Pilgrim of Death: The Janna Chronicles 4 Page 7

  “Not like that, no.” Janna was quite sure now that the bishop’s letter could have no connection to Ralph’s cousin’s wife. She was pleased to be able to set Ralph’s mind at rest on that score, while settling her conscience at the same time.

  “But you did find something?” He was quick to pick up her slip of the tongue.

  “No!” Janna was glad of the dark, for she could feel her face flame with the lie and knew her blushes would give her away. “I am quite sure that the dead man was not your cousin,” she added hastily.

  Ralph nodded thoughtfully. “I wonder if you and Master Bernard were the first to find him?” he queried. “You say the body may have lain there for several days. Others might have come before you and searched the dead man’s scrip, for it seems strange that you found nothing within it. Surely no-one would travel so light?”

  “I am sure we were the first to find him, for it was only chance that took us down to the river at that place. There was a party of horsemen on the road and Master Bernard wanted to keep out of their way. Besides, everything about the dead man seemed undisturbed. Any thief would have removed his rings, or the gold chain about his neck, or his silver dagger, but nothing was taken. And any honest man would not have left him just lying there. The dead man’s horse grazed nearby; it was an easy enough task to hoist the body onto its back and lead it to the nearest hamlet.” She wondered if she’d said enough to put Ralph’s mind at ease. “And that’s what Master Bernard arranged,” she added. “The body was taken to Wiltune by the abbey’s guard. He, himself, searched both the dead man and his belongings, and found nothing to say who he was. But he assured us he will pursue enquiries regarding the man’s identity and will do his utmost to find his nearest kin. You could ride to Wiltune tomorrow to see the body for yourself, if you wish. It’s not far.”

  Ralph was silent for a moment. Then he said, “It’s clear to me that you are clever as well as perceptive, Johanna. If you do know anything about the identity of the dead man, or the papers he carried, you will tell me, won’t you? I would make sure you’re well rewarded for your trouble.”

  Pleasure at his flattery was outweighed by anger that he could so misjudge her character. Janna drew herself up to her full height. “We found nothing to suggest that the dead man was your cousin,” she said stiffly. “Offering a reward for information will not make me change what I have already told you.” She glanced sideways, and caught the gleam of Ralph’s eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was regarding her intently.

  “Yet it seems to me that you found something, even if it was not exactly what I thought my cousin might have carried on his person?”

  Mindful of her promise to Bernard, Janna silently cursed herself for allowing doubt to creep into Ralph’s mind. “No,” she said firmly, as firmly as her troubled conscience would allow. “We found nothing.”

  To her relief he accepted her denial. “Thank you for setting my mind at rest, Johanna,” he said. “It would seem that my cousin has either been waylaid on his journey or has traveled on ahead. I fear the former, for he ever had an eye for a game of dice and a weakness for ale.” He gave a rueful laugh. “Forgive me if I seemed to doubt you. I should have remembered what my cousin is like.”

  “But will you go to Wiltune to view the body, and make sure?” Janna rather hoped he would not. Now that he’d accepted her word, she thought she might enjoy the company of this agreeable stranger.

  “No, you’ve said enough to convince me it would be a waste of my time.” He leaned a little closer in the darkness. Janna felt his warm breath on her cheek as he whispered, “I’ll continue my journey along with you, if that’s agreeable to your leader. I shall enjoy your company along the way.”

  Your company? Was he referring to her company alone, or the company of all the pilgrims? Janna shifted uneasily. “And is the purpose of your journey only to visit the shrine of St Frideswide, sire?” She was curious as to why someone, obviously well-born and with a mount to speed his journey, should elect to take the slow way with them.

  “Yes, indeed.” Ralph sounded somewhat taken aback by her question. “As I said, I am a pilgrim just like you.”

  “But I am not on a pilgrimage,” Janna reminded him. “Besides, my destination is Ambresberie.” Not wanting to give him any opportunity to question her further, she hurried on. “Do you have a special reason for visiting St Frideswide? What is that saint’s claim to fame?”

  “She was a religious. She’s wrought many miracles over the years.”

  Just like every other saint! Janna hid a smile. “And do you need a miracle, my lord?”

  “It may be that I do.” Ralph sounded unexpectedly serious as he added, “Mayhap we all do.”

  “And does your cousin also go to Oxeneford? We might meet up with him on our journey?”

  “Perhaps.” But Ralph didn’t sound entirely convinced. Janna wondered if he still harbored secret doubts about the dead man.

  “And why do you go to Ambresberie, Johanna?”

  Janna hesitated. She didn’t want to tell him anything about her family, but after dodging his questions and concealing what she knew about the letter found on the dead man, she felt she owed him something. “I’m bound for the abbey to seek information.”

  “Oh?” She heard the spark of interest in his voice.

  “About my family.” To forestall his next question, she added quickly, “I came outside for some fresh air, but I’m tired now. I’m going inside.” Her plan to sleep outdoors was no longer possible, not with Ralph prowling about. Without giving him time to question her further, she scurried past him and returned to the stuffy, malodorous hall.

  Chapter 5

  “I must talk to you, Janna. I’m so worried, I can’t sleep.” Winifred shifted closer to Janna as she lay down once more to rest.

  “Then you must talk to me here, for we can’t go outside.”

  Ralph had not followed Janna. She wondered what he was up to out there, if he was also finding it hard to sleep in these cramped confines. Or was it worry about his cousin that kept him awake? His curiosity was understandable; she just wished she could tell him that the dead man was the bishop’s messenger and so set his mind at rest. But where had Ralph come from this day if not from Wiltune? She frowned at the thought. Yet there was no reason to doubt him, for he could have come from anywhere, traveling as he was on horseback and able to traverse many miles in a day.

  Her thoughts moved on to the message itself. While she was fairly sure that Bernard had the truth of the matter, and that the man’s death had been an accident, Janna wasn’t sure he was right in thinking the message of so little import that it would suffice to carry it to the empress himself, particularly given their slow rate of progress. On the other hand, Ralph had a horse and could travel so much faster than they could; perhaps they should trust him after all.

  But whose side was he on in this bitter civil war? There was no way of knowing. Reluctantly, Janna came to the conclusion that Bernard was right. She must say nothing to anyone, nothing at all.

  She wriggled about, trying to find a more comfortable position on the prickly straw, and became aware that Winifred was still whispering urgently into her ear.

  “…and so I thought I’d borrow it and take it back where it belongs, but after what you and Ulf said earlier, I realize my plan’s not going to work. I’m in real trouble, Janna. Please, please help me!”

  It took a few moments for Janna to realize she had no idea what Winifred was talking about. “What did you borrow?” she asked.

  “The hand, of course!”

  “The hand?”

  “Of St James of Compostela. Haven’t you been listening?”

  “Yes! No. I’m sorry, you’d better start again. What’s all this about the hand of St James?”

  “I borrowed it from Wiltune Abbey.”

  “You what?” Janna couldn’t believe her ears.

  “But Ulf knows I have it. I’m sure he knows. What’ll I do if he tells anyone I’ve g
ot it?”

  “Wait. Wait!” Janna shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “It was you who stole the hand?”

  “I didn’t steal it, I borrowed it. Well, not borrowed it exactly, because it doesn’t even belong at Wiltune. When I prayed to the saint for guidance, she let me know that my sacred mission is to take the hand back to where it came from. To the abbey at Radinges. You see, if I return it to them, I’m sure the monks will be so glad to have it back again they’ll help me realize my heart’s dream. I shall ask them to recommend me to an abbey where I can be taken in as a postulant.”

  “Recommend a thief as a postulant?” Janna was still having trouble coming to grips with Winifred’s extraordinary confession.

  “I’m not a thief!” Winifred’s voice rose high with indignation, and Janna hastily shushed her.

  “I didn’t take the hand for me,” Winifred continued more quietly. “I’m going to give it back to its rightful owners: the monks at Radinges. Not Wiltune. Not Oxeneford either. I just said I was going there as an excuse to travel with the pilgrims for part of the way. But Ulf knows I’ve got it. I could tell by what he said and the way he looked at me. He must have seen me hiding the hand in the holly bush when the abbey guard came to question us.”

  Janna was silent as several oddities suddenly began to make sense. Winifred’s scratched hands, and also her fear when Ulf described what she must have done, almost as if he’d witnessed her behavior. Had he seen her, or was it just a lucky guess on his part? She recalled Ulf’s pointed comments, and nodded thoughtfully to herself. Ulf knew all right, and he’d made sure that Winifred understood what he’d seen her do.

  “I shouldn’t worry about Ulf,” she said, trying to reassure the wretched girl. “If he saw you and meant to cause trouble for you, he would have said something to the abbey guard, or gone after him, got word to him somehow.” She was silent for a moment. “Are you sure you’ve still got the relic?” she asked. “Because that dog was chewing on a hand, I know it was. And Ulf looked as guilty as an angel caught dancing with the devil when I said so.”

  “Whatever Brutus was chewing, it wasn’t what I’ve got.” Winifred felt for Janna’s hand, and drew it toward the purse she cradled so carefully. “The blessed relic is in here.”

  Janna’s searching fingers touched hard bone through the worn leather of Winifred’s purse. “You’ve got a nerve!” She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be shocked.

  “It wasn’t my decision. St Edith showed me the way,” Winifred insisted. “I was praying at her shrine, asking for guidance as to how I could persuade an abbey to take me in without a dowry. And St Edith answered my prayers! I don’t think the sacristan knew I was there, and when she was called away, I was briefly left alone with the precious relics of both St Edith and St James. I’d been thinking how angry and how disappointed the monks at Radinges must feel to have their precious relic snatched from them by the empress, and suddenly here I was with the means to redress that wrong, and at the same time fulfill my purpose in life by serving the Lord! I knew I couldn’t shift the reliquary but it was the work of only moments to lift out the hand and shut the lid, and make my escape. I hoped no-one would notice its loss, at least not as quickly as they did.”

  Janna smiled openly, knowing that Winifred would not see her amusement in the darkness. She’d never yet heard of a thief with the brazen cheek to claim that God – or even a saint – had encouraged their wrongdoing. And yet she knew, of her own experience, how St Edith had intervened in people’s lives – including her own. So who was she to say that Winifred’s act might not appeal to the saint’s sense of humor, or even her determination to bring another soul to God? Who was she to judge the rights or wrongs of the matter?

  She remembered the resolute set of Winifred’s jaw, and the fire in her voice when she spoke of her calling. The young woman had acted with courage and determination to breathe life into her dreams. No matter how twisted her motives, her action showed plainly how desperately she wanted to retreat from the world and live as a religious. Even if Janna couldn’t share Winifred’s ambition, she felt some sympathy with anyone who would do something so outrageous to achieve her desire. In fact, she reminded herself, she was hardly in any position to judge Winifred for she, too, was a thief. She had stolen garments and set fire to a barn, and had found justification for her actions at the same time.

  Janna shifted uncomfortably at the memory of those dark days. She became aware that Winifred was speaking once more. “…and then I realized you were right,” she said anxiously. “They’ll ask questions about where I found it. They’ll suspect that I took it in the first place. And they’ll be honor-bound to send it back to Wiltune, so all of this will have been in vain. I was going to call myself Sister Edith, in honor of the saint who helped me. I can’t believe she has set me on the wrong path, but I don’t know what to do now to make things right. What do you think, Janna? Should I go back and return the hand to the abbey Wiltune?”

  “In the hope of receiving a reward large enough to buy your way into the abbey of your choice?”

  “No. To confess my misdeed.” Winifred sounded utterly miserable. It was clear to Janna that she had given up her dream and was now facing the harsh reality of her actions.

  “You’ll be severely punished for it, if you do so.” Janna felt sorry that such an act of daring should come to naught.

  “I’ll be punished enough if they just send me home.” Winifred’s tone was bitter with disgust. “My father will make me wed old Dribblegum and, oh, I would rather be dead than do that!”

  “Old Dribblegum?” Janna asked cautiously.

  “He’s old. He dribbles. And he has no teeth. But he’s a free man and he owns a small plot of land, and he will have me for his wife.” Winifred shook her head in despair. “And my father has agreed that I will marry him. That’s why I ran away, and that’s why I prayed to St Edith.”

  “So your need is to escape, rather than live the life of a religious?”

  “No! Well, yes. I needed to escape, but I’ve always wanted to live in an abbey,” Winifred said earnestly. “All that I told you is true, Janna. I don’t want to be any man’s wife. I want to serve God.” There was no doubting the passionate sincerity in her voice. Janna sympathized with her predicament.

  “Say nothing for the while,” she cautioned. “Let’s think on this, let’s see if we can find some way you may return the hand in safety, and still achieve your heart’s desire.”

  “Is that possible?” Winifred’s voice came alive, strong with new hope.

  “Shh,” Juliana grumbled sleepily.

  “I don’t know,” Janna whispered. “Sleep on it now. Let us hope that St Edith will come to us in our dreams to show us the way.”

  *

  They awoke to a wet and miserable day. Janna shivered in her thin gown as they gathered about the fire for a mug of ale and a hunk of bitter bread to break their fast. Ralph noticed her shiver, and offered her his cloak, which she declined although she longed to protect herself from the rain and cold outside. It would be dreadful out there, she thought, judging from the gusts of wind and spatters of rain that blew down the chimney and set them coughing and choking as smoke billowed from the fire.

  “And you walk in bare feet?” Ralph looked down at Janna’s toes, which peeped from below her gown, for its former owner, as well as having smaller feet than Janna, had also been slightly shorter.

  “My shoes hurt,” Janna admitted.

  “Then you must ride my horse this day, mistress, and I will walk beside you.”

  “Thank you, sire, but I do not know how to ride.” Janna was touched by his kind gesture. For the sake of her bruised and bleeding feet, she longed to accept, but knew herself to be unequal to the task. It was true she’d been on horseback several times, but as a passenger. Janna felt momentarily faint as memories flooded her mind. She blinked quickly to dispel them.

  She noticed that Ralph seemed a little surprised by her admission, and reali
zed that she’d just given herself away. He thought her highborn. She should know how to ride, for she would have been taught. “I’m frightened of horses,” she lied, not wanting him to know her true status, wanting to preserve her anonymity.

  Ralph nodded in understanding. He produced a penny from his seemingly inexhaustible supply and showed it to the farmer’s wife. “This for you if you have a pair of sandals or boots that might fit my friend,” he said.

  The farmer’s wife eyed the coin, greedy for it but unsure about giving up the comfort of a stout pair of boots. The farmer had no such qualms, however, and darted off to fetch them. They were slapped down in front of Ralph almost before he’d finished speaking. Janna felt embarrassed both by Ralph’s easy generosity and the thought that he was taking advantage of their hosts. Yet she dreaded the long walk ahead. She picked up a boot and slipped it onto her foot. It fitted easily; in fact, it was slightly too large for her. She looked at the coin in Ralph’s hand, and thought of the coins in her own purse now tucked away out of sight and also out of easy reach.

  “Thank you. I shall repay you when I can,” she told him.

  “No need.” Ralph held out the silver penny. The farmer’s wife glanced at her husband and then, with an air of defiance, snatched it and quickly slipped it up her sleeve. Janna soothed her conscience with the hope that the woman would spend the coin to her own benefit in the marketplace, that it would be enough not only to replace her boots but that she might also be able to afford some small luxury.

  True to his stated intention, Ralph accompanied the party of pilgrims. He’d offered his horse also to Juliana but, on her refusal, he now walked beside them all, leading his horse on its rein as they slowly wended their way along the path beside the river. He kept close to Janna, and so did Winifred, which had the fortunate effect of curbing any further questions on his part.

  Winifred treated Ralph with a cool shyness, but Janna couldn’t help throwing a few coquettish glances his way. He was good company, keeping them entertained with funny stories he’d heard in the course of his travels. More, he proved himself helpful when it came to hacking a way through overgrown brambles, or giving them a hand across the many rough and muddy stretches along the track. Besides, there was no denying he was the sort of man any maiden might swoon over. She shot a quick glance at him from under lowered lashes, and was immensely disconcerted to find he was scrutinizing her just as carefully.