. 'There's a sweet song about love that was taught to me by a jongleur from across the water,' he said, adding doubtfully, 'It's a little . . . suggestive.'

  'That'll do.'

  'And you'll sing it with me?'

  Janna sighed. But she was desperate. 'Yes,' she promised.

  'I still remember one morning when we put an end to our quarrel,

  And when she gave me such a great gift: her love and her ring.

  May God let me live until I may have my hands under her cloak!'

  Faldo's voice quavered on the last few words. He glanced quickly at Janna, who gave him an encouraging smile. She'd expected something far worse after his warning!

  'I know some others, but they're all much longer,' Faldo said anxiously.

  'No, that'll do. Sing it for me again.' She closed her eyes as he sang, trying to memorise the simple tune. 'Now tell me the words,' she said, after Faldo had gone through it a third time.

  'And now it's your turn, Janna,' he told her, when it finally became obvious that she must know by now both the words and the tune.

  'Sing it with me?' she asked anxiously, and Faldo nodded.

  'Bravo!' Ralph clapped them roundly as the song came to an end.

  'Again,' Janna demanded. 'Let's sing it again.'

  'Why?' Ralph queried. 'I thought you didn't like singing? I thought you couldn't sing?'

  'I'm finding my voice.' It was the first excuse that came into Janna's head. The realisation that it was true brought a jolt of surprise. And a gleeful smile of triumph. 'I still remember one morning,' she began, this time singing on her own. Her voice was not nearly so sweet and true as Faldo's voice, but it was her voice and hers alone. To be able to sing with joy gave her a great deal of pleasure, and some measure of pride. 'When we put an end to our quarrel,' she continued, with more confidence than she'd yet shown.

  Ralph gave her a curious glance, but he heard her out until the end of it. But for all Janna's efforts to distract him, it was impossible for her to keep on singing indefinitely.

  'Is everything all right, Janna?' he asked, when she was finally silent. 'You seem nervous. On edge.'

  'All's well.' But Janna didn't dare meet his keen gaze. She kept her eyes on the track as they walked along. She could find nothing to say to Ralph. Everything that came to mind led to what she was so desperate to keep a secret.

  Eventually Ralph gave up trying to engage her in conversation, and walked on ahead in search of better company. The words of the song stayed with Janna. She sang softly to herself as she followed the jongleurs along the track. It was all very well for women to think of romance and love, she thought, but it was quite clear from the song that the man had other things on his mind as well. Was that how Ralph thought of her? Was that all men thought about? Just how faithful were they anyway, when an opportunity to bed a woman presented itself?

  She glanced ahead. Ralph was now deep in conversation with Master Thomas. She wondered if they were discussing her, for he kept flicking glances her way. Janna felt ashamed of herself. Ralph had given up his pilgrimage to Oxeneford to come with her to Winchestre to find her father, and yet she had lied and lied again to him. Could she not trust him with the truth? Yes, she thought, if the truth was hers to tell. But it wasn't, for there was too much at stake now to risk even one word that might spread and spread like ripples in a pond, and come to the wrong ears as a result.

  Janna sighed. As soon as this is over, she thought, as soon as I know that the message is safely delivered to Earl Robert, I will tell Ralph everything and try to win him to the empress's cause. She cheered up slightly at the thought of how surprised he would be to hear her news. He'd discover that he wasn't the only source of court gossip! She imagined the respect with which he'd treat her, once he knew of her part in this affair. She patted a smear of dust off her gown, and smoothed her hair under its gauzy veil, consciously readying herself for his admiration. She felt wistful as she remembered the scented lotions and creams that her mother had taught her how to prepare. She wished there was somewhere she could wash and make herself beautiful in Ralph's eyes. She was ready, now, to be close to him, as close and loving as any man and woman could be.

  She gave him a self-conscious grin as he dropped back to keep pace with her. It was as well her thoughts were private. Even the recollection of what she'd wished for brought a blush to her cheeks and a weakness to her limbs.

  'I believe you had some company while I was gone,' he observed lightly. 'Why didn't you tell me about Master Walter? I hear he paid you a great deal of attention.'

  'Our families are friends.' Janna launched automatically into the lie and then stopped, covered in confusion. Ralph, more than anyone, knew that she had no family. She began to burn with shame and embarrassment.

  'Really? In that case I can't think what you found to talk about.' His mild tone belied the chilly blue gaze of his eyes.

  'I know him from Berford. My mother made up a . . . a potion for his cough.' Janna sought to retrieve the situation, even though it meant telling even more lies.

  'He spent a long time talking to you,' Ralph probed.

  'Perhaps he was enjoying my company?' Janna looked at him, sure that he could read the deceit in her eyes. This is intolerable, she thought, tempted after all to break her promise to Walter. She was conscious that she was doing nothing to help her own cause. If Ralph suspected that she was lying to him, he might well regret his decision to help her. But how could she tell what she knew when Bernard might have died for the message he carried? Walter had warned her that her own life, as well as his, would be in danger if anyone knew she'd found the letter.

  'What did you give Master Walter?' Ralph's voice broke into her thoughts.

  In an agony of indecision, Janna was about to deny it. Ralph's grim expression checked her. 'Master Thomas saw you,' he said, adding softly, 'What did you give him, Janna, that has taken him off at such a fast gallop to Winchestre?'

  She stared at Ralph in panic. She couldn't deny what the jongleur had seen. What in God's name could she tell him now except the truth? Except that the tru
th had the power to kill.

  Could she say she'd given Walter a favour to carry, something of hers to keep until they met again? If Ralph thought she was interested in Walter, or he in her, it would mean the end of any future liaison with Ralph, and the end of his help in finding her father. Should she rather say she'd given Walter a message to deliver?

  What message? And to whom? Her numb brain couldn't think of anything that might convince Ralph other than the truth, for he knew she had no kin there. Could she tell him the truth? Should she tell him the truth? Should she trust him as someone who had demonstrated that he was on her side, for hadn't he put his own interests behind him to help her? Surely he deserved to be trusted!

  'A message, perhaps?' Ralph asked coldly.

  Janna heard the anger in his voice. Her fear intensified, although she couldn't say now what she most feared: telling the truth, or Ralph's reaction when he found out she'd been lying to him all along. After a space, after what felt like a lifetime, she nodded.

  'You gave him a message?'

  Janna gulped. Sensing danger, she took a quick step back-wards. 'Yes,' she whispered.

  Ralph moved closer. She read his anger in the taut stillness of his body. His hands clenched, his fingers curved into claws like the talons of a bird of prey. Shuddering, she dragged her gaze away from them. She looked into his face, dreading what she might see there.

  'The message that Master Bernard found on the dead man's body? You've had it all along?' Something shifted in his hard stare, a sudden softening as he saw how frightened she was.

  'No. I . . . I didn't know I had it. I've only just found it.' His stare mesmerised her. She could not look away.

  'Yet you gave it away to a stranger? Why didn't you keep it to show me?'

  'I . . . didn't know you were interested.' Was that true? Janna remembered his questions about the dead messenger and the letter he'd carried. Was it really only concern for his cousin that lay behind them? Did he even have a cousin, or had he been searching for this letter all along?