Willows for Weeping (23 page)

Janna tilted her head at Ulf, for she needed him to accompany her. Reluctantly, he closed his pack. 'I'll show you my treasures on the way out,' he promised the guard, while beside him Janna made a mental note that he would do no such thing.

There was a massive motte at each end of the bailey. The northern motte, close to the West Gate, was topped by a high stone keep that dominated its surrounds. Backing onto the wall, and close to the gate through which they'd just entered, were barns, sheds, stables and a smithy. A royal hall and apartments spread before them, separate from and in front of the motte and keep. Ulf steered Janna towards them. This time he had a small box ready in his hand as they approached the entrance.

'Here's something that may interest you,' he told the doorkeeper. As Janna whisked through behind him and kept on going, she heard Ulf expanding on how the man's love life would improve if only he had St Valentine's tooth to intervene on his behalf.

'St Valentine is the patron saint of lovers,' Ulf explained, with a hearty nudge into the man's ribs to emphasise his point. Valentine? Janna couldn't help wondering if Ulf made up the names of the saints as well as the merits of their so-called relics.

She squared her shoulders and walked into the hall with a confident air, hoping that everyone would assume she had every right to be inside the castle, although she wasn't quite sure what to say if questioned. Servant? Wife? Hostage? Concubine? She grinned to herself, thinking it fortunate that the castle's occupants seemed more concerned with breaking their fast than asking her business. Servants scuttled about, busy with chores, but they paid her no mind and Janna did her best not to attract their notice. She had no idea where she was going, but thought that if this castle was anything like the castle at Sarisberie she would probably find the earl upstairs in a private chamber. She looked about for a staircase and, finding it, ran up the stairs as fast as she could.

The stairs opened into a solar, comfortably furnished with table, stools and a couple of chests. Dishes, food and a jug of ale were set out on the table ready for the lord to break his fast. The walls were painted with decorative scenes. Embroidered tapestries, placed to keep out the worst of the draughts, added their own bright splashes of colour. The solar was empty. Janna crept forward and cautiously peered into the room beyond. There seemed no-one there either and so she stepped inside, curious to see what a lord's bedroom looked like.

'You! What are you doing in here?' A man dropped the straw pallets he was busy stacking and sprang out in front of her, barring her way. 'How dare you enter the earl's private quarters.'

'I beg your pardon, sire.' Janna answered him in Norman French, as befitted the occasion. She dropped a meek curtsy, all the while staring at the huge bed that dominated the room. She gave an envious sigh as she noted the luxurious hangings that partly shrouded the feather bolster at its head, the puffed mattress, the fine white linen sheets and blue- and red-dyed coverings. Truly, one would sleep soundly every night in such a bed!

'Go on, get out of here!' The earl's man servant grasped her arm and gave her a push. With an effort, Janna gathered her scattered wits together. 'I have urgent news for my lord, the Earl of Gloucestre,' she said, resisting the manservant's efforts to get rid of her. 'I must talk to him without delay.'

'I don't know how you gained entrance to my lord's chamber.' The man servant still had Janna's arm in his hard grasp. 'But you can get out again right now.'

'Oh, leave the girl be, Joss.' The voice came from a side opening in the wall. A man stepped out of the garderobe, adjusting the elaborately embroidered cuffs on his tunic as he came towards her. Somewhat disconcerted, Janna realised she'd almost caught him getting dressed. He was dark-visaged and bearded, and he surveyed her with a quizzical expression. Robert, Earl of Gloucestre, half-brother of the Empress Matilda. He was alive, unharmed, and free!

Janna felt a great relief as she sank deep into another curtsy. She waited for the earl to give her permission to rise. His eyes had widened at the sight of her, but he said nothing, merely stuck out a hose-clad foot. His man servant hastily produced a pair of leather shoes with pointed toes and knelt before him. The earl continued to scrutinise Janna as his shoes were strapped to his feet and fastened at his ankles with silver buckles.

Janna began to feel increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze. She was deeply conscious of her travel-stained, mudspattered gown, and suspected she was only moments away from eviction.

'My name is Janna, sire,' she said quickly, anxious to explain her presence in the earl's chambers. 'Johanna,' she amended, thinking her proper name more impressive. She stood up, frightened that she'd overbalance and fall over if she stayed in a curtsy for too much longer.

'And you have urgent news for me?' There was an expression of disbelief on the earl's face as he continued to inspect her closely. 'Who are you?' he demanded unexpectedly.

'Johanna, sire.' Janna's heart sank. If the earl was so witless he couldn't even remember her name from one instant to the next, what chance did she have of convincing him of the bishop's treachery? 'I am nobody important,' she hurried on, 'but I was travelling with a group of pilgrims recently. We came across a dead man in possession of a message written by the Bishop of Winchestre.'

The earl's disbelief was replaced by an expression of utter incredulity. 'Yes?' he said cautiously.

'The man had met his death through an accident, no more than that. But sire, the message was addressed to the bishop's brother. The king.'

'You may leave us, Joss.' The earl waited until they were alone before gesturing to Janna to continue. She couldn't tell whether or not he believed what she was telling him as she hurried through her explanation. She could only trust that he wasn't too stupid to understand that the bishop had been against the empress right from the start and that he would know what to do about it.

But the earl surprised her with his grasp of the situation. 'I already know the contents of the letter,' he said, after she expressed her fear that it hadn't yet reached him. 'Walter brought it to my chamber yesterday evening.'

Janna sagged with relief, releasing tense muscles she hadn't realised were strained so tight. Walter had reached the earl first in spite of Ralph's pursuit! But the danger was by no means over. Once Ralph told the bishop what had happened, he would know then that his treachery was betrayed and that he must act to protect himself. She must warn the earl, and Walter too, that the bishop's plot was uncovered and his agent on their trail.

Not brave enough to interrupt the earl, she forced herself to patience as he continued. 'Walter told me he'd ridden hard to bring the message to me without delay and to beat the curfew, but he did not say where he'd come from, or who had given him the message. So I thank you, Johanna, for coming to see me yourself. Tell me, how do you know what Bishop Henry said in his letter?'

Janna gulped. She had no idea what the punishment was for reading a letter not intended for her eyes, even though she'd done it with the best of intentions. 'Er . . .' She scratched around for a likely excuse. 'Er . . .'

To her relief, the earl didn't wait for her answer. 'And why should you suspect that something might have happened to Walter along the way to prevent him from bringing it to me?'

A sudden understanding of what she'd unleashed fell on Janna's shoulders with a force that almost crushed her. She lifted her chin and tried to summon up the courage to answer him truthfully. She hadn't given enough thought to the consequences of speaking so freely, and now she was trapped for, if she told the earl what he wanted to know, she would at the same time condemn the man who had promised to help her find her father.

'A stranger joined our pilgrim group some time after we encountered the dead man and found the message on his body. The stranger told us he was a pilgrim and he travelled with us thereafter,' she began. With all her heart she wished that she could stop right there. But the earl was waiting for an explanation. If she did not give it, he and Walter might fall into a trap and meet their deaths because of it.

'His name is Ralph de Otreburne,' she continued reluctantly. Earl Robert gave a slight nod. It was clear he'd heard the name before. 'Walter questioned if I knew of him. I suspect he believes that his brother may have died at Ralph's hand.'

'Has this Ralph de Otreburne come in pursuit of Walter? Is that why you feared something might have happened to Walter along the way?'

'Yes, my lord.' Janna's words came out in a whisper. She would have given just about anything to be anywhere but here.

'And how does he know that Walter has the message?'

'He . . . found out.' Janna blushed with angry shame. 'As soon as he realised that I'd given Master Walter the message and that he was bound for Winchestre, he set off in pursuit.'

'Then we must warn Walter that the bishop's agent is looking for him,' the earl agreed.

'Yes, but there is also danger to yourself, sire,' Janna pointed out. 'If the bishop comes to understand that his treachery is known, he may well act against you, knowing that he has nothing to lose and everything to gain if you become his prisoner.'

'Yes, indeed.' The earl nodded thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving Janna's face. She shifted her weight from one foot to another, not sure if she should go now or wait to be dismissed. Or did the earl want to interrogate her further?

He summoned his man servant then, who at once fumbled in his purse and drew out several silver coins. Janna put her hands behind her back and stepped away. She hadn't expected to be rewarded, and felt embarrassed that the earl could think that was the reason behind her warning.

'Take it,' the earl advised. 'You've earned it. And have no fear, mistress. I haven't been idle since learning of the bishop's treachery. I had intended to visit the bishop today and force him to sign a public declaration of support for my sister, so buying time while I return to Oxeneford to muster our troops. After what you've told me, I must rethink this situation. But you need have no concern for Walter. He will be warned of the peril he faces from this Ralph de Otreburne. The bishop's agent will be found and brought to trial for treason, as well as for the murder of Walter's brother. Has Walter met this man? Does he know him by sight?'

'No, sire, not really. He has but seen him once. I don't know if he would recognise him again.' Janna knew she should volunteer to help look for Ralph, but every instinct screamed against it. Her heart felt leaden with grief at the very thought of Ralph in chains, or worse, suffering torture and death.

'But you must know the bishop's agent well, for you say he travelled with you for a time. I would ask you to keep company with Walter until he leaves Winchestre, just to ensure his safety. Come with me.' Without waiting for a reply, the earl set off towards the stairs, snatching the coins from his man servant as he passed. These he thrust directly into Janna's hand. Not daring to defy him, she kept hold of them, slipping them up her sleeve for safekeeping. Thirty pieces of silver, she thought, hating what the earl had asked her to do. With all her heart she wished that she could find a way out of it.

'Where is your home, Johanna?' the earl asked, as he led the way down the stairs to find Walter.

'I come from Berford, near the Forest of Gravelinges, sire. My mother was a
wortwyf
there. A herb wife,' Janna amended, in case the earl didn't understand the language of the Saxons.

'And who is your father?'

Janna blushed, ashamed to tell him the truth. Yet she wasn't brave enough to lie to an earl.

'I know not, sire,' she admitted, shame-faced.

He swung to face her. She could read the questions in his eyes. He seemed about to say something, then checked himself and shrugged. He walked on, with Janna following him. She wanted to ask him what action he would take against the bishop, but dared not. It was with difficulty that she held her tongue.

'Walter!' The earl's bellow brought everyone in the hall instantly to attention. Janna looked about but could not see Walter among the crowd. She was relieved to note that most of the hall's occupants were soldiers all still breaking their fast. It seemed that the earl had brought with him a sizeable guard.

'Walter!' the earl bellowed again, when no-one came forward in answer to his summons. He began to move between the soldiers, peering about for the missing man. 'He was here last night,' he said over his shoulder to Janna.

She wondered if Walter was hiding for some reason. She felt sick as she recalled Juliana's anxious foreboding. Where was Walter, if not already dead and by Ralph's hand?

'Get yourselves ready and wait for my instructions,' the earl commanded. 'And you!' He beckoned one of the soldiers forward. 'Raise the cry after one Ralph de Otreburne, for he is guilty of murder and must pay the price for it. What does he look like?' He swung around to confront Janna.

Janna had thought she felt as bad as it was possible to feel. But she was wrong. This was much, much worse, for now she was being forced to choose between love and honour, between conscience and her own interests, between a killer and a future queen. Whatever she chose, she would have to live with the consequences. Yet she knew that the choice had already been made for her, and that the consequences would tear her apart and destroy all her hopes for the future.

JANNA WANTED TO weep, to scream, to run away and pretend that none of this was happening. She struggled to control her emotions. Ralph had betrayed her and now she, in turn, was about to betray him. She was under no illusion about what she was being asked to do: give the earl's men a descrip-tion so that they could hunt Ralph down and, if necessary, kill him. It took all of her strength to speak, to force the words of betrayal from a throat gone dry and aching with grief.

'He wears a dark green cloak, my lord, and a red linen tunic with embroidery here, here and there.' She indicated her neck, sleeves and hem. 'He wears fitted breeches and fine leather boots. His hair is long and fair, and his eyes are blue. He has a moustache.' She raised her hand to stroke her upper lip, indicating its shape and size. 'And a short beard.'

'I see you know him well,' the earl said dryly, twisting the knife deeper into Janna's heart. The soldiers smirked as they looked at her. She wished, suddenly and desperately, that it was within her power to click her fingers and just disappear.

The earl turned his attention back to his men, who instantly stiffened to attention under his steely gaze. 'Get out and look for Ralph de Otreburne,' he barked. 'If he couldn't reach the bishop last night, it may be that we can still intercept him. Also watch out for Walter, and warn him that he was followed to Winchestre. He'll know what to do. Be ready to wait on me at noon, when I myself will call on the bishop. We'll leave Winchestre straight afterwards.' He turned and jerked his head, indicating to Janna that she should precede him from the hall.

'I will also send the castle servants out to look for Walter,' he told Janna, not troubling to disguise his concern. 'May I suggest that you accompany them, mistress?'

'I will gladly go in search of Master Walter, my lord,' Janna agreed, 'but please, will you give me leave to go straight away? Every moment's delay is a moment wasted.' Should she look for Ralph as well as Walter? She felt sickened by what she'd just done. What would she do if she saw him? Would she warn him that the cry had been raised against him? Her stomach churned, her heart and mind were wrenched with grief.

'Very well, you may go.' The earl was about to stride away when Janna's concern for his safety got the better of her.

'My lord,' she said impulsively, and then stopped, overcome by the enormity of her folly.

He paused, and gave her an enquiring look. Janna debated just running away, but decided she had nothing to lose now by brazening it out.

'The bishop. You cannot trust him, my lord! Once he finds out that his treachery is known, you'll be in the gravest danger. The bishop won't change sides, no matter what he might tell you.'

'How dare you!' The earl's face darkened into fury. Yet something stopped him from berating her for her impudence. Janna watched as his eyes narrowed into careful scrutiny once more. 'Who are you?' he asked again.

'Johanna, sire.' Janna was getting a little tired of this.

'You remind me . . .' Janna waited for him to say the empress's name, and had her explanation ready on her lips.

'Of my father,' the earl said unexpectedly.

'My lord?' Janna lifted one eyebrow, hardly feeling flattered to be compared to a man even if he was a king!

Unexpectedly, the earl grinned. 'A trick of the light,' he said. 'You are exceedingly impertinent, Johanna, but you interest me greatly. And you haven't yet told me how you know what the bishop said in his letter.'

Janna groaned inwardly. 'I read it, sire,' she confessed.

'You can read?' The earl stared at her. Janna wanted to run, to escape the wrath she was sure was about to fall on her head. She took a deep breath, and stood her ground.

'I spent a year in an abbey, sire. Wiltune Abbey.' She'd already said too much. She had nothing left to lose, so she might as well go all the way, she thought. 'I saw your sister there, sire,' she blurted out. 'The empress. I was thought to resemble her as well.' That would teach him to compare her to the old king!

'By God, so you do,' he said softly, and stepped closer.

'I admire her greatly, sire, and I would do anything, anything at all, to help her onto the throne.' Janna was sure now that she had burned all her bridges and that the earl's fury would blast her away. But he stood silent for a moment, still watching her.

'We may well call on you to honour that promise, one day,' he said quietly. 'But for now I have other things on my mind, including your warning about the bishop! We shall see what he has to say for himself. And I shall call him to account, you may be sure of it. But I shall now have all my soldiers at my back to guard me while I do so.' With a curt farewell, he strode off, leaving Janna to find her own way out of the castle.

She almost flew out of the hall, so great was her relief at escaping unscathed. Agitation mingled with exhilaration. She had stood up to an earl, and had lived to tell the tale! She couldn't wait to tell Ulf what she'd done.

But what had she done? Condemned Ralph to be hunted like an animal, hunted and put to death. Crushing guilt and sorrow returned like a dead weight. Her shoulders slumped under the burden of her distress.

Ulf came to meet her, obviously hoping to show off his relics within. His face fell when she insisted that he turn around and accompany her. 'We have to find Walter and warn him about Ralph,' she said, after she'd told him something of her meeting with Earl Robert. 'You can come back with your relics some other time.'

To her relief, Ulf nodded. 'You've got a nerve talking to an earl like that,' he said admiringly, as they skirted a well and continued across the bailey.

Janna felt a momentary pride, but the sick feeling came back as the urgency of their search pushed all other consider-ations from her mind. 'I've told them about Ralph,' she confessed miserably. 'They've gone in search of him. They'll kill him, Ulf, and it's all my fault.'

'How in the name of the good Lord God do you work that one out?'

'I had to describe him to the earl's men.'

'Good,' Ulf said briskly. 'That'll be one less piece of vermin on the street!'

Janna gasped in shock. Ulf shrugged. 'It was Ralph's choice to involve himself in the bishop's affairs. And it was his choice to lie and cheat and kill to achieve his ends. You've done nowt, lass, except call him to account for what he's done all by himself. He's murdered a good and innocent man, remember, and may kill another if we don't get to Walter first. Don't torment yourself for he's not worth a whit of your care.'

'Bernard's only dead because I told Ralph about the letter in the first place,' Janna admitted in a small voice. Ulf glanced sideways at her, but made no comment.

'Not everything about the letter; I just hinted that there was one.' But Janna knew there was no excuse for her action, none at all. Ulf continued to watch her.

'If I hadn't said anything, Bernard would still be alive.' It was like worrying a sore tooth, Janna thought. She couldn't stop thinking about it.

Ulf sighed. 'Don't take too much of the blame on yourself, Janna. Just think on this. Ralph must have heard about the death of the bishop's messenger, and would have taken care to view his body at Wiltune and also search it. He knew the letter had gone and that you and Bernard were first on the scene. That was why he followed us. Really, there's no mystery about it. He would have known that one or other of us had the message. You just made it a bit easier for him to find out who, that's all. He would have worked it out soon enough for himself.'

Janna was silent as she thought about Ulf's words. They eased the ache in her heart, but only slightly. She was still silent as they came to the gatehouse that would take them directly into the town.

'You can't pass here.' A guard stepped into their path, blocking their way.

'I am a relic seller.' Ulf was about to unshoulder his pack, but the guard's upthrust arm made him pause.

'A relic seller? Then you will pass through the West Gate like everyone else, and pay your dues just the same as any other trader.'

'I could show you wonders . . .' Ulf began, eager not to have to retrace their steps, but even more eager to ingratiate himself with the guards of the castle.

'Get on your way!' The man flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture, as if sweeping muck off the streets.

Ulf looked at him. The guard stared back. Ulf was the first to look away. 'Come, Janna,' he said curtly. 'We're wasting our time here.' He turned and stomped off, muttering something under his breath that sounded as if he believed the guard's mother had slept with a pig.

Smothering a grin, Janna followed him. Once at the gate through which they'd first entered, Ulf wasted no time in hefting his pack off his back and opening it.

'No!' Janna swatted it closed with an impatient hand.

'Hoy! You said you'd show me something special,' the guard said indignantly, as she dragged the reluctant Ulf through the gate.

'I'll be back!' Ulf shouted the promise. Janna managed a watery grin. She had no doubt that he would.

They followed the line of the ditch, the high walls and earthen ramparts that guarded the town until they came to the mighty gate that served as a portal for all roads from the west and north. Janna left the talking to Ulf, who had been to Winchestre before and who greeted the surly gatekeeper like a long-lost friend. It seemed the man resented being dragged from his bed upstairs to open the gate every morning. Even the presentation of a tin scallop shell 'from the tomb of St James of Compostela' failed to curb his grumbling, although it did serve to take the place of a toll.

Janna was a little taken aback when the gatekeeper mistook them for father and daughter, but Ulf made no effort to correct his mistake. 'So,' she said, as they passed through the gate and looked down at the town spread before them. 'You know Winchestre, or so you say. Where should we start our search for Master Walter?'

Ulf pointed down the street on which they were standing, which sloped towards the centre of the town. It was paved with flints, but narrow. A gutter ran along its centre, seemingly a repository for animal bones, scraps of rotten vegetables and other bits of detritus. A couple of mangy dogs scavenged about. They growled when they noticed Brutus, but quickly retreated when the huge dog began to chase them. Ulf whistled the alaunt back to his side.

'We can cover more distance if we search separately,' he continued, and gestured down the length of the street. 'This is the High Street. It becomes Chepe Street further down where all the shops and traders are, and it runs right through the town to the East Gate on the other side. Why don't I take one side of the street and you the other?'

'What if Walter's already dead? What if we're too late?' Janna gave voice to what she most dreaded.

'I doubt anything's happened to him,' Ulf comforted her. 'Not yet, anyroad. He obviously came straight to the earl, and it sounds as if the earl expected him still to be within the castle.'

'Why, then, do you think he left without asking the earl's permission?'

Ulf shrugged. 'He may have wanted to get back to his family in Oxeneford. Or take a message back to the empress that the bishop's letter has been found. Or go to Sarisberie to be with his mother while Adam is interrogated.'

'Adam!' Janna had forgotten all about him in her anxiety over Ralph and Walter. 'He's innocent of Bernard's death. We have to let them know at Sarisberie!'

'Aye. Adam is innocent of this crime at least.' Ulf patted Janna's arm, seeking to allay her anxiety. 'Walter will know what to do. If we can't find him, then I'll go back to Sarisberie myself. I'll talk to the constable and to Dame Juliana. They can decide what's to be done with Adam.'

Janna could take no comfort from Ulf's promise. She felt tense and anxious. A dreadful foreboding clouded her mind, a dark shadow that she could not banish. 'Death follows you,' Juliana had told her. And so it had. First the courier, although his death had been an accident. Bernard had also died. Was Juliana now going to lose another son because of her? She trembled at the thought that she was to blame, and that she might already be too late to stop it. As for Ralph: he was now a hunted man. Would he die too, because of her?

'Janna.' Ulf took her arm, concern creasing his forehead. 'Watch out for Ralph. Be careful not to cross his path. If you see him you must hide, for he knows that you also have knowledge of the letter. That makes you dangerous to him.'

Stricken, Janna stared at Ulf. He was right to warn her, she knew that. But it was hard, so hard to turn off the regard she'd once felt for Ralph. She was filled with anguish as she remembered the kisses they'd shared, and the love in his voice when he spoke of his family. Nor could she forget his promise to help her solve the mystery of her father. A worthless promise? Or truly meant, even if he was making use of the circumstances?

Ulf padded off and was soon lost to view. Unsure what to do or where to start looking, Janna began to stroll slowly along, hoping for a clue.

The street was beginning to fill with people now. Pedlars walked about with packs on their backs, singing out their wares, pursued by housewives and servants with noses a-sniff for an early bargain. Shutters opened one by one and goods were put out to tempt the passers-by. She averted her eyes from the bloody carcasses on display in the butchers' stalls, and strolled on, keeping careful watch about her for signs of either Walter or Ralph. Her mind was still in turmoil; she could not decide what to do. What if she saw Ralph? He had betrayed her, and now he was a hunted man. Should she take Ulf's advice and hide if she saw him? Should she raise the cry against him?

No! She felt bereft just thinking about it. She'd done enough. It was up to the earl's men to find him – if they could. Uppermost in Janna's mind was the thought that Ralph might hold the key to her father's identity. If she saw him, surely she must take the chance to ask him to tell her what he knew.

A plan began to take form. Something given for something in return? If Ralph told her what he knew of her father, she would warn him that he was a hunted man. Surely there was no danger in that. Not to Walter, for she would tell Ralph that the earl had received the message and the bishop's treachery was already known. She could persuade Ralph that it was up to him now to save himself. Perhaps he could flee Winchestre in disguise?