Willows for Weeping (14 page)

'Oh! Oh, how sad.' Sister Marie reached out and took Janna's hand once more, seeking to comfort her.

Janna nodded. Scalding tears leaked into her eyes as she recalled the last time she'd seen her mother and the angry words they had exchanged. 'My mother would not speak of him to me, I think for shame. But she named me after him. And she died with his name on her lips. She never stopped loving him.'

There was a long silence as the nuns contemplated the disastrous end to what had begun with such promise and joy.

'Try not to judge our abbess too harshly.' Sister Marie broke the silence at last. 'Your mother sought shelter at just the wrong time. You see, the bishop was here on a surprise visit. As you might have gathered, our previous abbess was somewhat lax. He came to make sure that we were now scrupulous about obeying the Rule.'

'Even if it was at the expense of Christian kindness and charity!' Sister Amice reminded Janna of her friend Agnes, the lay sister whose clear idea of right and wrong was sometimes at odds with how life was conducted at Wiltune Abbey. They would have got on well together, Janna thought.

'He certainly did his best to catch us out in wrongdoing or laxness of any sort,' said Sister Marie. 'He was particularly meticulous and careful in his catechising. Each and every one of us was interrogated separately, and punished severely for even the slightest of misdemeanours or imaginary sins.'

'So you can imagine how difficult it would have been for the abbess to explain a pregnant infirmarian in our midst,' Sister Amice interrupted once more.

'And so your mother was castigated and sent on her way in disgrace,' Sister Marie continued. 'If the bishop was impressed by our abbess's strict discipline we never heard of it, but the rest of us were outraged by the treatment meted out to your mother, and we told the abbess so in no uncertain terms.'

'After the bishop had left,' Sister Amice interposed.

'By which time your mother had vanished, and it was too late to make amends.' Sister Marie pressed Janna's hand in her own. 'Now that I've met you, I regret our cowardice even more,' she said softly. 'After the kind and loving service your mother gave us, we should all have stood behind her and insisted that the abbess offer her shelter, at least until her time was come and you were born.' She released Janna's hand and stood up, indicating that their meeting was over. 'I shall raise the matter in chapter tomorrow,' she promised.

Janna shrugged. 'My mother's dead. It's too late, now, to make amends.'

'I shall pray for her soul.'

'As shall I,' said Sister Amice.

'She'll need your prayers,' Janna said, her voice suddenly rough with fury. 'Our village priest refused to bury her, and so she lies in unhallowed ground and in an unmarked grave at Berford.'

'But . . . why unhallowed?'

'After you turned her away, and after the treatment she received from the abbess of Wiltune, she turned her back on the church.' Let them understand what effect their lack of kindness had on Eadgyth, Janna thought angrily. 'My mother never lost faith in God, but she lost faith in those who professed to carry out His work here on earth in His name.'

A shocked silence followed her explanation. It was broken by Sister Marie. 'And I shall also be speaking of this in chapter tomorrow,' she said. 'I shall do all in my power to have your mother's body disinterred and reburied in hallowed ground. We might even bring her here if the priest proves obdurate. After all, this was her home for a while and she served us faithfully. We did her a great disservice in life. At least let us honour her life in death. She deserves no less from us.'

'The abbess won't agree to it,' Janna pointed out.

Sister Marie gave her a long, cool stare. 'You may leave the abbess to me,' she said. Janna wondered what power the tiny nun could possibly wield other than her great age. But perhaps that was enough in a place such as this?

She thanked the two sisters, and Sister Amice led her out to the heavy door that closed them off from the world outside.

'I am truly sorry for all the hardship that befell your mother, and for our part in making her life so much more difficult than it should have been,' she said as she opened the latch.

Janna could not offer forgiveness, but she could remember the courtesy that Eadgyth had taught her. 'Thank you for taking the time to tell me what you know,' she said in return.

She was thoughtful as she walked from the abbey towards the town. She'd learned some interesting facts about her parents, including several things of vital importance. Her mother had never taken her vows. Janna was pleased to have that mystery cleared up, for she'd worried about how her father had so far forgotten himself as to seduce a nun. In her heart of hearts, she'd found it hard to feel respect for him, yet all had been made clear now. Her mother had never been a nun, and had loved her father as he had loved her. It warmed Janna to think of it. More important, for her purpose, was Sister Marie's confirmation that her father had property in Winchestre. She had learned all she was likely to learn here in Ambresberie. She would waste no time, now, in setting off for Winchestre.

But first, there was Winifred's problem to sort out. Janna thought of the figurine she had found in the forest. If Ulf was not prepared to return the sacred relic and share the reward with Winifred, would the figurine be enough of a dowry for Winifred to gain a place at Ambresberie? Janna still wore her purse outside her gown. She untied it and pulled out the small statue of the mother and her child, marvelling anew at the sweet expression of the mother and how tenderly she cradled her child. She would be sorry to give up the figurine for it had brought her great comfort along her journey. But perhaps it had served its purpose. She'd already learned much about her family that she hadn't known before. Perhaps now it was time to pass on its healing power to someone else. If the figurine was enough for Winifred to gain acceptance, once she was inside the abbey she could leave the relic somewhere safe to be found. Janna was sure the abbess would be delighted to claim the reward for the missing hand.

Janna nodded to herself. It was a good plan. She would share it with Winifred just as soon as she found them all. She thrust the figurine back into her purse and then, conscious of the need to keep everything safe, she ducked behind a bushy cover to secure her purse under her gown once more.

There was no sign of the pilgrim band in the streets, although she walked around for some time looking for her fellow travellers. Eventually she spied a bush hanging from a post outside a sizeable cottage, and turned her steps towards it. As she'd suspected, it was an alehouse. Several horses were tethered outside. She thought she recognised Ralph's palfrey among them.

The alehouse was brimming with people, all pushing and shoving to get a seat and a mug of home brew inside them. Janna paused on the threshold, breathing in the smoky air and squinting her eyes through the haze to look for the pilgrims. She decided she would stop here even if she couldn't find them, for she was hungry and thirsty. She stepped inside and saw the pilgrims huddled at a table at the back. As she walked across to them, she noticed they were all present save for Juliana.

As soon as Ralph caught sight of her, he shifted over, pushing Winifred further along the bench. Janna perched on the edge of the seat beside him.

'Did you see anyone useful? Did you find out what you wanted to know?' he asked in a quiet mutter, after Janna had greeted them all.

'Yes.' She was grateful for his ready interest. 'And most important, you were right! Although they didn't know much about my father, it seems that he has property in Winchestre. So that's where I must seek him.'

Ralph nodded thoughtfully. 'It's as I thought.'

'What did you think?' Janna asked eagerly.

He shook his head and smiled an enigmatic smile. 'Just leave it with me,' he advised. 'I don't want to get your hopes up, not until I've made some enquiries.'

'My lord! You do try my patience.' Janna gave his arm a playful punch.

He caught her hand and held it. Once more she felt mesmerised by his blue gaze. 'Trust me,' he said softly. 'I'll help you find him, I promise.'

Janna sat quietly. Her mind was whirling with all she had learned. Her emotions were also in turmoil. Ralph sat close, pressed to her side in the crush of people. She was acutely aware of him, of his regard, of his promise. What could it mean? Excitement distracted her from the hum of conversation around the table, but finally a name caught her attention. 'Juliana?' she repeated, pressing her mouth close to Ralph's ear so that he could hear her above the din. 'Where is she?'

'She has gone on with her son's body to Oxeneford.'

'What about Ulf?' Janna looked for him down the table. He caught her eye and nodded. She'd never seen him look so careworn before.

'He returned, with my horse. Mistress Juliana made other arrangements to transport Bernard's body.'

There was a roar of laughter from a bunch of drunken youths close by. Two of their number came reeling towards them and crashed against their table, bursting into high giggles when they saw what they'd done.

'Watch where you're going!' Ulf shouted, throwing out his hands to try and catch the goblets and trenchers that skidded across the table. The youth in front grinned at him and nudged his companion, who was now busy trying to clear enough space to sit down beside Janna on the bench. Caught off-balance, he lurched sideways.

'Go away!' Janna gave him a push just in time to prevent him from collapsing onto her lap. His companion caught his arm, and heaved him back onto his feet. The two of them continued on their merry way, leaving the pilgrims grumbling in protest at the mess on the table. Drinks had spilled, some into their supper so that their trenchers were now soggy with ale. It left an unappetising mess to be cleaned up, and Ralph jumped up to summon a servant.

While Ralph was busy supervising the young woman, making sure she removed every spill, Janna leaned over to Winifred. 'Did you talk to Ulf?' she whispered. 'What did he say?'

Winifred's hand automatically went to her purse. Janna watched her face turn ashen as she desperately patted down the sides of her gown, looking for it. Her groping hands found her girdle and she untied it and held it up, displaying the neat cut where the purse had once hung. 'It's gone!' She stared at it as if unable to believe the evidence of her own eyes. 'My purse!' she wailed. 'It's gone.'

Janna had seen a cutpurse in action before, and realised at once what had happened. 'Go after those two young drunkards,' she shouted down the table at Ulf. 'They've got Winifred's purse.' She knew Ulf would understand the extent of Winifred's loss. 'Hurry!' she said urgently, as Ulf hesitated.

He jumped up and pushed his way through the crowd in pursuit of the thieves. Janna turned her attention back to Winifred. 'Let's make sure it hasn't fallen under the table,' she said, knowing that it was probably hopeless but determined, nevertheless, to make sure. She ducked down, already regret-ting her impulse as she saw what awaited them. The straw under the table was filthy with old bones and scraps of food that added their stink to the smelly boots of the pilgrims. Janna tried to hold her breath as she felt about. As she'd feared, there was no sign of the purse at all. She straightened and faced Winifred.

The young woman was rigid with fear, almost beyond thought. 'What shall I do, Janna?' she whispered. 'Oh God in His mercy, what shall I do?'

'Did you carry valuables in your purse, mistress?' Morcar asked sympathetically.

'No! No, only . . .' She looked towards Janna, at a loss.

'Only some few things to remind Winifred of her home,' Janna said firmly. She looked about for Ulf, praying for his success in returning the purse to Winifred. But it was some time before he returned, and then it was with a rueful expression and a bloody nose.

'They didn't dake kindly to by accusation,' he said thickly. 'I did by best to search them, but . . .' He touched his nose, looking thoroughly sorry for himself.

Winifred shut her eyes, too miserable even to thank him for his trouble.

'Come outside with me.' Janna laid her hand on Ulf's arm. 'I'll clean that up for you. You come too, Winifred.' She didn't trust the young woman's discretion, but knew it would do no good for the truth to come out now.

'Have you got an old rag of some sort?' she asked Ulf, as they came to a water pump beside a horse trough. He nodded and pulled a small package from his pack, which he carefully unwrapped. Janna couldn't see what the wrapping concealed, for Ulf was quick to secrete the treasure in his scrip. She took the piece of homespun from him and sluiced it under the spout.

'Have you spoken to Ulf, Winifred?' she asked, as she began to clean the worst of the blood from around Ulf's nose.

'About the hand? Yes, I have, although I had the devil's own difficulty shaking Master Ralph from my side before I could say anything. I didn't want
him
knowing about it too! It was shaming enough just talking to you about it, Ulf.' She winced in sympathy as he suddenly shouted, 'Ouch!'

'Sorry!' Janna began to dab more gently at Ulf's swollen nose. 'So what did you decide?'

'We agreed to take the hand to Ambresberie Abbey together and ask the abbess to return it to Wiltune. Ulf was going to claim the reward for its return, and I was going to ask for a place in the abbey.' Winifred began to cry as she realised that the relic was truly gone, and her hopes for the future with it.

Ulf nodded gingerly, wincing as the movement jarred against the cloth in Janna's hand. 'Bud I hab sub udder thigs ib by bag.'

'What?' Winifred stared at him through her tears.

'In his bag?' Janna indicated Ulf's pack. 'I think he's saying he's got some other things in there.'

'Relics, you mean? But . . . I can't afford to give you an offering, Ulf. I've got nothing, don't you understand? I've got nothing to give you in return!'

Ulf shrugged. 'There bay be a way . . .' he began, but Winifred interrupted him.

'I stole the hand from the reliquary, but my sin is doubled for now I have lost a precious relic! Nothing I do can ever make up for that. I am doomed, damned for ever!' she cried. 'Those drunken sots! They can have no idea what it is they've stolen. The hand of St James . . . oh!' She shuddered as she envisaged its fate.