Willows for Weeping (15 page)

Janna made up her mind. 'Don't despair, Winifred. I'm afraid it's gone, but I've got something you can have which may be enough to gain your admission into an abbey.' She gave Ulf's bloodied nose a last careful wipe. She sluiced the rag clean under the pump and handed him the cold, wet cloth. 'Tip your head back and keep this over the bridge of your nose for a little while. It will help to stop the bleeding,' she advised.

She turned her back and, in the darkness, lifted her skirt and carefully drew the small figurine from her purse. 'A pagan idol', Juliana had called it. She must take care not to put any such idea in Winifred's mind.

'This is a precious statue of the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus,' she said firmly.

Ulf squinted down his nose at her with an expression of disbelief. But he didn't say anything.

Winifred stretched out to take the figurine from Janna. She turned it around and over, studying the delicate lines of the carving, and the tender expression on the mother's face. 'It's . . . it's beautiful!' she breathed. 'Where did it come from, Janna?'

Janna hesitated. If she confessed to finding it in the forest, its provenance would become far more suspect. Yet her brain refused to come up with a convincing explanation. Ulf stepped into the breach.

'Didn't you tell me id was given to you as a parding gift by the Abbess of Wiltune?'

'I . . .' Janna's mouth opened, then closed. Dumbly, she nodded.

'And you would give it to me?' Winifred's eyes shone with hope. 'Oh, Janna, thank you!' Impulsively, she flung her arms around Janna and gave her a hug. 'Oh!' She studied the figurine once more, stroking its smooth surface in wonder.

'I hope it will open a door for you.' Janna was busy trying to stifle pangs of regret. 'Perhaps you could try for admission here at Ambresberie. Now, before you lose it and before anything else can go wrong. The abbey seems quite small, and I don't think it's wealthy. The abbess might be glad of something like this to add to their store of valuables. But don't tell her that I gave this to you. In fact, don't mention my name at all.'

'Can we go tonight?' Winifred raised a shining face to Janna, all care seemingly forgotten now that rescue had come her way.

'I am sure there is a guest house attached to the abbey. We could ask for shelter and you can look around at the same time, see what you think.'

'I must make my farewells to the pilgrims before we go.' Winifred danced inside to show off her treasure to the others. Ulf lingered beside Janna. He breathed in a few cautious breaths in an effort to clear his nose, then gave a loud sniff.

'I'm sorry I don't have any plaister or poultice to ease the pain and swelling,' Janna apologised.

'It feels better already,' Ulf assured her. 'Thank you, lass. You're very kind.'

Janna was silent for a moment, feeling regret for the loss of the little statue, and also for the need to tell yet another lie. She turned to Ulf. 'You don't believe what I just said about the mother and child, do you?'

'And you don't believe what I just said about the abbess,' he retorted with a grin.

'But – you're a relic seller. Dealer. Whatever.' Janna couldn't think of the right word to describe Ulf's trade. 'Surely you don't tell lies about your relics? Surely you believe what you tell people?'

'Aye. Maybe. You should know that relics, genuine relics, are very few and far between.'

'And so you help the process along a little?'

Ulf inclined his head, looking grave. 'I don't go so far as some I've met who resort to such tricks as taking severed heads from pikes and cleaning and drying 'em with spices, and touting 'em as relics. I saw one such, and was told it was the head of St John the Baptist!'

'And did you buy . . . make an offering for it?'

'I did not, for I know the fellow well by reputation as a charlatan. Others, I am sure, would have been gulled by him.'

'So the sliver of wood from the cross of Christ? Juliana bought it from you in a bid to keep Bernard safe. Is it a genuine relic, even though it obviously didn't work?'

'I have no reason to believe it isn't genuine. Besides, God doesn't always answer our prayers as we would wish.' Perhaps Ulf read the scepticism on Janna's face. 'Don't be too quick to judge me,' he warned. 'You say you're a healer so you should know, more than anyone, that the power of prayer, of belief, can sometimes do more than any medicament or treatment to heal an affliction. If someone owns a hand, or a scrap of fabric, or a sliver of wood, and believes that it belongs to a saint or to Christ or the Virgin Mary, their comfort and ease comes from the belief that it will heal 'em, and so it often does.'

'Surely their comfort comes from their belief that whoever the relic belonged to will help make things better,' Janna corrected him.

Ulf shrugged. 'I acquire my relics in good faith. But I admit I sometimes take short cuts for a good cause.'

'Such as providing the means to help Winifred gain admission to an abbey? Is that why you lied on my behalf?'

Ulf nodded. 'I'm in the business of providing hope,' he said. 'Without my relics, people would have nowt to comfort or heal 'em, nowt at all.'

It was an effective argument, Janna conceded, and they walked in silence back into the alehouse.

'I believe the figurine that Mistress Winifred is showing everyone once belonged to you?' Ralph questioned, as Janna took a seat beside him once more. 'There seems no end to the treasures you keep in your purse! What else do you have hiding in there, mistress?' There was a teasing twinkle in his eyes, and Janna twinkled back at him.

'I'm sure you'd like to know, my lord, but I am not bound to tell you, for what I carry is none of your business!'

'I'd like to make everything about you my business, lady,' he said gravely.

Janna felt a quick flush of pleasure, until she looked into his laughing eyes and realised he was still teasing her. At a loss, and feeling somewhat discomforted, she raised her hand to beckon over a serving wench to order some supper for herself, then quickly lowered it again as she remembered that her purse was hidden beneath her gown. Her gesture wasn't wasted on Ralph, however. 'Would you like something to eat?' he asked and, before Janna could answer, he beckoned an attentive serving maid and asked for a mug of ale and a bowl of stew to be brought.

'Thank you.' Janna pointed downwards in the direction of her purse. 'I'll repay you as soon as I can,' she promised.

Ralph shook his head in denial. 'I don't need repayment, but you might tell me what it is that you guard so carefully under your skirt.'

Janna flushed crimson as she understood the double entendre. But she would not let him see her discomfort so she kept her head bent and said quietly and with gentle reproof: 'What's mine is precious to me. It's not lightly given away, not to anyone, my lord.'

'Ah, Janna.' He caught her hand. 'Forgive me. I don't mean to tease you, only to help you.' He came closer, so close that the tavern and everyone in it faded from Janna's sight and she became conscious only of him as he leaned forward and lightly brushed her cheek with his lips. 'And you are precious to me,' he murmured. 'More so, I think, than you realise.'

He sat back, and reached for his mug of ale. Janna blinked at him, wondering if it was her own wishful thinking that had conjured up what had just happened. But then Ralph winked at her, and she blushed again, even more deeply than before.

He swallowed some ale and licked his lips. 'If you won't reveal the contents of your purse to me, tell me then what you learned from the good sisters in the abbey.'

Janna muttered her thanks as a bowl of stew and a spoon were placed before her, along with a brimming cup. The serving wench swung her hips and glanced flirtatiously over her shoulder at Ralph as she walked away. Janna was glad to see that Ralph ignored her. She picked up the spoon and, between mouthfuls, began to recount what she'd discovered.

'You already know, because I've told you, what I've found out about my father from his letter to my mother,' she said pointedly, knowing Ralph believed she was still keeping secrets from him. 'But I'm finished here in Ambresberie, because my father didn't come from these parts. In fact, the sisters told me he was travelling with a hunting party.'

Ralph nodded thoughtfully. 'How, then, did he meet your mother?'

'He was taken ill. A fever. My mother nursed him back to health at Ambresberie, and they fell in love.' Janna's voice softened as she imagined how it must have been between them. 'So it seems I must go on now to make my enquiries in Winchestre.'

'If your father's who I think he is, you may well find that he's living in Normandy, not Winchestre.'

Janna caught her breath in surprise. 'So you do know him? You know who he is?'

Ralph smiled at her. 'I cannot and will not say any more. Not for the world would I raise your hopes unnecessarily. But I will do all in my power to see you united with him. You may trust me on this.'

'Oh, I will,' Janna breathed. This was more than she'd dreamed of hearing from Ralph. 'And if my father's in Normandy, I shall follow him there too,' she announced. 'But you are bound for Oxeneford, Ralph. I cannot ask you to go out of your way on my account.' It felt like the death of hope to say it, but she felt obliged to do so.

'I have made your quest my own.' Ralph caught Janna's hand and, before she realised what he was about, he began to kiss her fingers one by one.

She quivered at the touch of his lips, so light against her skin, and so gentle. Yet she sensed the passion in the strength of his grip. She closed her eyes and gave herself to delight, swept away on a sweet flood of feeling that yet was wild and strong enough to drown her in its depths.

They sat close together, heart to heart, for a few moments before Ralph released her hand. He stretched out his long legs and arched his back with a weary sigh. 'But, Janna, let's not leave for Winchestre tonight, I beg you. Tomorrow will be soon enough!' He looked around the table. 'I intend to seek shelter in the guest hall of the abbey tonight,' he said, raising his voice to make himself heard above the general hubbub. 'May I suggest you all come with me? We need a good night's rest after all the troubles and turmoil of this day.'

'Tomorrow, then,' Janna said with some relief, for she was beginning to realise just how exhausted she was. 'Very well.' And she quickly finished off the remains of the vegetable and marrow stew, for there was no telling where their next meal might come from.

IT SEEMED STRANGE to Janna to be sleeping overnight in the abbey that was once her mother's home. Even though she was not in the dorter with the nuns, she knew enough about abbey life from her time at Wiltune to know how it would be, what offices the sisters kept, and how they were expected to behave. It stretched her imagination to think of her outspoken, courageous mother keeping the great Silence and being obedient to the Rule. But perhaps, in her youth, Eadgyth had been devout and obedient? She had certainly cared enough, believed enough, to seek shelter here and offer her services as a healer. The nuns had said she dressed as a lay sister, and had kept the offices. This was not the mother that Janna remembered. What happened to Eadgyth after she'd met Janna's father had changed her for ever.

Winifred was hard put to hide her excitement about being in an abbey and coming so close to the life she'd always wanted. She besieged Janna with questions about everything she saw and heard. Together, they attended Mass in the morning. Janna felt a great nostalgia as she smelled once more the spicy fragrance of incense, and heard the chanting that had been part of her mother's life and, briefly, her own. She stood and knelt on cue, and muttered some of the responses, earning Winifred's astonished respect as she did so.

As they filed out of the small chapel, Janna caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. 'That's Sister Amice,' she said, grabbing Winifred's arm and leading her at a fast trot towards the friendly nun. 'Speak to her first about coming to the abbey as a postulant. She'll listen to your plea more kindly than the abbess, and I'm sure she will support you if you can convince her you're in earnest.'

'Come with me!' Winifred clutched on to Janna as they neared Sister Amice.

'No.' Janna stood her ground. 'This is something you must do alone, Winifred. And don't, whatever you do, don't mention the hand of St James!'

'I won't.' Winifred looked stricken at the reminder. 'Wish me luck?'

Janna crossed her fingers, and held them up with a smile. 'Good luck,' she said. 'God go with you, Winifred.' Now that the time had come, she felt quite sad to say goodbye. If it was goodbye? She lingered beside the chapel to make sure.

With lifted chin signalling her determination, Winifred marched over to Sister Amice. The nun looked up and caught Janna's eye. She gave her a friendly nod, and then turned her attention to Winifred, who had begun to speak. Janna tried to interpret what was happening. Winifred leaned forward, caught up in the passion of her plea. Sister Amice nodded, smiling. Winifred pulled the figurine from her sleeve and held it out. Sister Amice took it, looking somewhat startled. She seemed to draw back a little, and once more she caught Janna's eye. Janna stared at her, willing the nun to accept the gift in the spirit in which it was offered. As if sensing what Janna was thinking, Sister Amice bent her gaze to the figurine. She held it up and turned it around to study it more closely.

She handed it back to Winifred, and Janna's hopes fell in disappointment on Winifred's behalf. But Sister Amice took Winifred's arm and, together, they walked around the corner. Winifred cast one beaming glance behind her before they vanished out of sight. Janna breathed a sigh of relief. It looked as though Winifred had passed the first hurdle at least on her long spiritual journey. Janna hurried back to the guest house to collect her staff and find Ralph.

Suddenly she realised just what it was she was proposing to do. She was about to set off to Winchestre alone in the company of a dashing and most attractive man!

Her heart gave a double skip of excitement, before doubt crept in to spoil everything. You know very little about him, she reminded herself. What if he's just stringing you along with lies about your father? What if he has something else on his mind?

'He is honourable! That's why he insisted that we keep company with the pilgrims for the sake of my reputation,' she argued against herself.

So why isn't he putting forward the same argument this time?

'Oh, shush!' Janna tried to dismiss her unease, but she was quaking with nerves as she approached Ralph. He stood waiting for her among a small group of other travellers who were already packed up with horse and cart, ready for departure.

'Janna!' he said, indicating the group with a sweep of his hand. 'This is Master Thomas and his band of jongleurs. They are bound for Winchestre, and he has invited us to travel with them. I have accepted his kind offer, for it is more seemly for us to travel together in the company of others. I hope you don't mind?'

'No! No, not at all.' Janna beamed her relief at Ralph, then turned her smile on the jongleur. 'Master Thomas,' she said gravely. 'I thank you for your kind offer.'

He took her hand and kissed it with an elaborate flourish. 'The pleasure is ours, mistress,' he said gallantly in the language of the Normans. He released her hand with obvious reluctance. Beside him, his wife bristled with displeasure.

Janna noticed Ulf standing close by with Golde and Morcar, and went across to say her farewells while Ralph fetched his palfrey from the stable.

'Are you not coming on with us, Janna?' Ulf questioned.

'No.' In spite of her doubts about the relic seller, she found herself sorry to say goodbye to him. 'I came to Ambresberie to seek information about my family and I must go on, now, to Winchestre. The jongleurs and . . . and Master Ralph have suggested I accompany them.' She felt her face grow hot under Ulf's critical gaze.

'I suspect you've also lost Winifred, for she is staying on here at the abbey,' she gabbled quickly. She hoped, for Winifred's sake, that she would prove correct. But then she remembered the determined tilt to Winifred's jaw, and smiled to herself. There was really no doubt in her mind about Winifred's future. The young woman's determination had carried her thus far, and would see her through to the end.

'You've lost us too, for we've decided to stay on here a few days in case there's news of Adam,' Golde announced, with a sideways glance at Morcar.

'And we'll continue the search for that devil spawn,' Morcar added grimly.

'So that leaves just me!' Ulf hoisted his pack on his shoulders. 'I think I shall try my luck with you, Janna,' he said cheerfully. 'I'm sure the good people of Winchestre will be interested to see the treasures I carry.'

Without ado, he bade Morcar and Golde a brisk farewell. He whistled to Brutus to follow them, and led Janna towards the jongleurs. 'My name is Ulf,' he introduced himself, and bobbed his head to Master Thomas. 'I deal in relics and I'm sure I'll be an asset to your company.'

'You are welcome, Ulf.' Master Thomas's dubious expression gave the lie to his greeting. And he looked positively frightened when he looked down and realised that Brutus would also be joining the company.

'I have many wonders in my pack that I guarantee will open doors along our journey,' Ulf said with a bright smile, apparently not perturbed by Master Thomas's lack of enthusiasm. 'Once I attract the good folks' interest, you may dance or sing, or whatever it is you do. I feel sure we shall all be made welcome.'

Master Thomas looked even more sceptical. Somewhat reluctantly, he began to introduce the rest of his troupe – his wife Elanor, young son Faldo, and troupe members Nicholas and Jocelin.

Elanor's mouth pursed tight as she looked them over, but Nicholas and Jocelin beamed a welcome. They threw back their shoulders and sucked in their stomachs and tried altogether to make of themselves something more than they were. Janna felt flattered with their efforts on her behalf, and hoped that Ralph had noticed. He, however, was scowling at Ulf, seemingly not pleased that the relic seller had elected to join their party.

'Why's he coming with us?' he mouthed at Janna, jerking a thumb in Ulf's direction.

Janna shrugged and shook her head. It was a good question; one to which she had no answer. But the question stayed in her mind as she found herself keeping company with Ulf as they followed the jongleurs past the abbey walls and out onto the track that would lead them to Winchestre. Was Ulf really as uncomplicated as he appeared? With an effort, she set aside her misgivings and, instead, thought of the journey to come. For the first time since she'd set out, she felt some confidence that the road would lead to her father.

She wondered how far it was to Winchestre. How long before she stood before her father and told him of her existence? Janna smiled to herself as she imagined his surprise to find he had a daughter. Would he welcome her, or would she be an embarrassment to him? Did he already have a wife? And children? That thought quenched her excitement as effectively as a bucket of water thrown over a fire.

She would make him welcome her, she decided, determined to recapture her sense of happy anticipation. She would make her father love her, just as she was prepared to love him.

'What do you know of Master Ralph?' Ulf's voice broke into Janna's musing.

'Why, as much as you do, I suspect,' Janna said, surprised by the question. She glanced at Ralph, who was striding ahead with Master Thomas. They seemed to be sharing a joke for, as she watched, they both laughed heartily. Ralph looked content, she thought; full of energy and purpose.

'Mistress Juliana and I had a long talk after Bernard's death, while I was escorting her to Ambresberie,' Ulf went on. 'A
long
talk.'

Janna wasn't sure quite what he was hinting at. 'A long talk about Adam?'

'About Ralph, among other things. How far do you trust him, Janna?' Ulf's voice was unusually serious.

'Why should I not trust him?' Janna countered. 'Do you know something about him that I don't?'

Ulf shook his head. 'I know nowt for certain. What interests me is why he told us he was bound for Oxeneford, but now comes with you to Winchestre?'

'Why should you question his motives when you're doing exactly the same thing yourself?' Janna said hotly, embarrassed that Ulf might imagine the worst about her and Ralph.

Ulf opened his mouth, but Janna didn't give him a chance to reply. 'Are you not anxious to get home to your family, Ulf?'

'I have no home and no family.' Ulf's voice was gruff and scratchy as he made the admission.

'I thought you lived in Oxeneford?'

'No. I met the pilgrims at the tomb of St James. I decided their presence would lend me an air of respectability.' He cast a worried glance at Janna. 'So you see, I am free to go where my fancy takes me – and my fancy takes me now to Winchestre. Besides, I promised Mistress Juliana that I would do my best to look after you, for she claims –'

'I know what she claims!' Janna said harshly. A vision of Bernard's blood-stained body flashed before her eyes. She blinked quickly to dismiss it.

'She was right to be worried.'

Janna wondered if Ulf's advice was as kindly meant as it sounded. 'It's not what you think about me and Ralph,' she muttered, annoyed at having to explain herself. 'I'm looking for my father and Ralph thinks he knows where he may be found. He's kindly offered to come with me to Winchestre to help me look for him. That's all.'

A sceptical expression crossed Ulf's face. 'If you're sure there's nowt else to it but that.'

Actually, there was a great deal more to it than that! But Janna didn't want to share with Ulf her hope that Ralph's real purpose in travelling with them was to be close to her just as she longed to become closer to him. He had shown himself kind. Honourable. In truth, when she was with him he stirred her senses till she burned as if with a fever. But she would not share those thoughts with anyone, least of all Ulf.

'Is there any news of Adam?' she asked, anxious to change the subject to something less personal.

'Nay, not yet, but the cry has gone out for him.' Ulf was silent for a moment. 'Juliana told me about the message found by Bernard on the dead man. Do you know what became of it, Janna?'

Janna froze into stillness. All her doubts about Ulf came flooding back. 'I know nothing about it,' she said tightly. Anxious to put him off, she continued: 'Master Bernard's scrip is missing. If there was anything of value inside, then Adam will have it.'

'If Adam was the culprit.'

Why should Ulf doubt Adam unless he knew something she did not? Janna was about to ask him when Ulf continued: 'I noticed that you searched Master Bernard's body very carefully. I wondered if perhaps you'd found the bishop's message.'

'If I'd found it, what would you expect me to do with it?' she challenged, hoping to force him to show his hand.

'I'd expect you to take it to the empress, as Bernard intended. But you're going the wrong way.'

'Is that why you're following me?'

'No. I've already explained my reasons for accompanying you and the jongleurs.'

Janna wished she could believe him. 'Who do you support in this battle for the crown?' She waited anxiously for Ulf's answer.

He shrugged. 'Being always on the road as I am, I have found it safer not to have an opinion or take sides.'

Which meant she couldn't trust him. Nor could she trust his explanation for travelling with them. He might well want to keep watch over her but not because Dame Juliana had asked him to do so.

'I looked for the bishop's message, but I didn't find it,' she said curtly. 'So you can go your own way, Ulf. There's no need for you to follow me around.'

Ulf was about to answer when one of the party, a youth, fell into step beside them. 'My name's Faldo,' he introduced himself, even though Master Thomas had already made the round of introductions.

'And I am Janna, and this is Ulf.' She smiled at the youth, glad of the interruption. Ulf's words had left her feeling deeply uneasy.

Faldo had long hair, unusually long for a youth, and a merry smile. He was a few years younger than her, perhaps eleven or twelve, she thought. 'Pray tell me, for I have never met a jongleur before. What is it that you do, exactly?' she asked.

She caught the flash of surprise in his eyes, and knew that she was once again in danger of betraying her humble origins. Then he smiled. 'I sing for my supper at the castles and manors of lords, mistress,' he said. 'So do we all.'