Willows for Weeping (6 page)

Ralph wore his fair hair long, and sported a moustache and a short beard. His eyes were the blue of a summer sky. Some-thing about his expression and demeanour told Janna that this was a man of courage, of daring. He would not be put off once he set his mind to something, even if it took him to the limits of his strength and endurance, even if it led him to the very gates of Hell itself.

She shook her head and told herself not to be so fanciful. Yet the impression lingered as she watched the stranger return to his meal, breaking bread with long, strong fingers and stuffing it into his mouth.

'So you are pilgrims?' he asked the company at large.

'Indeed, sire.' Bernard answered for them all. 'We have walked the pilgrim path to Santiago de Compostela, and are now on our way home to Oxeneford.'

Ralph nodded thoughtfully. 'You will have seen many signs and wonders on your travels, I am sure.'

'Indeed we have, sire.' Bernard stared into the distance. His face took on a dreamy thoughtfulness as he continued. 'The Camino is marked in places with a cross, and sometimes the scallop shell sign of the saint, but often it is hard to know which fork in the road to take. Yet always there was a sign, a light perhaps, or a tolling bell, or even a passing traveller to guide us.' He took the scallop shell badge from his hat and held it out for Ralph's inspection. 'We wear these in honour of St James, who is known as Santiago,' he said. 'These fan-shaped lines, spread out like a hand, symbolise the work – both charitable and physical – that a pilgrim should undertake. But we were also told another story about the shells.'

He paused to focus his thoughts, and to be sure his audience was fully attentive, before resuming. 'It's said that, a long time ago, a rich pilgrim coming to the shrine was pursued by bandits. There was a storm, the man's horse was exhausted and could go no faster, and the bandits were closing in on him. He could see the glint of their knives and knew they would show no mercy if they caught him, for he was unarmed.

'He urged on his poor, exhausted horse, knowing his only hope was to outpace the bandits for there was no turning or possibility of escape. The path he travelled followed the coast-line high above the sea, with a steep drop on one side and a high rocky wall on the other. Suddenly the ground gave way, and he and his horse plunged over the cliff into the sea.

'The bandits were sure he could not survive such a fall, and so they turned and left him. Shortly afterwards, and still mounted on his horse, the pilgrim emerged safely from the water onto a nearby beach. He was covered in scallop shells. Ever since then, the scallop shell has become a symbol of life and of the Camino and St James.

'But that is only one of the many wondrous tales we heard as we walked the Camino. On another occasion . . .'

As Bernard told the stories, Janna watched Ralph. She had the feeling that his mind was on other, more pressing matters, for he seemed distracted, only bobbing his head or making some noise in his throat when a comment was called for. She wondered why he was abroad this foul evening. But it was some time before Bernard's travel stories came to an end and she could fit a word in.

'And what is the purpose of your journey, my lord?' she asked respectfully.

He turned his amused gaze upon her. 'Why, I am also going to Oxeneford.'

'We have our own saint there too, of course,' Bernard inter-posed. 'Many pilgrims come to visit St Frideswide's holy well.'

'And that is the purpose of my visit,' Ralph said. 'I am a simple pilgrim, just as you are.' He looked to Janna as he answered her question.

'But the lady is not a pilgrim, sire. You mistake her,' Bernard observed.

Ralph continued to watch Janna. 'Why, then, do you travel with pilgrims, mistress?' he asked softly.

She felt herself colour under his steady regard. 'I have my own reasons,' she told him, unwilling to divulge to a stranger, or even to Bernard, her purpose for visiting the abbey at Ambresberie.

Something flitted across Ralph's face, an expression that Janna was hard put to read. Curiosity? Suspicion? 'And it is safer to walk with pilgrims than to take to the road on your own,' he said. 'I trust you travel in peace and comfort?'

Janna wondered if there was more to his enquiry than mere courtesy. 'Not in comfort,' she admitted ruefully. She had pulled off her shoes at the earliest opportunity, and now she glanced down in the direction of her sore, torn feet before returning her regard to the newcomer.

'Nor in peace! We've encountered nothing but trouble since these two young women joined us,' said Bernard, with a wide sweep of his arm that encompassed Winifred sitting beside Janna.

'Trouble?' The stranger cocked his head and raised an enquiring eyebrow.

Janna stayed silent, leaving it to Bernard to explain his remark. He willingly continued. 'The first thing we encoun-tered was a dead man, a stranger, lying close to the river. And his horse grazing nearby, lamed. We think they had been there for some time. But that wasn't the end of the alarums, not by any means! No sooner had we stumbled across the corpse than we were pursued by a guard from Wiltune Abbey. It seems that a relic has been stolen, the blessed hand –'

'A dead man?' the stranger interrupted. 'But . . . how did he come to die?'

'Broke his neck when his horse reared and threw him, I suspect,' said Bernard.

'Why did his horse rear? Was he attacked? Were there bandits about?'

'On the road, yes, but none down by the river. I searched the area but all I found was the horse. It was limping. A snake, or perhaps a sharp stone under its hoof . . .?' Bernard gestured towards Janna. 'You were there as witness, mistress. You saw what I saw. Wouldn't you agree that's how it was?'

And Janna, thus pressed, had to say that yes, she did agree.

'Who was the man, do you know?'

Janna wondered if Bernard would mention the letter, but the pilgrim said easily, 'I have never seen him before. I don't know who he was. Neither does Mistress Johanna.'

'Surely he carried papers? Something to identify him?'

Bernard shook his head. 'We searched his possessions but found nothing to tell us his name.' It was no more nor less than the truth.

Ralph turned an enquiring glance on Janna. She was torn between honouring her promise to Bernard and wanting to excite Ralph's interest by mentioning the parchment they had found. But the pilgrim had invited her to join their group and had given her a warm welcome. She trusted him, and trusted his judgment. So she gave a shrug but kept silent, excusing herself with the thought that they didn't know if Ralph supported the empress or the king. Nor did they know where he'd come from or why he seemed so interested in the dead man.

But it seemed no more than a casual enquiry after all, for Ralph turned back to Bernard. 'I beg your pardon,' he said. 'I allowed my interest in the fate of an unfortunate traveller to interrupt what you were saying about the theft of a relic?'

Janna admired his courtesy, while acknowledging there was a great deal else to admire about Ralph! He met her gaze once more, and gave her a wicked grin. Janna risked a quick, shy smile before looking away. She felt sure that he suspected they hadn't told him everything for there was such knowing in his eyes. This was a man of courage and daring, yes, but perhaps also a man with his own secrets. At least, that was her guess from what she'd seen of him so far.

She became aware that Juliana was watching them closely. Her face was closed and still, her mouth turned down tight as a trap. Janna wondered what she was thinking. She stood up and walked across to the old woman and sat down beside her.

Juliana was trembling. Janna reached out a comforting hand. 'What ails you, mistress?' she asked. 'Is there aught I can do to help you?'

'There's naught anyone can do, for it has begun.' Juliana turned to her and Janna read the fear in her eyes.

She gripped Juliana's hand tightly, trying to pour her young strength and courage into the feeble body. 'All will be well,' she said. 'Pray tell your son of your concern for him. Ask him to take care. Tell him that you watch over him. Tell him we shall all keep watch.'

'It's too late for warning. He won't listen to me.' Juliana moistened her lips with her tongue. 'When I first spoke of my fear for his safety, Bernard told me that our lives are as candles to the breath of God. We may burn bright and steady, sure in our purpose, or we may flicker feebly in the darkness of self-doubt. But our end is always at God's will. And he said that whenever God called him, he would be ready.' Her voice sharpened in anguish. 'But I will never be ready! I will never be ready to lose my son!'

At a loss for words, Janna sat beside Juliana for the remainder of the meal, and lay down beside her when it was time to take their rest. The small room was stuffy and airless, and reeked of the smell of unwashed bodies and clothes, farts and old food, and smoke from the half-doused fire. She itched and scratched, knowing that fleas and lice and probably bedbugs too had found a home in the dirty straw that covered the floor. She turned restlessly, finding it impossible to settle to sleep. Finally she rose and cautiously threaded her way through the recumbent bodies to the closed door of the farmstead.

She pushed it open and stepped outside, taking a deep and grateful gulp of fresh, cool air. It had stopped raining. The clouds were shifting, showing scatters of stars through their ragged hems. In the faint moonlight she could make out the dark shape of a barn and the humped shadows of animals. She decided to go in search of somewhere quiet and solitary to sleep: a dry patch of grass under a tree, perhaps, or she might venture into the barn. She was about to close the door behind her when she felt a pressure against her hand. The door opened wider, and the stranger stepped quickly over the threshold. He grinned and put his finger to his lips as he quietly closed the door behind him. Still with his finger to his lips, he took Janna's hand and led her a little way from the hall and the sleepers inside.

'Did you follow me?' Janna demanded, when Ralph finally stopped and let go of her hand. He made no answer, but instead propped his shoulder against the side of the barn, seeming quite at ease in spite of her accusation. She could hardly see his face in the dim light, but thought he might be smiling.

'What do you want? Did you follow me?' she asked again, her tone sharp with underlying fear.

'I could lie and say "no", but why should I hide the truth?' he answered quietly. 'Yes, mistress, I followed you. Many men would, if given half the chance.'

Janna drew a breath. 'Then perhaps I should go back inside where there is company and protection, should I need it.' A sudden shiver raised the hairs along her arms. She had been ambushed once before, and by a man with murder on his mind. She had avoided harm on that occasion; she might not be so fortunate next time. Were Ralph's words meant as mere flattery or did he, like the assassin before him, desire her death as well as her body? She kept still, pondering means of escape should he make an untoward move. But he had taken up a position between her and the farmhouse. She would have to get past him in order to reach the others. Only the thought that help was so close at hand kept her from shouting her fear aloud.

'I mean you no harm, Johanna.' Realising she had misinterpreted his motive, he was quick to reassure her. 'My words were meant as a compliment.'

'You don't know me well enough to follow me out into the night, or pay me compliments!' In spite of her reprimand, Janna was hardly able to hide her relief.

'All right then, I wanted a chance to talk to you,' Ralph admitted. 'It's about the dead man. I've been wondering if he might be a kinsman of mine. My cousin set out on a journey some time ago, but he seems to have gone missing and I can't help fearing for his safety in these troubled times. Can you tell me what the dead man looked like?'

'His hair was dark, and worn shorter than yours. He was clean-shaven. And his clothes were costly.' Janna's sympathy was aroused now, and she was keen to give as accurate an account as she could. As she detailed the clothes worn by the dead man, she was struck by a thought. 'If this is your kinsman, he has been dead for several days,' she concluded.

'How do you know?'

Janna hesitated, wondering how to phrase her words so as not to cause Ralph undue distress. 'His body was . . . marked. There were . . . signs that it had lain there for some time.' She hoped she'd said enough to convince him.

'Signs?'

'Insects. And . . . and bite marks.' She really didn't want to tell him that animals had started to eat his cousin. But fortunately Ralph had heard enough.

'He sounds something like my cousin,' he said urgently. 'But if it was, he would have carried documents with him.'

'What sort of documents?' Janna wondered if Ralph's cousin was indeed carrying a message from the bishop to the empress, and if it would be safe to tell what she had seen.

'Oh, the sort of documents any merchant might carry.' Ralph was silent for a moment. 'More important, I do know that he carried a letter from his wife to her family, for my cousin intended to visit them along the way. There would have been a red seal on the parchment. Did you see anything like that?'

'Not like that, no.' Janna was quite sure now that the bishop's letter could have no connection to Ralph's cousin's wife. She was pleased to be able to set Ralph's mind at rest on that score, while settling her conscience at the same time.

'So you did see something?' He was quick to pick up her slip of the tongue.

'No!' Janna was glad of the dark, for she could feel her face flame hot with the lie and knew her blushes would give her away. 'I am quite sure that the dead man was not your cousin,' she added hastily.

Ralph nodded thoughtfully. 'I wonder if you and Master Bernard were the first to find him?' he queried. 'You say the body may have lain there for several days. Others might have come before you and searched the dead man's scrip, for it seems strange that you found nothing to identify him at all. Surely no-one would travel so light?'

'I am sure we were the first to find him, for it was only chance that took us down to the river at that place. There was a party of horsemen on the road and Master Bernard wanted to keep out of their way. Besides, everything about the dead man seemed undisturbed. Any thief would have removed his rings, or the gold chain about his neck, or his silver dagger, but nothing was taken. And any honest man would not have left him just lying there. The dead man's horse grazed nearby; it was an easy enough task to hoist the body onto its back and lead it to the nearest hamlet.'