Janna Mysteries 1 & 2 Bindup (25 page)

‘That’s better,’ he approved. ‘And if you walk like so …’ He began to stride about, his arms loose and swinging freely by his side. Janna scrambled up and began to copy him, walking first beside him and then in front, so that he could watch her.

‘Like this?’ she asked.

He grinned at her. ‘You fight like a girl, too.’ He gently touched his scratched face with his dirty hand.

Janna kept silent, refusing to feel guilty for protecting what was rightfully her own.

‘If you’re going to live as a boy, you’ll need to learn how to defend yourself in a fight. You haven’t the strength to fight fair, but your instinct was right.’ Edwin patted his groin. ‘A hard kick here will cripple your attacker and give you time to run like the devil himself. But you were too slow. I knew exactly what you had in mind.’ He forked two fingers and, before Janna had a chance to react, he stabbed them towards her eyes. ‘You could also try to blind your opponent like this, or …’ Edwin’s fingers closed together. ‘You can use your hand to break his nose, or his neck.’ His hand became a blade as he chopped up towards Janna’s nostrils and then sideways at her throat. She felt the side of his fingers slam hard against her skin, and swallowed involuntarily.

‘Hit hard, hard as you can. And be quick, you have to take your enemy by surprise,’ Edwin continued. ‘But what will you do if he comes from behind you?’ Giving Janna no time to reply, he ducked behind her and grabbed her, pinning her arms to her side and holding her close to his chest. With a startled cry, she tried to fight him off. ‘What will you do then?’ he whispered. His breath blew warm against her ear. She felt a deadly fear as she realised she was powerless in his grasp.

Still he held her, while she struggled uselessly in his grip. He gave a small huff of amusement and continued to hold her tight. The sound enraged Janna and she increased her efforts, but to the same end. She could not get away from him.

‘You stamp down on my foot. Hard,’ he told her. As Janna’s knee came up he released her suddenly, and skipped away out of danger. ‘Don’t signal your actions,’ he warned. ‘And don’t give your enemy any chance to escape.’

Janna nodded slowly. Suddenly, she sprang towards him. Her fingers stopped a hair’s breadth from his eyes.

‘Yea, that’s it. Now go practise on someone else!’

Janna scowled at him. Her heart was still racing after the fright he’d given her. Unrepentant, he grinned back. ‘You’ll do, John – so long as you remember who and what you are!’

‘I’ll remember.’ She squeezed her fingers together and tried a few practice chops at the air, pretending that she was aiming at an opponent’s neck. And his nose. Her fingers formed into a V to stab at unseen eyes. For good measure, she stamped down hard on an imaginary foot.

Edwin craned his head back to look up through the green veil of leaves. ‘There’s not enough sunlight to tell which direction we should walk in,’ he said. ‘Do you know the way through the forest?’

‘No.’ Janna’s face fell. ‘I lost the path at that clearing by the pool.’ She looked about her. ‘I have no idea where we are now.’

‘We’re at the place I’ve made my home.’ He jerked a thumb behind him. Looking past him, Janna noticed a small shelter fashioned from branches and stuffed with mud and leaves. Longer branches were laid on top of the primitive walls to form a rough roof; they were covered with a layer of reeds for extra protection. She had to look hard to see the shelter, for it was almost indistinguishable from the surrounding forest. It would give Edwin some cover from rain, but was too small for anyone to live in any comfort. Nearby was a small circle of blackened flints, with three branches meeting at a point above the space in the middle. Janna realised she was looking at Edwin’s fireplace.

‘What do you do for food? Do you have any?’ she asked, suddenly ravenous.

Edwin shuffled his feet, looking shifty. ‘I trap small creatures with this,’ he admitted, pulling a snare of plaited fibres from the front of his tunic. ‘I cook them and eat them.’

Janna felt juices seep into her mouth. ‘I’m so hungry,’ she said. ‘Do you have anything we can eat now?’

‘No.’ He smiled slightly. ‘I could offer you some water, but I saw you drink your fill in the pool.’

‘You have water? And something to cook in?’ Janna’s gaze flicked around the forest floor, settling on several plants of interest to her.

Edwin nodded.

‘Then light the fire,’ Janna instructed. ‘Before we go anywhere, I’ll make us a pottage of herbs to fill our bellies for the journey.’

‘We can’t, not in daylight! The smoke will betray us.’ Edwin cast a nervous glance about him.

Janna hesitated. Her stomach growled with hunger. She was famished. ‘Let’s risk it,’ she said. ‘The forester is probably miles away, and even if he does see the smoke we’ll be gone before he can track its source.’ Not giving Edwin a chance to protest, she drew out her knife and hurried towards a clump of nettles. She kept an eye on Edwin’s movements as she plucked the nettles by the stem and carefully cut away the stinging leaves. A patch of chickweed drew her on, and she harvested a handful of green shoots before moving over to gather some dandelions and a snippet of wild garlic to add flavour. Although her treasures were safe in her purse, she still wasn’t sure how far she could trust the young outlaw. It was true that they might be able to help each other; nevertheless, Janna reminded herself to be wary, to stay on guard just in case she’d misread his intentions. So she watched him.

His boast had not been an idle one, she thought, as she recalled how powerless she’d been in his grip. In a fair fight between them, he would be the winner. He was taller, and he had a wiry strength that became evident as he wrestled with a dead branch to break it up for kindling. The fire laid and the tinder struck to light it, he poured some water from a crudely fashioned jug into a small iron pot and hooked it over the flames to boil.

Reassured that they had a common purpose, Janna ventured further, looking for mushrooms to add bulk to the brew. She couldn’t find any more puffballs, but a few oyster mushrooms fanned out from a rotting tree stump and she gathered those, along with some late white mushrooms that nestled in an open grassy patch. She inspected them carefully for insects and to make sure they were truly an edible variety and not any poisonous look-alike. Satisfied that they were sound, and that she’d gathered enough to satisfy their hunger, she searched now for a bird’s nest. Some eggs, or even some berries, would make a welcome addition to this most basic of broths. The nests were empty and berries still unripe, but she espied something even better. Janna smiled with anticipated pleasure as she hurried towards the big white splats of lacy elderflowers peeping through the green cover. She held up the front of her smock like an apron, and dropped in what she’d already gathered, then cut several elderflowers to add to her collection, finally circling back towards the fireplace. The pot hung over the fire, steam rising in the cold air, but there was no sign of Edwin. He had vanished.

With a sinking feeling, she looked about for him. ‘Edwin?’ she called softly, remembering to keep her voice pitched low. ‘Where are you?’

There was no response. ‘All the more for me, then,’ Janna muttered, trying to keep up her spirits. Carefully laying aside the elderflowers, she threw the mushrooms and plants into the pot and, shivering, stepped closer to the fire to warm herself and dry her clothes. All sympathy for the outlaw had gone along with his disappearance. Beaten by his lord indeed, she thought, as she recalled the scar on his chin. Got that in a free fight more like, probably while he was trying to steal from someone else!

A slight rustle set her fumbling for her knife. She whirled around, frantically trying to recall the moves Edwin had taught her. The eyes. The nose. The neck. The foot.

As she saw who it was, she relaxed. Wearing a proud grin, Edwin strode forward and dangled a limp furry form in front of her nose.

‘Erk! What’s that?’ Janna jumped backwards.

‘A leveret.’ He set down the hare and pulled out his knife.

‘But it’s only a baby!’ Janna protested.

‘That’s right. I found it lying in a clump of grass.’ Edwin looked down at his prize. ‘It must have been ailing or I wouldn’t have caught it.’ He began to strip the fur from the small body.

Janna shuddered, but she didn’t stop him when he threw the leveret into the broth. He peered in after it, and sniffed suspiciously. ‘That’s poisonous.’ He pointed at one of the mushrooms.

‘No, it’s not.’

‘I don’t eat fungus. It can kill you.’

‘I know. You have to be careful. But that’s a white mushroom, and there are also some oyster mushrooms. They’re quite safe.’

Edwin looked at Janna. ‘How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?’ he muttered.

‘You don’t,’ Janna said cheerfully, ‘but you don’t have to eat them if you don’t want. I’m hungry enough for both of us.’ She offered him an elderflower. ‘Have one.’ She stuffed the sweet lacy flower into her mouth and chewed it with relish.

Edwin took a cautious bite, looking dubious. Then he licked his lips in appreciation, and quickly scoffed up the rest. It seemed he’d decided to trust her after all. Janna smiled to herself, and picked up another flower.

They ate the pottage with their fingers, taking pleasure from the hot food. It went some way to settling the ache of hunger in their stomachs. Even the hare was shared between them, although Janna tried to close her mind against what she was eating as she picked the flesh from the small bones.

‘A feast fit for King Stephen himself,’ Edwin commented, and licked his fingers. Janna pulled a face at him. If Edwin really believed that, he must be truly deluded. But his ready grin showed her that, even if he’d never attended a banquet, his imagination was every bit as vivid as her own.

‘Are you ready to leave now?’ he asked, when every last morsel was finally eaten. He stood up, and looked about for the jug and the pot that had held their meal.

‘You should first break up your shelter,’ Janna suggested, ‘just in case the forester comes this way.’

‘He won’t. I’ve never seen him anywhere near here.’ But Edwin began to dismantle the branches that had made up his home. Eager to be gone, Janna lent a helping hand by throwing away the flints that marked the fireplace, and scuffing the scorched earth inside the circle to disguise it.

She picked up a last lump of flint and clay, but it flaked and began to crumble in her hand. It slipped from her grasp so Janna gave it a kick instead. The clod fell apart under the impact of her boot. She was about to walk away when she realised that there was something twisted and misshapen in its centre. With quickening interest, she crouched down to examine the remains more carefully.

It was a small figurine, fashioned from pale clay and baked hard as iron. Janna jumped up and fetched the jug that Edwin had put by. There was still some water in the bottom, and she poured it carefully over the figurine, wiping away the last clods of earth that disfigured it. A mother holding a child came to life in her hands. Janna caught her breath as their features washed clearer. Was this Jesus with the Virgin Mary? Or was this something much, much older? She looked at the little statue, tracing the lines of the mother’s face, the tenderness of her expression as she looked down at her child. A lump came into Janna’s throat as she thought of her own mother. She stole a quick glance at Edwin. He was still busy pulling his shelter apart and hadn’t noticed. Janna opened her purse and placed the figurine carefully inside. It was ancient and precious but, even more important to Janna, holding it had brought some comfort, some ease to her own aching, lonely heart.

‘Now are you ready?’ Edwin demanded as he walked over to her and picked up the sword. He handed Janna the staff she had carried, and raised an enquiring eyebrow.

‘That’s my sword. I found it,’ Janna said indignantly.

‘Do you know how to use a sword?’ He made no effort to hand it over.

‘Do you?’ she challenged, and snatched it from him.

‘Some of us villeins used to practise our fighting skills against each other. We’d talk of cracking our lord over the head to pay him back for all the beatings he gave us. But we had no swords to practise with, only stout sticks.’

‘Then here’s a stout stick for you.’ Janna handed over her staff, then stepped aside and waited for him to pick up the pot and jug. ‘Where did you get those?’ She pointed at them.

He looked away and didn’t reply, instead setting off towards the clearing. Janna didn’t need to be told that he’d probably stolen them. But who was she to judge, when they might well have made the difference to his survival, she thought, as she began to walk after him, consciously imitating the easy swing of his stride.

‘We need to make up some story to tell, once we come to a village or town.’ She addressed her remark to his back. ‘If we’re going to be Welsh, perhaps we should call ourselves something other than Edwin and John.’

‘It’s too hard. Complicated. What if we forget and don’t answer when people talk to us?’ Edwin threw the question over his shoulder without checking his stride.

Janna thought for a moment. ‘Could our mother have been Saxon, wed to a Welshman?’

‘Good idea. It might also explain why we don’t speak as the Welsh do.’ Edwin turned, flashing his easy smile at her. Janna found herself smiling back at him. She began to relax, rolling her shoulders to ease tight muscles. The past few days had taken their toll.

‘And where are we bound?’ Edwin asked.

Janna shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she confessed. ‘I can’t read my father’s letter, so I don’t know where to start looking for him.’

‘What about Winchestre?’

‘Why there? What about London?’

‘Winchestre is the royal city where the Treasury is kept. If the king isn’t in Winchestre, people will know where he’s gone.’ He looked back to make sure she understood him. Seeing her look of incomprehension, he continued impatiently, ‘You said your father was wealthy and important. If you don’t know where your father’s manor is, surely your best hope is to find him through the king?’

Excitement blazed across Janna’s face. ‘I didn’t think of that!’ She touched the purse hanging from her girdle, feeling the shape of the folded parchment through the rough woven fabric. Winchestre! It was worth a try. It was an added comfort that Edwin seemed to be trying to help her. But she couldn’t afford to lower her guard, she reminded herself. He’d been living wild in the forest, putting his own interests before anything else. She must take care never to come between him and his freedom when they came to a town or village, for she might well pay too high a price if she was careless.