Stolen Child: The Janna Chronicles 2 Page 8

  Janna wondered if the cook realized she was contradicting herself, but was too weary to defend the young woman in question. Instead, she pondered what the luckless Bertha had done to attract so much spite and ire. Bertha was the carpenter’s daughter. Although she was not as comely as Gytha, she had a pleasant countenance that matched her friendly disposition. Perhaps it was her popularity that soured the old biddy? It was a popularity that the cook’s daughter lacked because of her airs and graces, and her aloofness. Perhaps it was also because others resented the favoritism shown to Gytha by Serlo, for servants and villeins alike worked every hour of daylight while Gytha seemed to please herself. She was seldom found in the kitchen, but spent a lot of time sitting beside the well in the yard, or under a sheltering tree, where all might admire her dainty stitching and her efforts at embroidery.

  “…but you’ll see him soon enough.”

  “Who?” Janna realized her mistake as soon as she spoke.

  The cook pursed her lips. “If you are not bothered to listen to me, you’ll have to stay ignorant, John,” she said. “Besides, I haven’t all day to stand here gossiping.”

  “I beg your pardon for delaying you, mistress.” Janna quickly made her escape before the woman relented enough to regale her with another half-hour of malice. Yet she would have liked an answer to her question. The cook’s words had piqued her curiosity.

  “Is someone expected at the manor today? Have you heard anything?” she asked Edwin, once she joined him in the fields.

  Edwin stopped weeding, and leaned on his sticks to ponder the question. “Mayhap the lord? He was supposed to be here in time for the haymaking. It’s late, but they’ll start scything as soon as this rain stops.” Edwin looked worried. “I hope he won’t ask too many questions about us.”

  “Who is the lord?” Janna was surprised to realize that after all this time, she didn’t even know whose manor they were on. Serlo held such firm control over everything, she’d almost forgotten that the manor belonged to someone else.

  Edwin shrugged. “Don’t know his name. Don’t care, so long as he don’t find out who we really are.”

  “I believe he’s quite young and very handsome, although to hear Gytha tell it you’d think he was as ancient as God.”

  Edwin laughed. “He might be as handsome as the devil himself, but it can’t matter to you. You’re a youth, remember?”

  “Oh, he’d be far too busy to look at me, even if I were a young woman,” Janna said cheerfully. “I’m told he has his eye on Gytha, and that Bertha has her eye on him.”

  “What?” Edwin swung around to confront Janna. He took a savage cut into a deadnettle as he waited for her answer.

  “It was just idle gossip. You know what Mistress Tova is like.” Janna remembered how Edwin had sidled up to Gytha when he first saw her, and wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

  “She’s a wicked old crone,” Edwin muttered. Turning his back on Janna, he began to hack into a patch of weeds as if his life depended on eliminating every single one.

  With a sigh, Janna looked about her. No matter how many thistles they uprooted or cut, there were always more to find; she was beginning to think the harvest would be more bountiful if they reaped thistles rather than wheat! Although they used long-handled sticks to cull the tall, prickly weeds, Janna’s hands were scratched and sore. She could feel the sting of their spikes through her smock and breeches whenever she came too close. She hated them! She turned her back on them and, instead, began to cut into a clump of hairy pink corncockle. In the freedom her smock and breeches provided, she’d almost forgotten how it felt to be constrained in a long kirtle. Her past life was beginning to seem more and more like a dream, and yet her quest nagged at her conscience. She needed to find her father. She wanted justice for her mother’s death. Finally, she gave voice to her thoughts.

  “If Master Serlo won’t give us permission to leave the manor, we must ask the lord if we may go.”

  “Master Serlo needs our help with haymaking. He told me so only yesterday.”

  “You work too hard, that’s the trouble.” Janna paused a moment to survey Edwin’s efforts as he slashed through a spiky thistle. “If we were both of us as useless as Gytha, he’d get rid of us tomorrow. Today, even.” She stopped abruptly as she remembered the distress she’d already caused Edwin.

  “Gytha has other uses so far as Master Serlo is concerned,” Edwin said dryly.

  “True enough.” Janna felt slightly reassured that Edwin had come to realize he was wasting his time on Gytha. She decided to jolly him along. “And what is this I hear about Mistress Bertha showing off her legs to you?”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Do you need to ask?” Janna continued before Edwin had a chance to respond. “I’m meant to warn you that she’s a flirty, flighty girl, and that she’ll break your heart.”

  “Mistress Bertha cares nothing for me, whatever Mistress Tova might think!” Edwin’s voice was gruff with embarrassment.

  Janna looked at him. Edwin’s wild, half-starved appearance was gone; he was filling out, becoming a man. He still had a beard, but she realized that at some stage he must have cut his hair, for it was shorter than when she’d first met him. He was also much cleaner and tidier. No wonder young women looked at him when he passed by, although he never stopped long to talk with them, to tease them or flirt with them as they obviously wished he would.

  “You might not stand a chance with Gytha, but I reckon you could have your pick of anyone else if you weren’t so shy,” she observed.

  Edwin flushed. “Look at me!” he countered angrily. “I’m a fugitive from my lord’s demesne. How can I woo a maid when I have nothing to offer her, nothing at all?”

  “That’ll change when you’ve waited out your year and a day.”

  “It may, but I need to get to Winchestre so I can find work and start earning a wage.”

  “Then we might as well get started,” Janna said cheerfully. “We’ll ask the lord’s permission to leave as soon as the opportunity arises.”

  “I’d rather stay until we’re told to go,” Edwin said. “Serlo is a good reeve, far better than my own lord, and we have food and shelter here. Trust me, it’s much more comfortable living here than living wild in field and forest, having to scavenge and steal to stay alive. Besides, Serlo saved us from the forester. We owe him for that.”

  “We’ve already worked hard enough to repay him a hundredfold,” Janna grumbled.

  “More important, it’s much safer for me to stay here, tucked out of sight.” Edwin thought a moment. “It’s not as though you have any real plan to find your father. A few weeks more can’t make any difference either way.”

  Janna gave a grudging nod.

  “Besides, I hear there’s to be a great feast after haymaking is done, with much ale and merrymaking,” he continued. “You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you, even if it means you’ll have to ask a maiden to dance with you?”

  Janna threw back her head and laughed at the thought. Then her gaze sharpened and she straightened abruptly. feeling light-headed with shock. A sleek, black destrier! She could swear she’d seen the horse before, had even ridden on its back. She closed her eyes, remembering how she’d leaned against Hugh on the long ride back to her cottage; how his arms had folded around her to keep her close and safe. Heat suffused her body as she recalled his kiss at the end of the journey.

  She squinted her eyes against the light, trying to see the rider more clearly. He was cleanshaven, with brown, shoulder-length hair. A green cloak almost covered his long tunic. She looked into his dark eyes. Yes, it was, it truly was! Her legs folded under her and she collapsed, faint and giddy with fear. She bent her head to her knees, knowing that the rush of blood would make her feel better. More than anything, though, she needed to hide her identity. Hugh thought she was dead, burned in the fire along with her cottage, and buried by Godric. It was safest for Janna if everyone thought so.

  “What is it? Wha
t’s the matter?” She heard Edwin’s anxious voice through the heavy pounding of her heart.

  “Hide me, Edwin! Stand in front of me.” Janna didn’t raise her head. “The lord Hugh is coming our way. What’s he doing here?”

  “Keep working, or you’ll be noticed.” Edwin hauled Janna upright and spun her around so that her back was turned to the approaching horseman. He, too, bent to his task while keeping a sharp eye on the figure coming toward them. “I’ve seen him before, in the forest,” he commented. “He rides alone, so he must know the way. There’d be a guide with him else.”

  “I suspect he knows the way very well. I suspect he’s done the journey many times.” Janna remembered how Gytha had talked about her lord, and how he would have to give up the manor once the heir came of age. Hugh himself had told her that he was visiting his aunt to report on his custodianship of her property, while his cousin, Hamo, had boasted that in time he would inherit everything. If she’d asked Gytha more questions about the lord, she would have made the connection in time to flee before Hugh’s arrival. Janna berated herself for her stupidity.

  “The lord Hugh has been away visiting his aunt at Babestoche, which is on the other side of this forest,” she said slowly. “Dame Alice must own this manor farm, for Hugh is her nephew and Gytha has told me he’s in charge here until the heir comes of age. Oh, Edwin!” Her voice shook as she looked up at him. “This is the worst possible place we could have chosen to come for shelter!”

  “Have courage,” he murmured, as he bent and began to slice into a patch of nettles. “You are a youth now, remember, and the lord comes very near to us. Keep on cutting weeds or he’ll certainly stop and give you a piece of his mind.”

  Janna quickly moved toward a patch of yellow-flowering charlock. All her senses were alert as she listened to the clopping of the horse’s hooves and the jingle of its bridle. In spite of herself, a slow blush mounted her cheeks.

  Hugh’s cheery voice rang out. “God be with you this day.”

  “God be with you too, sire,” Janna mumbled in reply. She didn’t turn around, but heard Edwin’s voice echo her greeting. To her horror, the sounds had stopped, which meant that the horse had too. She risked a quick glance behind her, unable to resist seeing Hugh once more, but also wondering if he would consider it rude if she ignored him and kept on working.

  “You are strangers to my manor, are you not?”

  Janna waited, her heart thudding, for Edwin to reply.

  “We are, my lord. Your reeve, Master Serlo, gave us shelter in return for our labor. He has asked us to stay and help with the haymaking.”

  “Which is very late.” Hugh cast his eyes skyward, assessing the chance of sunshine.

  “There has been much illness as well as bad weather, sire,” Edwin explained.

  Watching from under lowered lids, Janna saw Hugh nod silently. “Who are you? What are your names?” he asked.

  “I am Edwin, and this is my brother, John.” Janna turned to Hugh. She ducked her head in obeisance and kept it bent to avoid his gaze.

  “And where are you from? Do you have permission from your liege lord to leave his manor?”

  As Edwin launched into an explanation, Janna captured a bristly stem of charlock between her weeding sticks, and felled it.

  “Your young brother seems determined to earn his keep,” Hugh interrupted, sounding amused. Janna did not dare to look at him.

  “He’s young, sire, and shy. But he’s a good worker. Our mother always said that young John here was never at rest until all that was needed was done and done proper.”

  Janna stifled a giggle. Edwin sounded so convincing!

  “I can see your mother was right. I’ll have a word with Serlo when I find him. It may be you can stay on to help with the harvest too. There is always a need for good and willing workers.” The jingle of the bridle told Janna that Hugh was on the move once more. Only when the sounds had faded into the distance did she dare to raise her head and look after him.

  “There, you heard him! He wants us to stay.” Edwin sounded wistful. “I’d like that, John, I really would. Especially if we can also work our way through the bitter months of winter.”

  “Don’t even think about it!” Janna said furiously. “Didn’t you listen when I told you how the villagers set fire to my cottage, with me in it? And how they all now think I’m dead? It’s too dangerous for me to stay here!”

  “You didn’t tell me he had anything to do with it.” Edwin jerked his head in the direction of the dwindling figure of Hugh.

  “No, but—but—” If Hugh found out that she was alive and living on his manor, it would only be a matter of time before Dame Alice and Lord Robert found out too. Janna had managed to escape with her life once; she didn’t intend to take any further chances.

  “But what?” Edwin raised an enquiring eyebrow.

  “He was part of it. Hugh, I mean,” Janna muttered. “It’s not safe for me to stay here.” Even as she said the words, she knew that really she wanted to stay, just to be near him. Coming so close to him again had utterly unnerved her. In spite of her short hair and men’s garb, she longed to see him again.

  Gytha was also longing to see Hugh. The thought quenched Janna’s ardor as efficiently as a bucket of cold water thrown over a fire. It seemed that the lord had a weakness for pretty serving girls, along with the glib tongue to convince them that they were special in his eyes.

  “We have to leave here. We must,” she insisted.

  “We can’t. Not without Serlo’s permission.”

  “He can’t stop us if he doesn’t see us go.” Janna wondered why Edwin was being so obstinate.

  “He can raise the hue and cry after us with the forester and with the shire reeve. I’ve done enough running away, Ja—John. I would rather stay here for as long as we can.”

  Janna was silent, torn between wanting to help Edwin and the need to protect herself.

  “We probably won’t see him again,” Edwin said. “He’ll be far too busy and important to bother with the likes of us, and we can also make sure we stay out of his way. Our dealings are with Serlo, not him. Besides, he doesn’t suspect a thing. In fact, he thinks well of you for being such a hard worker!”

  Janna gave a grudging nod. “Then you must speak for me, and protect me from him,” she conceded, adding fiercely, “but only until our time is up! Then I am going to Winchestre, whether you come with me or not.” She bent to cut into the hated weeds once more.

  Chapter 6

  After her unexpected encounter with Hugh, Janna spent as little time in the hall as possible in case he came in and found her there. She’d break her fast with speed and, while Edwin waited to hear Hugh or Serlo give those villeins on week work their orders for the day, she would hurry to the kitchen and wait for Mistress Tova to pack up dinner and supper in a sack for those who were unable to provide for themselves. Listening to the cook’s tattle meant that Janna was always abreast of what was happening around the manor, along with Mistress Tova’s thoughts about it all.

  Not everything was going smoothly and Mistress Tova had plenty to say. A fox had got into the henhouse one night. The rumpus had woken the servants sleeping in the hall, and they’d rushed down to investigate, but several hens had already been savaged and killed. The maid in charge of feeding them and collecting their eggs had been harshly scolded, although she tearfully repeated over and over again that she was sure, positive, absolutely certain that she’d shut the coop tight for the night.

  Next, a young lamb had been found dead. They’d been put back in their fold for the night, but the lamb’s body was discovered some distance away, although the shepherd said he’d counted them and had stayed close in his little hut all night. The lamb’s carcass was cut and bloody. It was certain that no natural illness or weakness had killed it, while the shepherd swore no wolf could have carried it off without his hearing it. He, too, had felt the sharp edge of Serlo’s tongue.

  On another occasion, cows managed to
escape from their byre and had plunged through a hedge into a field of ripening wheat. Before the hayward could sound the alarm, their hooves and their appetites had destroyed a large portion of new grain, which meant there would be less for the harvest and therefore less to tide everyone over through winter and the hungry months before the next harvest.

  What intrigued Janna most was her suspicion that the incidents had been planned, and for a purpose. Walking past the henhouse on the day after the hens had been savaged, she’d noticed a small posy of rue beside the gate of their run. It had seemed odd at the time, so odd that she’d paid close attention when she found another bunch of rue near the sheepfold after the slaughter of the lamb. It seemed unlikely that the herb had been dropped by accident. Did it mean, therefore, that the perpetrator regretted his acts of violence afterward? Was this his way of saying he was sorry?

  No-one seemed to think anything of it, but Janna didn’t believe in happenstance. Perhaps to the others rue was just a useful herb, but she understood its special significance. “Rue is for repentance,” Eadgyth had told her. “Rue stands for regret.” The bunches of rue must surely mean that there was some reason why these things had happened. But what could it be?

  The question had niggled her so that, after the cows went wandering, Janna searched for rue near the byre. It had taken some finding, for by then the ground around was pooled and muddy and the herb had been trampled underfoot, but Janna found enough scraps to know that rue had been picked and placed there.

  No accident then, but for a purpose. Who was responsible, and why? Janna had a growing suspicion that she knew the answer to the first question, and possibly even the second. She resolved to keep watch, and wait until she had some grounds for accusation. Meanwhile, she hoped with all her heart that her suspicions were wrong.

  Mistress Tova was still talking. “… and these accidents have all occurred since the lord’s return. This sort of carelessness isn’t tolerated when Master Serlo is in charge.” Mistress Tova gave Janna a long and meaningful glance, before adding, “Of course, Gytha is delighted to have the lord home at the manor again, but even so…”