Janna Mysteries 1 & 2 Bindup Page 3

  As she dug deeper into the earth, Janna’s thoughts went back to their first meeting only a few weeks ago. He had come, in a fright, for a cure for his mother. She was shaking with ague, he’d said. She could hardly breathe. He didn’t know what to do for her. Could someone please come at once?

  Eadgyth had sent Janna to gather fresh herbs, and Godric had followed her out into their herb garden, looking as if he wasn’t quite sure where to plant his feet. Fearing for the delicate herbs, which were her responsibility, Janna bade him stand still and hold what she picked. Although he’d stayed where she’d put him, there was a contained restlessness about him that told her Godric was a man more used to action, and that he chafed at standing still. She was conscious that he watched her, and she tried to make sure he didn’t catch her looking at him. Yet he was pleasing to look at, being tall and well built, with the fair hair and blue eyes of the Saxons. She’d been disappointed when Eadgyth bade her stay home to keep an eye on a mixture she had simmering over the fire, rather than allowing Janna to accompany them to the sick woman’s cottage.

  ‘What do you know of Godric and his mother?’ she’d asked, when her mother returned home. Eadgyth had chuckled, not deceived by the casual question or the real focus of Janna’s interest.

  ‘They live over at Babestoche Manor,’ she said. ‘Godric owes his allegiance to Dame Alice and her lord.’

  ‘Not to the abbess?’ Janna was surprised. The Abbess of Wiltune owned vast tracts along the Nadder River, including the land their own cottage was on. Godric must have walked several miles across the downs to seek them out.

  ‘The manor’s lands adjoin those belonging to the abbess. Godric’s mother has told me about his position there, and his prospects. He sounds like a good and honourable man, Janna.’

  ‘He’s not married then?’

  ‘No. But his mother would be glad to see him take a wife.’ Janna wondered now if Eadgyth shared that ambition, and if she’d been left behind on purpose, so that her mother could check out Godric’s suitability as a husband. Yet Eadgyth often left her behind while she went out to minister to her patients. It was an old grudge, and the injustice of it angered Janna anew.

  ‘How is your mother?’ she asked Godric, thinking that she should make use of this time to get to know him while Eadgyth wasn’t around to interfere. ‘Is she quite recovered now?’

  ‘She is very well, I thank you.’ Godric paused for a moment and studied Janna. ‘It was a blessed day that brought me to your door.’

  And what did that mean? Was he thankful for his mother’s cure, or was he glad of their meeting? Janna wanted to ask him, but was afraid where the question might lead. To a proposal of marriage? She smiled in the darkness, telling herself not to let her imagination run away with her.

  ‘This is not how I imagined our second meeting would be.’ Godric continued to dig while he elaborated on his earlier observation. ‘I had intended to ask your mother if I might call on you.’

  ‘Do you need more medication for your mother?’ Sudden panic prompted Janna to deliberately misunderstand Godric’s meaning. At once she wished she could retrieve her words. He’d already told her his mother was well. He’d think her a witless idiot.

  Godric laughed. ‘I think you understand me well enough, Janna,’ he said cheerfully. To her relief, he straightened then, and said, ‘The hole is deep enough. Hold up the torch so that I can see what I’m doing.’

  He grabbed hold of the boar. ‘What a waste of good meat,’ he said as he tugged and pushed it into the deep hole they’d dug. Suddenly hopeful, he whipped his knife out of its sheath. ‘Couldn’t I just slice off a little …?’

  ‘Don’t even think about it.’ Quickly, before he had time to put the thought into action, Janna scooped up a handful of earth and threw it over the animal. With a shrug of resignation, Godric sheathed his knife and set to helping her cover the boar.

  Godric wanted to come calling on her! As Janna heaped earth over the dead animal, she reflected what that meant. Courtship. Marriage. No! Although she liked Godric – liked him a lot – she did not want to wed, not yet anyway.

  True, she was of an age to marry. Other young women of her age in the hamlets nearby were either betrothed or wed. One was even expecting her first child, and wore the bump of her belly like a badge of honour.

  Instinctively, Janna shrank from the knowledge of what had gone before to bring their love to such a conclusion. This was not for her. She was not yet ready to share her body or her life with someone else. There was still so much she wanted to experience for herself, so many new places she wanted to explore. She could not, would not plight her troth to Godric, nor to any other, nor keep a home and bear children at the price of her own freedom, and her own dreams for the future.

  Yet what were those dreams, exactly?

  Janna couldn’t say, knew only that at times she sensed that a world beyond the forest awaited her, a world full of promise for the future. At such times a great longing seized her, a longing for adventure, a longing to be gone. She and Eadgyth eked out an existence from their small plot of land, and knew hunger if the season went against them. It was a hard life, but they were free to leave, to go anywhere they wished, whereas Godric, like all villeins, was bound to a liege lord and had to spend his days in service on the land so that he might have enough food to eat, and sufficient left over to pay his dues. If she wed Godric, she too would be stuck here for ever. She would never know if there was something else out there, waiting for her.

  Common sense told Janna she was nothing. A nobody. Her only identity came from being Eadgyth’s daughter, while her occupation, her reason for living, lay in tending their garden and animals, growing the vegetables which fed them, and the flowers and herbs for the concoctions that made up their livelihood. It was unlikely she’d ever go anywhere. In fact, she’d be lucky to find a husband at all, let alone someone as kind and as brave as Godric.

  Lost in her thoughts as she was, Janna was startled when Godric straightened and wiped his muddy hands down his tunic. ‘Do you know where we are?’ she asked, as she clambered to her feet and took hold of the resin torch.

  ‘Of course. I told you, I know this forest.’ He plucked off a small leafy branch of hazel and swept it around the grave to hide all trace of their illicit activity, while Janna scattered armfuls of dead leaves on top, to further disguise the spot.

  ‘Stay close to me. I’ll look after you.’ Godric took Janna’s hand to guide her. He began to push his way through the trees. It seemed to Janna that they were setting off in the wrong direction, but she held her peace, trusting him. Fallen logs and hidden tree roots tripped her. Several times her feet sank into boggy patches, unseen traps under the nettles, dock and bracken that carpeted the forest floor. She would have fallen without Godric’s hand to steady her. Did he really know where he was going? He didn’t seem to be following a set path; in fact she was sure they had turned through at least one circle. Once or twice he stopped, bidding her shine the torch ahead. He was following the signs of his passage, she realised suddenly, recognising then the significance of bruised and trampled plants, a muddy footprint, broken twigs. At last he bent and picked up a dead hare. He slung it over his shoulders and took her hand once more, this time walking ahead in a straight, sure line.

  Janna was pleased that saving her hadn’t interfered with his real night’s work. All the same, she felt uneasy. She should say something, just to have things clear between them. How could she let him know how she felt without hurting his feelings?

  It’s not my fault I don’t want to marry yet, she thought crossly. Why can’t he court Gytha instead? Or Elfreda or Wulfrun? They would surely be pleased to have an offer of marriage from such a fine fellow!

  The memory of her ordeal did little to add to Janna’s peace of mind as she trudged along. Her heart pumped faster and she broke into a clammy sweat as she relived the terror of the chase. She could have died tonight. Without Godric, all her fine dreams for the future would h
ave counted for nothing. There was no getting around the fact that she owed him her life, and that she would always be in his debt. She hated that feeling of obligation, and what it might mean for her future. In fact, Janna felt thoroughly uncomfortable by the time they came to a part of the forest she recognised. She was not so very far from home after all.

  ‘Thank you, Godric.’ She stopped and let go of his hand, wanting to put an end to her indebtedness to him, and to her own uneasy thoughts. ‘Thank you for saving my life tonight. I know where I am now. I can find my way from here.’

  ‘I will see you safe home.’ He kept on walking in the direction of the cottage.

  ‘I know this part of the forest. I’m used to walking it alone,’ Janna protested.

  Godric smiled at her. ‘I just want to make sure you are safe,’ he said simply, and kept on going. With a sigh of resignation, Janna followed him.

  The cottage was in darkness when they reached it. Janna pushed open the door, hoping to find her mother back home and sleeping within. But the only sign of life was the black cat, which stirred and blinked one sleepy eye at them. A faint warmth came from the turfed-down fire; thin wisps of smoke added to the already choking atmosphere. Janna flung open a shutter to let some fresh air into the smoky room, while Godric crouched down and blew on the embers, helping to bring the flame to life with a handful of dry leaves and twigs kept in a crock beside the fireplace.

  As the flames caught and held, the small cottage became illuminated in their glow. Janna poured some water into a bowl and added a few leaves of soapwort to clean her filthy hands. She beckoned Godric to join her.

  ‘Where is your mother?’ he asked, once he’d dried his hands on the cloth Janna offered him.

  ‘Gone to look after Dame Alice.’ Janna scowled at the memory.

  ‘Is something amiss with ma dame?’

  Janna remembered that the lady’s husband was Godric’s liege lord. ‘My mother has gone to help my lady recover from the birth of her babe,’ she said briefly, not wanting to fuel the situation with wild rumours.

  ‘Will you be all right out here on your own? Shall I stay with you until your mother returns?’

  ‘No! I’m quite used to being alone.’ Janna turned from him, willing him to be gone. Her thoughts were in turmoil, and he was standing far too close for comfort. She could feel the heat from his body, and shivered as his sleeve brushed hers.

  The black cat uncoiled and began to weave around Godric’s ankles. He nudged it aside with his boot. ‘Don’t!’ Janna remonstrated as the cat gave an affronted growl.

  Godric looked up then, his expression serious. ‘I know your mother has skill with herbs, and I have good reason to be grateful. Dame Alice’s patronage must also be seen as a mark of respect. But take care, Janna. There is talk in the village and in the hamlets around here, much talk about this cat and about your mother.’

  ‘What nonsense is this?’ Janna snatched up Alfred and stroked him, soothing his dignity along with her own agitation.

  ‘The new priest speaks against you for refusing to come to his church. He says that you meddle in matters which should better be left to God.’

  ‘I suppose he would rather a woman die in childbirth than seek help,’ Janna said scornfully.

  ‘I understand that you and your mother seek only to heal, to bring relief to those in need, but there is a midwife at Berford. Why not leave such things to her?’

  ‘My mother has far more skill and knowledge than Mistress Aldith,’ Janna retorted. ‘She says the midwife knows more about burying mothers than bringing babies into the world. That’s why Master Fulk was summoned to the manor house. And that’s why he came to fetch my mother and not Mistress Aldith tonight.’ Janna stopped abruptly as she remembered Godric’s position at the manor house. ‘If Aldith has been speaking against us, it is because most women respect my mother’s knowledge and seek her out rather than place their safety in the hands of an ignorant woman!’ she added hastily.

  ‘I have not heard Mistress Aldith blacken your mother’s name, but others do. There is talk that your mother communes with the dead, and that she is even able to take on their appearance.’ Godric pointed at the cat in Janna’s arms. ‘’Tis also said by some that this is the devil in your home.’

  ‘Alfred?’ Janna’s arms tightened around the cat. ‘You can’t be serious!’

  ‘And that’s another thing,’ Godric said awkwardly. ‘They’re also angry that you’ve given your cat the name of the greatest king that Wessex has ever known.’ He smiled then. ‘Couldn’t you just call it Fluffy, or something?’

  ‘No, I could not.’ It was because of the villagers that she’d come to name the cat Alfred. She wouldn’t change the name for anything.

  ‘Well.’ Godric moved towards the door. ‘I mean no harm in repeating what people are saying. It’s nonsense anyway. I just wanted to warn you. But perhaps a warning isn’t necessary if Dame Alice has called on your mother’s skill to aid her. That should be enough to stop any ill-natured tattle.’

  He opened the door, then quickly turned, seized Janna’s hand and kissed it, blushing deeply as he did so. ‘Goodbye,’ he muttered. ‘God be with you, Janna.’

  ‘Goodbye, Godric. Thank you for saving me tonight.’ Janna felt his kiss burn through her skin, through all the bones and muscles of her body.

  ‘Shall I ask for a reward?’ he said cheerfully. His face brightened as he added, ‘Shall I ask for more than just your thanks?’

  Janna’s face flamed scarlet. Godric grinned at her. ‘We shall meet again, Janna, and soon,’ he promised, and padded off into the night.

  THE COTTAGE SEEMED too quiet after Godric had gone. Janna stared into the golden heart of the fire, reflecting on his words. Did the villagers really fear them, fear Alfred? She set him down, then sat down herself, for her legs felt trembling and weak all of a sudden. She still felt shaken after her encounter with the boar, but she felt even more shaken after her encounter with Godric. There was no doubt as to his intention, but what did she really owe him for his deed this night? Was she willing to pay with her heart, her body, her life and loyalty?

  Alfred nudged her hand, his intention plain. Janna bent to stroke him and he purred loudly. She smiled down at him, remembering how, so many months ago, she’d found him struggling in the river, along with the rest of the litter that had been thrown in to drown. She had tried to save them all. This was the only kitten to survive, so she’d decided to call him Alfred after the great king who had never given up, who had continued to fight the Danes until he’d succeeded in driving them out of Wessex.

  Patiently she had set out to befriend the cat, and tame him. Step by step, Alfred had allowed Janna to touch him, to stroke his fur, to pick him up for a cuddle. Shut in on the long winter evenings, he had finally come to Janna in the midnight hours, when the fire had died down and the cottage was cold. Together and warm, they had slept through the night.

  She picked him up and plopped him down on the straw pallet where she and Eadgyth slept. Next, she unfastened her girdle of plaited fibres and laid the purse of strawberries upon the table. They had cost her dear – how dear she could not tell her mother, for she knew the questions that would follow if she spoke of her encounter with Godric. She would not answer to her mother, or Godric, until she knew the truth of her own heart, she decided.

  She removed the long, coarsely woven grey kirtle that covered her under-tunic and lay down beside the cat. She shivered suddenly, and pulled an old moth-eaten fur coverlet over her body, snuggling into its folds for warmth and comfort. The black cat curled up beside her, purring loudly. She raised a hand to stroke his glossy fur, then gave a sudden snort of laughter as she recalled Godric’s warning. Could the villagers truly believe that Alfred was the devil? How could they be so ignorant, so superstitious! She longed to be free of them all, free to follow her destiny. What fun it would be to travel to royal Winchestre and have adventures. She could find work along the way. It wouldn’t matter what she did,
so long as she could earn her keep. And if she worked hard, perhaps she might even become a somebody instead of a nobody. She might meet a handsome nobleman … or even the king himself …

  Janna’s hand stilled upon the cat’s soft fur. There was a half-smile upon her face as daydreams dissolved into the phantasmagoria of sleep.

  The cottage was still empty when she awoke. She sat up, feeling a moment’s alarm until she realised that her mother must still be with Dame Alice. It meant things must be going badly for, with an important visitor to see this morning, her mother would surely have returned by now. Unless she and Fulk were busy making plans for their new partnership? Janna scowled at the thought, but it was followed quickly by another, more interesting idea. If Eadgyth spent most of her days in Wiltune looking after Fulk’s patients, wouldn’t that give her, Janna, more freedom to look after the villagers here on her own?

  Janna felt excited by the prospect. She began to regret her hasty exit the night before.

  Alfred was waiting by the door. Janna jumped up to let him out, then followed him outside to peer across the green downs in the direction of Babestoche Manor. A distant figure told her that Eadgyth was on her way home. She set about rekindling the fire, and hung a pot of water to boil, while she waited impatiently to question her mother about their future.

  ‘And did you gather the strawberries after you left us so rudely, Janna?’ Eadgyth’s tone, as she opened the door, was cool, unforgiving. She did not look at her daughter but instead busied herself untying her cloak and hanging it from a peg.

  Janna’s face flushed with embarrassment. ‘And are you now in partnership with Fulk the apothecary, mother?’ She mimicked Eadgyth’s tone, sulky with resentment.

  ‘Hold your tongue, foolish girl.’ Her mother caught sight of the purse and moved towards the table to inspect its contents. The night’s adventure was still vivid in Janna’s mind. She wanted to tell her mother how dangerous gathering strawberries had proved, and ask her advice about Godric. But her mother had cautioned her to be silent and so she would. She, too, could keep secrets.