Unholy Murder: The Janna Chronicles 3 Read online

  “Amen,” came the chorus once more. Janna hoped it was all over at last, but the priest continued to chant and the nuns to respond, joined occasionally by the rest of the congregation. The gold crosses on the altars glimmered and reflected the candlelight. One of the servers swung the censer and the sweet spiciness of incense scented the cold air.

  “Amen,” sang the nuns.

  “Dominus vobiscum,” said the priest, after their voices died away.

  “Et cum spiritu tuo.”

  “What are you saying?” Janna whispered, as the priest began to pray.

  “The priest said, ‘May the Lord be with you,’ and we said, ‘And with thy spirit.’ Shh,” said Agnes.

  “Ite, missa est.”

  “Go, the Mass is finished. At last!” Agnes flashed a wide grin as the congregation said a final and heartfelt, “Amen.”

  Janna joined the crowd now pressing toward the door. Out in the bright sunlight once more, she felt her spirits rise as she and Agnes set off to the fields. Janna glanced at her friend. “Do you get tired of going to church so often and having to sit through that long mass?” she asked.

  “No. It gives me the chance to rest, and to think.”

  “Do you understand what the priest is saying?”

  “Some of it. The lay sisters are supposed to know the Paternoster, Ave and Gloria, as well as the Credo.” Seeing Janna’s confusion, Agnes continued her explanation. “The Paternoster is a prayer to God, Our Father, and the Ave Maria is a prayer to our blessed Mother. It’s lovely, very comforting. Listen.” She began to translate it for Janna. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb.”

  Moved by the simple words, Janna touched the small figurine secreted in her purse, the mother and child. She would show it to Agnes one day. “And the Credo and Gloria?” she asked. “What are they?”

  “The Creed is where we say we believe in one God, and the Gloria is where we praise Him. I can teach them to you, if you like? Then at least you can say some of the Mass with us.”

  “What about the rest of it? Why don’t they teach you that too?”

  Agnes shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. If I don’t understand what’s going on, I just talk to God instead, quietly inside my mind.”

  Talk to God? Janna thought about it. There seemed something oddly comforting about the notion of having someone all-powerful to confide in. “Does He ever answer you?”

  “Not really. But I know He listens to me, as well as to the nuns, and that brings me comfort and peace of mind. I know that He will help me, He will answer my prayers.”

  Janna wondered if Agnes had ever prayed to be made whole again. “And if He doesn’t do what you ask?”

  “Then it is His will, and I accept that.”

  Janna didn’t know whether to envy Agnes for her faith, or pity her for having such blind belief in it. Had Eadgyth once felt like this too? The thought stopped her from questioning Agnes further.

  “I used your salve last night, Janna. At least, the salve Sister Anne made up to your recipe. I felt so sore yesterday after our work in the fields, but my scar feels easier today. I think it’s really helped me.”

  “I’m glad of that. Keep massaging it into your skin.” Janna could imagine how painful the scarring must feel, for the skin would be stretched tight over muscle and sinew, having not grown properly since Agnes was a child. She wondered if there was anything else she could suggest, and wished she was able to consult her mother. Eadgyth had always had an answer for everything.

  The sun blazed down. Janna was hot and sweating in her long habit and scapular as she took up her position beside the farm servants, who were already hard at work. Today it was Janna’s and Agnes’s turn to walk behind the harvesters, picking up the cut stalks and binding them with cords of twisted straw before stacking the sheaves together to dry in the sun. She looked around her as she worked, recognizing several men and women who had been physicked by her mother in the past, or who had bought creams and potions in the marketplace. Most of the land along the Nadder and Wylye Rivers was owned by Wiltune Abbey, and these villeins owed the abbess boonwork at this time. She envied the women their freedom to kilt up their gowns while they worked. How the whining gnat would complain in chapter if a lay sister bared her legs for all to see!

  “Mistress Johanna?”

  Janna’s heart jumped as she saw who had spoken to her. The stranger. The slight upward inflexion made his words sound like a question rather than a greeting. She wondered if she could look blank and pretend she didn’t know to whom he was referring. As she hesitated, she saw his slight smile and knew that he was sure of her.

  “Do I know you?” she asked instead.

  “Not yet.” His smile grew broader, turned into a leer. “I was told a pretty new lay sister had joined the abbey. I wanted to see you for myself. I’m glad to say that the report does not do you justice.”

  “And who are you, my lord, to pass judgment upon me?” Fear banished by his over-familiarity, Janna’s tone was tart with annoyance.

  The stranger seemed a little disconcerted by her fiery spirit. Recollecting himself, he swept a low bow. “My name is Alan, but my friends call me Mus.” Mouse? He was surely joking. “Your friends have a sense of humor,” she observed.

  “Not at all,” he rejoined swiftly. “They know me very well.” He grinned at her and stooped to gather the cut sheaves, brushing a nest of plaited grass belonging to a family of harvest mice out of the way. Janna moved to rescue them but was too late. His large boot came down and crushed them. To hide her distress, she bent and joined Mus in his labor, and worried about how she could move away without being too obvious about it.

  The hot, heavy day wore on. Only the children’s spirits seemed undiminished. They swooped about the field like little birds, calling and cooing to each other as they collected the fallen grain and stored it in the pouches slung around their waists. The screeches of greedy crows punctuated their playful chatter, while their sudden loud shouts and shrill whistles prompted noisy flappings of wings as the glossy black birds were frightened into flight.

  The stranger stayed close to Janna whenever she moved, and smiled when he caught her eye. His presence made her deeply uneasy. She could not forgive him for the wanton killing of the mice. She was quite sure that Mus was not who he claimed to be, while his nickname certainly did not fit his temperament. No mouse, Alan. This man was bold, forward, and Janna was sure his intentions toward her were not honorable.

  With a sinking feeling, she came to the conclusion that there was nothing she could do to have him removed from the band of workers. She resolved instead to be careful, very careful, and to keep a close watch. No matter if he misread her intentions, just so long as she never turned her back or gave him any opportunity to do her harm. Covertly, she studied him. She was sure, now, that she’d seen him somewhere before, and not all that long ago either. And then a possibility came to her, and she almost blurted it out. Instead, she decided to test him.

  “Have I seen you somewhere before?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t think that’s possible.” He gave a merry laugh, although his eyes stayed cold and watchful. “I am a servant of the abbey. You mistake me for someone else, mistress, I assure you.”

  Janna nodded, and smiled as if she believed him, relieved that she’d kept her suspicions to herself. In spite of his denial, she well recalled that sad procession out of the forest as Dame Alice and her husband had hurried to the manor farm after receiving news that their only son had gone missing. Janna had been standing close by, desperate to conceal her identity once she’d recognized them. She’d kept her head bent as they rode past, but she remembered that they’d been accompanied by several servants. And Mus was one of them.

  She shuddered. Robert of Babestoche had killed once to hide a secret and keep safe his position as the husband of the wealthy Dame Alice. As soon as he realized Janna knew what he’d done, he’d ac
ted against her too. But he hadn’t succeeded in silencing her forever, and he knew that now. If Mus was Robert’s manservant, his reason for being here had nothing to do with helping to gather the harvest.

  Agnes was working on her other side, and Janna took the first opportunity she could to draw her friend apart. Before she could say anything, Agnes dug her in the ribs and said, loud enough for Mus to hear, “I see your new beau isn’t wasting any time getting to know you better, Janna.”

  Cursing inwardly, Janna gave a merry peal of laughter and tried to look coy. “Don’t leave me alone with him, not even for a moment,” she hissed out of the side of her mouth.

  “Do you think he means to seduce you?” Fortunately her years of training in how to speak unobserved prompted Agnes to discretion now. Janna could only just hear her words.

  “No, not that! I believe he means me harm. I’ll tell you all about it later,” she whispered, her words accompanied by another peal of laughter as she resumed her position. If Mus was an emissary from Robert, he could have only one thing in mind: her destruction. It must happen soon, for Robert would be desperate to silence her and would have instructed Mus accordingly.

  Mus? Rat, more like! She glanced sideways, this time responding to his smile with a quick toss of her head. Under no circumstances must he think her afraid of him, nor must she let down her guard. Her muscles tightened, her heart sped to a gallop in response to the threat he posed. She felt as if she was sitting on a pile of dry tinder just waiting for a spark, for the conflagration to begin. “Let him do his worst,” she muttered under her breath. “Just let him try!”

  As if he’d read her thoughts, or even heard what she’d said, Mus sidled even closer to her. Just as Janna braced herself to foil his next move, Agnes gave a sudden groan. She dropped the heavy sheaf of cut wheat, and sat down abruptly. She bent over, clutching her stomach with one hand and massaging her sore shoulder with the other.

  “What’s wrong?” Janna asked urgently, stepping out of Mus’s reach as she bent to help her friend.

  “Nothing. Nothing.” Agnes tried to struggle to her feet. Before Janna could lift her, the bailiff was there with his hand outstretched and his face creased with concern.

  “You must rest a while in the shade, Sister Agnes,” he said firmly. Not giving Agnes any chance to disagree, he picked her up and carried her off. Startled, Janna watched them, smothering a grin as she noticed Sister Martha. The lay sister had straightened and was staring after the odd couple with an outraged expression. The gnat would have a wonderful time in chapter for certes, but Janna determined she would speak up for her friend and make it clear to the prioress that the bailiff’s action had been kindly meant and that Agnes had had no choice in the matter.

  The bailiff settled Agnes under the shade of a tree and handed her a leather bottle. Janna’s mouth became suddenly dry as she watched Agnes take a long drink and hand the bottle back to the bailiff. She said something to him, and they both laughed. Janna hoped her friend would be all right, that she wouldn’t be sent back to the abbey, but she didn’t like to break her own labor to enquire. Besides, watching the bailiff hover solicitously, she felt sure Agnes was in good hands.

  She stooped over the fallen wheat dropped by Agnes, gathered the sheaf together, then deftly twisted several straws into a long tie to bind it up before hefting the bundle to one side. Uneasily aware that she was vulnerable without her friend’s protection, Janna moved forward to rejoin the group, taking care to ensure that she was as far from Mus as possible.

  As the morning wore on, Janna looked up periodically to check on Agnes’s welfare. On one occasion the lay sister seemed to be rising, ready to return to the fields. The bailiff stooped and spoke seriously to her, and she sank back onto her grassy cushion. He sat down beside her. Curious, Janna watched them and wondered what they were saying. Agnes looked solemn. She bent forward, and seemed to be listening carefully. Once she appeared to be patting the bailiff’s arm although, even as Janna suppressed a smile at the sight of it, she snatched her hand away and covered the scar on her cheek instead. Janna wished that she was a fly, so that she could buzz around them and listen in.

  “You’re not really a lay sister, are you?” Mus’s voice made Janna jump. She tossed her head and didn’t reply. “So why are you hiding in the abbey?”

  “I’m not hiding!” Janna glared at him.

  “A young beauty like you? You must have some admirers, surely?”

  “No,” Janna said firmly.

  “I can do something about that.” Mus stepped closer and slipped an arm around her waist.

  Outraged, Janna gave him a hard push and retreated further out of his way.

  “Playing hard to get?” he murmured. “I like your spirit.”

  Not deigning to answer, Janna turned her back on him.

  “I know a quiet place we could go, where we could have fun together without being seen. I’ll introduce you to the ways men and women may pleasure each other, for that’s something you’ll never learn in an abbey.”

  “Try anything, and I’ll cripple you,” Janna warned.

  His eyes gleamed. “We’ll see about that,” he said, “for I warrant you’re going to enjoy what I have to teach you.” Whistling cheerfully, he bent to tie up a sheaf of wheat.

  The hayward’s horn was a welcome reprieve for Janna. Even though the wheat field was crowded and she was sure Mus wouldn’t risk any move that might be observed, she felt uneasy. She left the field and hurried over to Agnes, who was still sitting under the tree.

  “Are you all right to walk back to the abbey?” she asked anxiously.

  “Of course. I would have come back to work, but Master Will won’t hear of it.” Agnes’s eyes lit up with mischief. “I’m tempted to ask him to carry me all the way home, just to see Sister Martha’s face!”

  Janna laughed, relieved to see her friend in such good spirits. “Stay where you are. I’ll fetch us some dinner,” she said, and went to collect some meat pasties, fruit and a jug of ale. She sat down beside Agnes, and began to eat with enthusiasm.

  It was some time before she realized that Agnes wasn’t really listening to her chatter.

  “I saw the devil last night.” Janna licked the last crumbs of the pasty from her fingers. “He had fangs for teeth and snakes for hair.”

  “Good. Glad to hear it.” Agnes continued to watch the bailiff, who had not yet sat down to eat, so busy was he with supervising the bundles of sheaves now being loaded onto a wagon.

  Janna followed her glance, and nudged Agnes to get her full attention. “He seems like a very kind man,” she said.

  “Indeed he is. I’ve known him ever since I was old enough to come out and work in the fields. Poor man.” Agnes’s face softened in sympathy. “His wife died last year. He was telling me that his youngest child still calls for her mother in the night. There are times when he cannot console her.”

  “Does he have no other family to help him?”

  “A sister, he says, but he doesn’t often see her. His oldest child is but ten. Wat, he’s called. That’s him over there.” Agnes pointed at a young lad, one of several who had quickly stuffed themselves with food and were now kicking around a pig’s bladder filled with straw, scuffling each other to gain possession of the ball. It wasn’t often that the children had time free to play. She looked up then as the bailiff approached.

  “Thank you for your care of me, Master Will. I-I regret the trouble I have caused you. As I am of no use to you, I will not come out tomorrow. I don’t want to be a burden.”

  Janna knew how much Agnes’s sacrifice meant to her and felt deeply sorry, yet she could think of no way out of the problem.

  “Never think you are a burden, Sister Agnes,” the bailiff protested firmly. “I would not have you toil in the fields any longer, for I have seen how difficult it is for you, but…” He looked around, seeming momentarily at a loss for words. His face suddenly brightened. “But I have just the task for you,” he said cheerfully, a
nd beckoned one of the children forward. “As you know, the abbey takes a tithe of all the wheat we’ll reap here.” He took the cloth bag from the child and held it out in front of them. “See?” he said, indicating the gleaned wheat that the child had gathered. “Instead of keeping one of the mothers back to supervise the children, perhaps you might do it instead? The young ones especially need watching.”

  Agnes’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Oh, I would like that,” she breathed.

  “Then I’ll see you both tomorrow.” The bailiff’s glance rested on Agnes for a moment longer before he walked away to deal with a question from a waiting villein. Janna took Agnes’s left arm to help her up and together they strolled back to the abbey. While Agnes babbled happily about the bailiff’s kindness, and what a good man he was, Janna wondered if kindness was his only motivation, and where it all might end.

  Chapter 5

  It was Janna’s turn to cut the wheat on the following day. She and Agnes were late coming to the fields for, as expected, there’d been a complaint from Sister Martha at chapter. “He picked her up in his arms. He carried her over to a tree!” From her awed, horrified tone, Janna was quite sure the gnat’s imagination had turned an act of kindness into a scene of utter debauchery. She hurried to intervene.

  “The bailiff was merely trying to help,” she said. “Sister Agnes was…” She hesitated, suddenly aware that it was not up to her, as a newcomer, to explain Agnes to her sisters.

  “I was in great pain from having to lift the heavy bundles of wheat in order to tie them,” Agnes said, with dignity. “Master Will carried me over to a tree so that I might sit under it in comfort to recover my strength.” She glared at Martha. “You cannot make any more of it than that!”

  “You had better stay within the abbey today, Sister Agnes,” the abbess decided.