Willows for Weeping (12 page)

'We know Adam understood our need for revenge, and that he resented being watched all the time,' said Morcar. 'Everything now points to his guilt, for he's no stranger to murder. But he's escaped us. So will he also escape justice, and punishment.'

'Then there's no time to lose in going after him,' Ralph said quickly, eager to be of help. He turned to Juliana. 'We'll report the death at the next hamlet we come to, raise the hue and cry after Adam. Meantime, ma dame, we must come up with a plan to get your son's body home somehow. I will do all in my power to help you with this.'

Knowing Juliana was in good hands now that Ralph had taken charge, and conscious of her own self-appointed task, Janna hurried back to the place where the pilgrims had lain for the night. Aside from a patch of trampled grass there was little to see. Most of the pilgrims had shouldered their packs before setting out on their search for Bernard, but Janna swiftly searched through those that remained. There was nothing to find. None of the packs belonged to Bernard. Nor could she find his staff.

Frowning thoughtfully, she walked slowly back to the pilgrims. Juliana was seated on the grass, now being com-forted by Golde and Winifred. There was no sign of Morcar and Ulf or of Ralph. Janna continued her search as unobtru-sively as possible, starting close to Bernard's body. Two parallel grooves caught her attention, faint lines that tracked through sand, grass and mud. They led from the henge out to the avenue beyond. Occasionally the tracks faded into nothing, but she discovered she could pick up the telltale signs if she walked on. Sometimes only one line was visible but mostly there were two, no matter how indistinct. Were these boot marks? Had Bernard been dragged from somewhere else to where he was found?

She followed the grooves until they came to an end some way along the avenue. Janna cast about for any other signs of foul play, but found only a smooth, shallow indentation in the dust – recently made, she thought, or it would have been trodden over and obscured by the passage of visitors to the henge. She narrowed her eyes, picturing what might have happened: Bernard, leaving under cover of darkness, hurrying along the avenue and anxious to reach his destination. Someone had followed him, had hit him on the head and knocked him unconscious. The shallow imprint of his body on the ground told where he had fallen. Janna looked about for signs of blood, but there were none. So Bernard had been dragged back to the altar before being stabbed. Why? To disguise theft as a symbolic sacrifice? Or was the sacrifice for real, done to placate the gods, whoever they might be?

Janna shuddered, and thrust the thought from her mind. There were more urgent matters to consider now. Bernard's pack and scrip, and the letter from the bishop. Where were they? Of course, the thief might have taken everything with him, but it seemed unlikely he'd want the extra burden of unnecessary goods, particularly if he was escaping on foot. No, he could as easily stuff anything valuable into his own pack and hide the rest of Bernard's property elsewhere.

Janna gazed about, looking for a likely hiding place. The pilgrims were still searching the stone circles and great ditch for Adam. If there was anything of Bernard's to be found there, they would see it. Her searching glance settled on a small copse of trees some way further along the great causeway. She hurried towards it, thinking it as good a place as any to begin.

Once inside the grove, she realised she'd found the perfect cover. Trees and bushes grew in wild profusion, while waist-high weeds covered the ground from sight. They would shroud anything thrown into their depths. Or would they?

Janna stopped pushing through the weedy growth and paused to reconnoitre. She began to recognise the signs that someone had been here before her, his passage marked by bruised and broken stems and bent grasses. In the darkness, whoever it was wouldn't have realised that he was leaving a trail, but in daylight Janna could follow it easily.

Her search was rewarded when she caught sight of something thrust deep into a thicket of brambles. She forced her hand through, getting mightily scratched in the process, and dragged out a pack. It was stuffed full, clothes and possessions crammed in anyhow as if put away in a hurry. Janna pulled everything out, recognising Bernard's travelling cloak as she did so.

She looked about for Bernard's scrip. There was no sign of it, but she found his staff lying close to the pack, almost hidden among a patch of nettles. Stifling a sigh, and this time using her other hand, she carefully extracted it from its stinging hiding place. That Bernard's possessions had been searched and then carefully hidden was beyond a doubt. A casual passer-by would never have noticed them. That fact gave Janna a great deal to think about. Although her thoughts roamed free, her hands were busy as she carefully searched again the contents of Bernard's pack. The guard from Wiltune Abbey had also looked through it, but had found nothing. That might mean there was a hidden flap or a pocket, somewhere for Bernard to hide the bishop's message from the guard's eyes.

She began to feel the pack for anything unusual, like an extra seam that might disguise a hiding place. Where could the letter be? Not in this pack, she thought, while she patted it down carefully all over again, just to make sure. She rocked back on her heels and thought about it. And came to the reluctant conclusion that the thief, whether Adam or someone else, had stolen something even more valuable than he'd realised when he'd taken the scrip. The question was: could he read? Would he know the value of what he'd found? Or would he discard the message, leave it blowing in the wind or torn and muddy in a ditch, destined never to reach the eyes of the empress?

How important was the letter anyway? Was it important enough to change the fortunes of the lady? Or the fortunes of a king?

JANNA WAS THOUGHTFUL as she shouldered Bernard's pack and picked up his staff. She couldn't shake off a sense of unease as she walked back to join the pilgrim band. True, Adam had disappeared, and everything pointed to his guilt. Yet he'd left the pack behind when some of the things that Janna had seen inside it would surely have brought him a few pence if sold in the marketplace. But perhaps there'd been enough in Bernard's scrip to satisfy his greed?

More than anything, the missing message hung heavily on Janna's conscience. She shrugged her shoulders, impatient to free herself from the burden of care. There was nothing she could do to retrieve it. Her duty now was towards Juliana. It was more important that she do all in her power to bring ease to the grieving woman.

Bernard's staff fitted comfortably into her hand and she leaned on it, relishing its support. It was so much better than the rough stick of hawthorn she'd cut for herself. As she approached the pilgrims, she became uncomfortably aware that everyone was staring at her. Feeling self-conscious, she stopped using the staff and held it out to Juliana, along with the pack. 'I found these, ma dame. I believe they belonged to Master Bernard.' No need to tell Juliana – or anyone else – where she'd found them, she thought. 'I couldn't find his scrip,' she added.

Juliana took the pack, but waved the staff away. 'You have need of a good staff,' she said, looking at Janna with red, tearfilled eyes. 'You may keep it.'

'Thank you.' If Janna was surprised by Juliana's kindness, she certainly wasn't going to argue about it.

'I've said some harsh things, blamed you unfairly. I've misjudged you and I'm sorry for it.'

Janna was touched by Juliana's awkward apology. 'And I am sorry, so sorry for what has happened,' she said in return.

Juliana nodded and turned to take Ulf's arm. Evidently some heavy bartering had gone on, for a cart stood close by the group, with Ralph's palfrey at its head. Bernard's body had been loaded onto the cart. To Janna's surprise, Juliana now climbed in beside it, helped up by the strong arm of Ulf. 'We must make haste to Ambresberie to report this matter,' Ulf explained, as he noticed Janna's bewilderment. He swung himself up onto the horse and looked down at Janna. 'Morcar and Golde will escort you there, along with the lord Ralph and Winifred. We shall wait for you at Ambresberie.'

It was good of Ralph to give up his horse, Janna thought. He was a good man, kind and decent. She remembered how she had turned to him for comfort, and how he had tried to shield her from the sight of Bernard's body. A sudden thought brought a hot blush to her cheeks. Ralph had said he wanted to get to know her better. Was that why he'd elected to stay behind rather than accompanying Juliana himself?

The horse and cart set off, bearing the mourners and their sad burden. Morcar and Golde picked up their packs. Their frustrated, angry faces spoke as clearly as Golde's words. 'We've searched everywhere,' she said. 'There's no sign of Adam, may he rot in hell for all eternity.'

'I'm ready to leave whenever you are,' Janna assured them. They nodded, and set off in the direction that the horse and cart had taken. Janna followed after them, with Ralph on one side of her and Winifred on the other.

'Wherever did you find Bernard's pack and staff, Janna?' Ralph asked.

'Over there, in that patch of trees.' Janna pointed towards the spot they were just passing.

'What made you search there for them?'

Janna shrugged. 'His pack wasn't where we'd all slept, so I wondered if he'd started on his journey after all, but been attacked by Adam before he could get too far along the way.'

'That was very enterprising of you.' Amusement danced in Ralph's eyes as he commented, 'And you've won a stout staff as a result of your good deed.'

Not sure if he was making fun of her or not, Janna didn't reply. Ralph had the alarming capacity to keep her off-balance, she reflected. She was never quite sure where she stood with him.

'Did you find anything of value among Bernard's belongings?'

Janna shot a quick glance at Ralph. 'Are you accusing me of theft?'

'Of course not! I just wondered if Adam had left anything behind that might serve to comfort Dame Juliana in her grief?'

Janna shook her head, not answering.

'Am I right in thinking that Master Bernard was in possession of a message carried by the dead man you encountered outside Wiltune. What happened to it?'

'I know nothing about a message. Ask Adam – if you can find him!' Janna tilted her chin, trying to control her irritation.

'I beg your pardon, Janna. I didn't mean to suggest . . . that is to say . . .' He gave her a rueful smile. 'It's my cursed curiosity,' he explained. 'I cannot resist asking questions, even about things that do not concern me in any way whatsoever.'

Janna nodded, feeling slightly mollified. She knew how it was to be cursed with curiosity. She herself suffered from the same malady. Yet Ralph's questions had also pricked her conscience. She hated telling lies, and yet it seemed she was forever having to conceal the truth from him. Surely she could trust him, especially now that the message had disappeared. She opened her mouth, and suddenly heard Bernard's voice in her ear, sounding as clear as if he was standing right beside her: 'Trust no-one.'

She clamped her mouth shut. It was probably good advice, she thought, as she recalled Ralph's spirited defence of the king's position. He hadn't been drawn on whose side he supported, but it was too great a risk to presume that he favoured the empress just because she did.

Anxious to outpace her uneasy conscience and prevent further conversation with Ralph, she quickened her steps. Winifred trotted beside her, keeping pace. 'What was that all about?' she asked, once Ralph was safely out of earshot.

Janna shook her head, feeling too miserable and confused to explain.

'It's a shame to quarrel with him for I think he admires you.' Winifred sounded somewhat wistful. Janna wondered if she was having second thoughts about being shut away in an abbey for the rest of her life.

'Have you ever had any admirers, Winifred?' she ventured. 'I don't mean Old Dribblegum, I mean someone young and handsome?' In spite of her good intentions, she glanced over her shoulder at Ralph. Realising how she'd just given herself away, she dragged her gaze back to Winifred. 'Did you ever think about becoming a wife and mother instead of dedicating your life to God?'

'No, never.' Winifred sounded quite positive about it. 'But . . . but I am so afraid, Janna.' She gestured towards her purse. 'What am I going to do with this? I can't keep it. But I can't think what else to do with it other than throw it away. And I could never do
that
!'

In all the turmoil, Janna hadn't had time to give Winifred's predicament any further thought. 'Probably the best thing is to find some way of getting it safely back to Wiltune Abbey,' she said slowly, grappling for ideas, any solution to the problem, no matter how unappealing it might be.

'I trust you, Janna. Could you take it back for me?'

'Me? You want me to claim the reward for "finding" it?' Janna gave a snort of laughter. 'I don't think so, Winifred!'

'Couldn't we share the reward? You could have something for your trouble, while my share might be enough for a dowry at a lesser abbey. Like the one at Ambresberie, perhaps?'

Janna hadn't suspected Winifred capable of such practical good sense. She was surprised and impressed, but equally determined to have no part in any such enterprise. 'Ulf's a relic seller. He could come up with some sort of explanation as to how he came by the hand. Ask Ulf to help you.'

'No.' Winifred hung her head. 'I'm too ashamed.'

'Have courage,' Janna admonished. 'Remember, you have St Edith on your side!'

'So I thought. Now, I'm not so sure I understood her meaning correctly.'

Neither was Janna, but she believed it would do Winifred no good to start doubting herself now. 'You have the relic. It's too late now to wish it away. So, let's rather consider this as an opportunity and make the most of it,' she said briskly.

Winifred attempted a small smile. 'Please take it back for me, Janna. I'd much rather share the reward with you. Besides, I . . . I don't know Ulf. I don't trust him to keep his word.'

'I can't go back, Winifred. I must go on to Ambresberie.' Janna was sorry not to be able to help, even while she acknowledged that she hated the whole idea of claiming a reward under false pretences from an abbey that had given her shelter and taught her so much in the year she had stayed there. 'Speak to Ulf once we get to Ambresberie,' she advised. 'If he won't help you, then we'll try to think of something else. Who knows, we may come up with an even better plan.' She was silent a moment as another idea popped into her mind. Mentally she reviewed the contents of her own purse. She heaved a reluctant sigh. It might do, if everything else failed. But it would come at a cost, for she knew she would regret it. 'I'll come with you to speak to Ulf,' she promised Winifred. 'If that doesn't work out, I know something else that might.'

They walked on. Janna's stomach rumbled with hunger. They'd had nothing to eat the night before, nor had they broken their fast this day. She slowed down to keep pace with Morcar and Golde. 'How far is it to Ambresberie?'

'Not far at all.' Morcar pointed towards a thicket of trees in the distance. A glint of water ran through them like a silver thread. 'There's the abbey.' Janna saw a grey stone tower beyond the trees. 'We'll be there in an hour or two, mistress.'

'What are your plans when you get there, Janna?' Ralph fell into step with them once more.

'I shall go to the abbey to make enquiries about my mother.'

'Before that, will you let me see the ring you carry in your purse?' Ralph smiled at her, seeking forgiveness for his tactless questioning. 'It may be that I know far more than the good sisters at the abbey can tell you.'

Janna looked up at him, unable to disguise the sudden leap of hope his words had given her. Ralph had already offered his help but, from the way he was speaking now, it seemed he might know even more than she'd realised about her father's identity. 'That would be kind of you.' Her smile was radiant with excitement and joy.

'Then by all means show me the ring. I promise I'll do all in my power to help you find your father.' There was no doubting the sincerity in Ralph's voice, nor could Janna miss the warm regard in his eyes.

'Thank you,' she said, and silently chastised herself for being so quick to take offence. True, he had a questioning nature, full of curiosity about things that didn't concern him. But then, so did she. It seemed they were well-matched indeed! The thought brought a rosy blush to her cheeks and her smile grew broader.

'You look happier,' Ralph observed. 'Have you forgiven me then? For I assure you, mistress, I meant no disrespect by my questions. I am only anxious to find out the truth behind this tragic affair.'

'As am I,' Janna assured him.

'Oh, good,' Winifred observed, coming up on Janna's other side and linking arms with her. 'You're friends again.'

Ralph laughed and so, after a moment, did Janna. 'A small misunderstanding,' he said cheerfully. 'And I guarantee that nothing shall ever come between us again.' He linked hold of Janna's other arm, and together the three walked on.

As soon as they came to a likely screen of bushes, Janna excused herself and went behind their shelter. Within a few moments she was back, this time with her purse tied to her girdle outside her gown.

'Do you have the ring?' Ralph asked, as his eyes strayed to the dangling purse.

'Indeed, I do.' Janna had already extracted it, and now she held it out for Ralph's inspection. Her heart beat hard. She felt light-headed with excitement.

'Whose ring is that?' Winifred asked curiously.

'I think it belonged to my father.' Janna was watching Ralph, how his eyes narrowed as he focused on the emblem engraved on its surface. 'What are those?' She pointed at the two cat-like creatures.

'Lions. And that is a crown. This is the insignia of a king.'

'King Henry?'

'King Henry,' Ralph affirmed. 'This is not Stephen's insignia.'

'My father gave this to my mother before ever Stephen came to the throne.' Janna squinted at the two strange creatures that Ralph had called 'lions'. She wondered whether such animals really existed. She touched the crown. 'Does this mean that my father was the king's loyal supporter?'

'It does indeed. And this . . .' Ralph traced the initial J with his finger. 'This would be the first initial of your father's name. John, I think you said?'

'John.' Janna was delighted to have her suspicions confirmed by Ralph. 'Is there a John living in Winchestre? Do you know my father, Ralph?'

'I know several men named John. 'Tis a common enough name, Janna.'

'Oh.' Janna's spirits, which had risen to such giddy heights, now collapsed into nothing. She felt let down and thoroughly wretched.

'Do not lose heart.' Ralph was quick to comfort her. 'This ring has given me a good idea of who he is and where we might seek him. And you say you have a letter too?'

'Yes. It is here, in my purse.' Janna untied her purse and drew it out. Suddenly she had second thoughts about showing it to him, or to anyone. 'It's very private,' she said hesitantly. 'My mother kept it hidden all her life, and I shouldn't share it with you now. But there is naught in it to indicate who my father might be. I know, for I have studied it carefully.'

'You have read the letter? You can read?' Ralph's tone sharpened with interest, while Winifred's expression reflected her awe.

Janna nodded somewhat self-consciously. 'I learned how to read and to write at the abbey.'

'And this letter?' Ralph queried. 'Is it signed "John fitz Roy?" Or "John fitz Henry" perhaps?'

'No. It's just signed "John".'

'And there is nothing else in the letter about who your father is or where he might live?'

Janna shook her head. 'He just said that his father had gone to Normandy and that he must follow him there.'

'And you know of no other letters?'