Devilʼs Brew: The Janna Chronicles 5 (21 page)

“Yair.” Elfric was starting to look at her strangely now. “I use them to flavor stews, especially vegetable pottage.”

“Have you been using more than usual lately?”

Elfric sucked on his teeth as he thought about it. “No, not lately. But a while ago I had to send Wat out to buy some in the market place when I thought I already had a full pot here at hand.” He shook his head in bemusement. “More salt too. Yet I could’ve sworn – ”

“You didn’t taste the tainted ale, but I did. The ale was hot as fire, and it made people vomit. Your mustard seeds – and salt – were added to the brew.”

“Are you accusing me of poisoning the ale?” Elfric drew himself up, frowning ferociously.

“No!” Janna patted his arm to calm him down. “No, I’m just saying we need to be careful, that’s all.” She was thinking of Ebba. Or Wat? She wondered if Elfric had also made the connection. But he just grunted, and turned to give his full attention to prodding the marrowbones so that their rich contents spilled out, adding extra flavor to the stew.

She went back into the brew house, needing to give herself time to think, to come up with a plan. Once she’d given the mix a stir, she ventured back into the tavern. To her great relief, Hugh had left. Perhaps he too had sensed the danger of his proposal. She made herself a silent promise never to be alone with him in the future. She glanced about, hoping to see Ulf, but there was no sign of him either. Promising herself that she would talk to him the moment he came in, she went upstairs to Sybil.

The wound on the back of the taverner’s head was starting to heal, Janna was pleased to note, as she unwound the bandage and carefully spread ointment over the affected part. Sybil winced, but bore her ministrations without complaint. “Thank you for your care of me, Janna,” she said, when she was comfortably settled once more. “I really don’t know how I would have managed without you.”

Janna was pleased but tried not to show it. She knew that Sybil didn’t like anyone to make a fuss. But she thought the words meant that Sybil had begun to trust her at last. The taverner was more alert now, and on her way to recovery. It was time to try to jog her memory once more. “Have you remembered anything at all about the attack on you?”

“No.” Sybil shook her head in frustration, then winced at the pain of it. “Believe me, if I had I would tell you the moment I thought of it.”

Janna decided to test her suspicions. She couldn’t help hoping she was right, if only to soothe her own uneasy conscience about her silence over Mus. “Do you think you could have been attacked by a woman?”

“No!” The answer came without thought and Janna’s hopes crumbled into disappointment. But it seemed that Sybil was reconsidering her reply. “At least, I don’t think so,” she amended. “Whoever it was came from behind. I didn’t see anything.”

“Or smell anything? Sweat, or – ”

“No.” To Janna’s relief, Sybil sounded quite definite.

“But you heard something,” Janna reminded her, thinking of the long crimson gown that Ebba wore. “The swish of a gown, perhaps, or the patter of a woman’s shoes?”

“No.” But Sybil sounded doubtful.

“Or the heavier tread of a man’s boots?”

“No. I don’t remember anything like that.” Sybil grasped Janna’s hand and pulled herself up to a sitting position. “I’m feeling quite well now,” she said, swinging her legs to the floor to prove her point. “It’s time I came downstairs.”

Janna couldn’t agree. “There’s no need to come down yet,” she soothed the taverner. “Business is picking up, we’re doing a good trade again. You don’t have to worry about anything, truly.”

“Except that you could probably use another pair of hands if things are as busy as you say.”

“We’re managing quite well as we are,” Janna contradicted. “And you don’t want the customers to see you with your head all bound up. That would really give them something to tattle about!”

“What are they saying now?”

“I told them you’re indisposed.” No way was she going to pass on to Sybil the news that the tavern was about to close.

“I could become a local attraction if they knew what had really happened,” Sybil said wryly. “People might come especially to see me.”

“It’s too much of a risk for you to come down and work in the tavern just yet. And I certainly can’t take that bandage off either, it’s too soon,” Janna said firmly. “Besides, there’s no need for you to be up and doing. Ossie is helping me serve the customers and Elfric is keeping Wat up to the mark.” She hesitated, wondering if she could push things a little further, even at the risk of upsetting Sybil. “Ebba paid a visit to Wat this afternoon,” she ventured.

Sybil’s expression hardened. “Slut!” She thought for a moment, then shrugged. “But I can’t stop her seeing her brother, I suppose.”

“Has she visited him before?”

“Not Ebba!” Sybil gave a snort at the very idea.

“She was dressed very fine.”

“Alan likes his drabs to be well dressed.” Sybil’s voice was sour as vinegar.

“But are they still together, do you know? Because I’m told that Ebba works at Hell now, but your – ” Janna bit the words off just in time. “The merchant drinks at other taverns.”

“If not Alan, she’ll have someone else. That girl ever had an eye for a likely prospect.”

“And Wat? Is he trustworthy, do you think?” Janna remembered how the young potboy had come to her rescue against Mus, and felt ashamed of her suspicions. But if Ebba wasn’t responsible for the tainted food and drink, who else?

“He’s a lazy son of Satan. I only took him on because Ebba begged me to give him employment. I suppose I could let him go now that she’s gone. Who knows, I might find a more willing worker to take his place.”

“No need for that!” Janna said quickly, anxious to salvage something of her conscience. Not for anything would she have Wat out of work because of her, not unless she could prove her suspicions. “He’s doing well enough for the present.” Should she mention the mustard seeds? Better not, she decided. Not yet, anyway.

“But it’s time I came downstairs to see for myself what’s going on.” Sybil thrust herself upright and stood swaying, blinking against a sudden dizziness.

Janna grabbed her, her spirits spiraling downward at the realization that Sybil still didn’t trust her. “You’re not well enough,” she said firmly.

Sybil took a breath. Her face had blanched pale as whey; she closed her eyes. “I think you have the truth of it,” she said faintly, and sagged back down onto the bed.

“You’ll just have to trust me.” Janna couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her tone.

“I do.” Sybil reached up and caught hold of her hand. “Believe me, Janna, I do. But I’m used to being in charge, ordering things to my own satisfaction. I feel so…so
useless
lying here!”

Janna nodded, feeling slightly mollified. This, she could understand. “It won’t be for too much longer,” she promised, and whisked out of Sybil’s room and down the stairs.

“I have another task for you,” she said apologetically to Ulf, when she spied him later that evening.

“Let me guess. I’m going to Hell?”

Janna grinned. “More than that. I want you to make up to Ebba. Flatter her. Promise her whatever she asks. I want you to try to find out, if you can, who her protector is now.”

“What if she doesn’t have one?” Ulf looked thoroughly alarmed. “I’ll look right daft if she takes me at my word.”

“She won’t.” Janna told him of the girl’s unexpected appearance in all her finery, and her relationship to Wat. “Ebba’s got someone,” she said, “and I want to know who.”

“I doubt it’s Alan. He’s still playing the big man, but he’s not looking quite so flash these days. Besides, he mostly seems to frequent Paradise, or Heaven.”

“If not Alan, then it’s someone else. I want to find out who’s behind what’s been going on around here. I want to know if she’s working with someone, or if this is all her own idea.” Janna went on to tell Ulf her suspicions about the tainted ale and the mouse pie. “She was snooping around here today, and I want to know why,” she concluded.

“You could be reading far too much into all of this. Maybe Ebba just came to see her brother.”

Janna needed to convince Ulf that she was right, but it would mean betraying a confidence. On the other hand, she was sending him into what could become a dangerous situation. That thought helped her make up her mind. She related to him what Elfric had told her about Sybil and Alan, and how their relationship had ended after they’d quarreled over ownership of the tavern. She told him too how the merchant hadn’t hesitated to shame Sybil and taunt her in front of his friends.

“I might be wrong about Alan, but I’m almost sure Ebba and her protector are in this together. Her brother too. Please see what you can find out for me, Ulf. After all, our reputation is at stake here, as well as Sybil’s safety.”

The relic seller nodded and stood up. He hefted his pack onto his shoulders and walked out of the tavern. Janna watched him go. She felt restless, on edge. Something else was being planned, she felt sure of it. Unable to quieten her fears, she took off her apron and rushed to the kitchen to fetch her cloak. The tavern wasn’t too busy at present. She would leave Ossie in charge while she was gone.

On her way out, she checked with him that he could manage. “I’ll watch out for the customers,” he assured her, and picked up a pitcher of ale to show he was willing.

“Get Wat to help with the food orders,” Janna told him, thinking that her mission was more important that a few disgruntled customers if things did go wrong in her absence. But she knew that the ale was sweet, and Elfric was checking the food. And she wouldn’t be gone for long. “I’ll be back soon,” she promised. Drawing her cloak around her, and taking care that her face was so shrouded as to be unrecognizable inside her hood, she stepped out into the night.

She wished now that she’d asked Ulf to stay and walk with her. Every shadow turned into Mus; every movement set her heart racing. Rats and cats disturbed rubbish, made scrabbling noises, turned into ghosts and assassins as she walked along the high street. There were plenty of people in the town, preparing for the fair. Merchants and traders alike were keen to make up for sales lost the previous year, and visitors were also flocking in, ready to pay their dues and stake their claim. With so many strangers about, Janna felt increasingly anxious. What if Mus had given up and gone back to Robert? What if Robert had set someone else after her instead, someone she didn’t know, someone who could take her by surprise?

Thoroughly alarmed by this new thought, Janna scooted along as fast as if the devil was on her heels, desperately keen to reach the relative safety of the alehouses. She was shaking with fright by the time she came to Hell, and had to fight the temptation to go inside and ask Ulf to escort her to the next alehouse. But she forced herself onward, to Paradise. Ulf had told her that this was where he usually saw Alan. While Ulf was busy finding out what he could from Ebba, she would spy on Alan. And if he wasn’t in Paradise, she would try Heaven instead.

Once inside, she looked around with interest, for she hadn’t been into the alehouse before. It was busy enough; there were far more people drinking here than in the Bell and Bush, for it was near all the shops in the high street. Drawing the hood close and keeping her head down, Janna walked among the patrons. She assessed the crowd with quick sideways glances as she went, looking out for Mus as well as the merchant. While there was no sign of the former, Alan was there and surrounded by his usual hangers-on. Janna sidled closer, testing and discarding various strategies as she went.

“…no doubt in my mind that this is the finest alehouse in Winchestre.” The merchant rose to his feet. Janna jerked back with alarm, not wanting to be seen.

“You don’t have to leave so early,” one of his companions pointed out. “You said yourself that your leman’s busy elsewhere!”

“Busy doing what?” asked someone else, a smirk belying the seeming innocence of the remark. But the man quickly sobered as the merchant angrily swiped the mug out of his hand.

“Watch your mouth,” he snarled, and spat into the rushes.

“Come on, Master Alan, she’s friendly with everyone, you know that.” Another man at the table laid his hand on the merchant’s arm in a vain effort to keep the peace.

“You’ll speak of her with respect or you’ll answer to me!” The merchant jerked his arm free and strode off. Janna shrank behind a crowded table, analyzing what she’d just heard. That his companions sought to detain the merchant probably meant nothing other than they were hoping for free ale. But she’d found out part of the confirmation she’d sought: the merchant had a leman. If his mistress wasn’t free to come to his bed just yet, it might mean that she was engaged elsewhere. In Hell? Or in some other man’s bed? Judging from his appearance, the merchant appeared less prosperous than when she’d first encountered him. Was Ebba earning their keep now?

Janna stayed hidden, curious to find out what Alan would do next. She watched as he moved toward several men drinking steadily in the corner, watched as he beckoned to a passing serving maid.

“Another jug of your fine ale for me and my friends here,” he said, his loud voice attracting the attention of the drinkers nearby. “I swear ’tis the best brew in all Winchestre, wouldn’t you agree?” He looked about the table for confirmation. Several men nodded, but one or two looked somewhat dubious.

“They do a good brew at the Bell and Bush,” one said, and slapped his mug down on the table. “Better than here, I reckon.”

“The Bell and Bush?” Alan said incredulously. “The
Bell and Bush
?” He clapped his palm against his forehead in disbelief. “Why, I was there only last night. It’s common talk the tavern’s about to close. The taverner lies near death, ’tis said, and the brew tastes like slops because of it. No, you can forget about the Bell and Bush.” He leaned on the table, pushing his face close to the one man who had dared to disagree with him. “Let me refill your mug, my friend. There’s nothing to touch this brew, I tell you. Nothing.” He seized the new jug as soon as it was brought to the table and made good his offer, sloshing its contents into all the mugs that were eagerly pushed toward him.