Janna Mysteries 1 & 2 Bindup (38 page)

Cecily nodded, and gave a forlorn sniff. Encouraged, Janna asked, ‘When did you last see Hamo, Cecily? How did he come to run away?’

‘I know not.’ Cecily gave her eyes a fierce scrub on her sleeve, and sniffed again. ‘I was called away to the kitchen to speak to the cook about Hamo’s meals. I asked him to come with me but he didn’t want to, and so I left him playing with his ball.’

Janna reflected, with bleak amusement, that Hamo’s new nurse didn’t yet have his measure. Telling, not asking, would be far more effective if she wanted the child to obey her. She remembered what Hugh had said. ‘He was playing by the undercroft?’

‘Yes. He was throwing his ball at the wall and trying to catch it. Actually, he’s very good at it.’

Having played ball with Hamo herself, Janna knew just how accurate was his aim, and how skilful his catching. She also knew that Hamo loved to play ball and realised she could hardly blame Cecily if the boy resisted her efforts to drag him away.

‘How long were you gone?’ she asked.

‘Only long enough for the cook to show me what she had in her stores, and for me to give her some directions regarding Hamo’s likes and dislikes. She was willing enough to listen and to learn, there was no argument there. But when I came out again and looked for Hamo, he was nowhere to be seen. I swear to you,’ Cecily clutched Janna’s arm in agitation, ‘I was not gone for long. Moments only!’ She began to cry once more.

‘Was the dog with Hamo while he was playing with his ball?’ It was a chance question, but Cecily’s answer reinforced Janna’s certainty that the two were linked together somehow.

‘No,’ she said. ‘We’d been looking for the dog everywhere. Hamo couldn’t find it. He was very upset.’ She looked down at Bones, now sitting placidly beside Janna. ‘Where did you find it?’ She brightened momentarily. ‘Maybe Hamo …?’ Her voice trailed off as Janna shook her head.

‘Bones was here, in the kitchen garden,’ she said. ‘There was no sign of Hamo.’

‘But Hamo and I looked here just before he disappeared. Bones wasn’t here then.’

‘I saw the dog outside the kitchen when I broke my fast yesterday, but I didn’t see him after that until I went looking for Hamo earlier today, and found the dog cowering behind those barrels over there. He seemed very frightened, I don’t know why.’ It was something to think about later, but for now she was anxious to question Cecily further. If Hugh was somehow implicated in Hamo’s disappearance, then Janna vowed to find it out. ‘Tell me about my lord Hugh. Where does he go? Does he spend much time with you in the hall and in the solar?’

Cecily frowned at Janna, and remained silent.

‘Mistress Gytha is very attractive, is she not?’ Janna prompted, hoping to goad Cecily into speaking by throwing in a snippet of kitchen gossip. ‘I know she cares for my lord. I wondered if he might spend time dallying with her?’

‘Gytha?’ Cecily’s eyes widened. Too late, Janna remembered that at one time she’d wondered if Cecily herself was enamoured with Hugh. She wasn’t then, but perhaps that, too, had changed in the time Janna had been gone. Janna wished she could undo her question.

‘Gytha?’ Cecily echoed again. She gave a short laugh. ‘I think my lord might wish to do better for himself than the cook’s daughter.’

Although Cecily’s words echoed what Janna herself had thought, still she couldn’t help feeling sadness at being reminded that if Gytha was beneath Hugh’s attention, she herself must come even lower. Then she remembered the purpose of her questions. If Hugh was guilty, as she feared, he could have no place in her heart, none at all.

‘I doubt that my lord has spent much time with Gytha or any other pretty woman who might take his fancy, for he has been very busy since his return.’ Cecily’s voice broke into Janna’s thoughts. ‘He goes out every day to inspect the fields, and see what’s to be done about the manor, and make sure that all is as it should be. He’s told me of his concern that the manor isn’t more productive. I believe there have also been several unfortunate accidents recently. Although my lord Hugh pays tribute to Master Serlo, whom he says is an excellent reeve, I suspect his main aim is to convince his aunt of his own good stewardship, and to stay in her favour so that she will let him keep the manor for himself after young Hamo comes of age.’

So Hugh could have gone anywhere and everywhere, with no-one to check on his movements. Janna knew she could push Cecily no further. It was clear she had little real knowledge of how Hugh passed his days. But she might yet have some useful knowledge for Janna.

‘Who are the visitors that travelled with you through the forest? Where are they bound?’ she asked, feeling sure Cecily would have taken more interest in them than Gytha, and that she’d be able to give a better answer. It might be, she thought hopefully, that the travellers could tell her the way to Winchestre. They might even be going there themselves. If that was the case, maybe she could follow them.

A sudden memory troubled her. Edwin had been present when the travellers arrived – and he’d been missing ever since. Had he already interrogated them about Winchestre? Was that why he’d vanished? Or had he disappeared for another reason entirely? She became aware that Cecily was watching her, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

‘You’re always asking questions,’ Cecily observed, ‘and always to a purpose. What’s on your mind, Janna?’

Janna was tempted to trust Cecily with her plans but knew that she should not, for she could do nothing nor go anywhere until Hamo was found. ‘Nothing in particular is on my mind,’ she lied. ‘I’m just trying to work out who Hamo might be with, or where he might be. I’m trying to help, mistress.’

‘I doubt Hamo’s gone anywhere with the visitors.’ Cecily thought for a moment. ‘In fact, I know he hasn’t, for I saw them with Serlo, taking part in the search.’ Her voice shook; she fought for control.

‘Who are they? Where are they from?’ Janna asked again. It seemed unlikely that strangers could be responsible for Hamo’s disappearance for they would have no reason to wish the boy harm, nor would they have the local knowledge to keep him hidden. Yet their identity was of interest to her, for in that might lie the answer to another disappearance and a solution to at least one of the mysteries that plagued her.

‘They come from near Tantone. I think ’tis in the next shire from ours.’

Tantone. Janna nodded as her suspicion was confirmed. ‘Why have they come here?’ she asked carefully.

‘They stopped to break their journey because one of their horses is lame. Their destination is Winchestre and they plan to be there in time for the annual fair of St Giles.’ Cecily sounded troubled as she added, ‘But I think there might be another purpose to their travels. I heard them ask my lord Hugh if he’d seen or given shelter to any outlaws over the past few months.’

‘Outlaws?’ Janna’s voice squeaked upwards in horror at the realisation that Edwin’s secret must be known to Hugh. With an effort, she tried to control her agitation. ‘What did my lord tell them?’

‘He asked if the outlaw was travelling on his own. When Master Siward said “yes”, my lord replied that he had not come across any man travelling alone. Oh!’ Cecily caught her breath. ‘Is that … is he Edwin? Is Edwin him?’

Janna was sorry, now, that she’d questioned Cecily. She was sure the tiring woman would not have worked it out if she hadn’t prompted her to it. But it was too late, now, to take back her words. She nodded.

‘Oh, Janna!’ Cecily clutched her arm, her own woes forgotten at this new threat. ‘We might have been murdered in our beds!’

‘Nonsense!’ Janna could understand Edwin’s disappearance now, but she wished he was here to argue his cause and state his innocence. More than anything, she was grateful to Hugh for keeping both her secret and Edwin’s. She felt mean and unworthy when she remembered her suspicions about him, yet she knew she must not trust him unless and until she could prove him innocent of any knowledge of Hamo’s disappearance.

‘If my lord Hugh has kept Edwin’s secret, and mine, I beg you to do the same,’ she pleaded. ‘Besides, Edwin has left the manor. I think those men have frightened him away.’ For all she knew, it was true.

‘Thank goodness for that.’ Cecily breathed a soft sigh of relief. She climbed to her feet, and stretched out her hand to Janna to pull her up. ‘I must get back,’ she said, and looked suddenly awkward. ‘Janna, I hate to see you as you are. I wish you –’

‘It’s all right. I don’t mind.’ Janna brushed dust and grass seeds from her breeches. ‘You go on ahead. You shouldn’t be seen with me. It might cause talk.’

Cecily hesitated. ‘Go on.’ Janna gave her a push. ‘I’ll follow you.’

A mournful tolling spoke the message that Hamo still wasn’t found as the villeins returned to the manor, the women and children parting from their menfolk at the gate to make their way back to their own cots. Janna could see the leaping flames of smoking torches. The men had returned only to fetch them so they might continue the search. She could hear Serlo’s voice bellowing out above the confusion, and she lingered a little longer, watching as the lighted flares streamed out and disappeared beyond the manor walls. She noticed that the forester had joined the search, and shrank back into the shadows. She must make sure to keep out of his way if he was still around in the morning.

The bell commenced its mournful tolling once more, calling out to the lost boy, summoning him home.

A wave of desolation swept over Janna. She was sure now that Hamo was not lost, but had been taken by someone and hidden somewhere. If he was lost, or had met with some misadventure, he would have been found. Could that mean that he was still alive? Janna took some comfort from the thought, even while she struggled against naming the only man who could wish Hamo harm.

Yet Hugh was absent from the manor. He had gone to fetch Dame Alice, which meant that there was no-one here to take care of Hamo while he was held captive. Perhaps, then, the boy must be dead after all?

No! Janna pushed the thought away from her. She couldn’t give in to despair. She wouldn’t!

Something else was bothering Janna now. Intent on clearing it up, she set off after the tiring woman, walking with long free strides. Cecily had said that Hamo was playing ball against the manor wall when she’d been called away to the kitchen to talk to the cook. Who had called her away? And where was Hamo’s ball?

Cecily was about to climb the stairs up to the hall. She’d stopped to pluck an armful of flowers from the garden, perhaps to brighten the chamber in time for Dame Alice’s arrival or perhaps just to cheer herself up. Janna had almost caught up to her when a sudden roar stopped them both.

‘John!’ Before Janna could move, could run, Serlo was upon her. He grabbed hold of her smock in one big hand, and began shaking her as a dog would a rat.

‘Stop it! Stop that!’ Cecily said sharply, and bent to calm Bones, who’d begun to bark hysterically.

Serlo gave her one startled glance. ‘He is a thief, just as his brother is a thief!’ He gave Janna another hard shake. Janna jerked her chin at Cecily, trying to tell her to go away and leave them. But Cecily stayed. ‘What evidence do you have for such an accusation, Master Serlo?’ she asked calmly.

‘A length of fine woollen cloth is missing from a storage chest in the undercroft.’ Serlo kept tight hold of Janna. ‘Two silver goblets are also missing.’ He thrust his face into Janna’s, scowling ferociously. ‘Where are they?’

J
ANNA’S FIRST FEELING
was overwhelming relief. The posy of rue must have been to mark a theft, not the taking of Hamo. In spite of her situation, she felt almost light-hearted.

‘I know nothing of these articles,’ she said steadily, pitching her voice louder to be heard above the noise Bones was making. The dog had tried to sink its teeth into Serlo’s ankle, and had received a kick for its efforts. Now it kept a wary distance, but it continued to bark and growl at the reeve. ‘I have no possessions for you to search,’ Janna continued, ‘but I warrant that no matter where you look, you will find nothing to link either me or Edwin to the missing objects.’ The storage chests had been locked, she remembered now. Whoever had the key must surely be responsible for the thefts. She opened her mouth to voice her thoughts, and quickly closed it again. It could only increase Serlo’s suspicion if she confirmed she’d already investigated the chests.

‘What about your thieving brother?’ Serlo gave her another shake. ‘I gave you until nightfall to find him – and the young lord. Where are they? What do you know of them?’

‘Nothing, Master Serlo. I don’t know where they are. I wish I did.’

‘There, Master Serlo,’ Cecily said, ‘You have your answer. She knows nothing.’

Janna closed her eyes and groaned inwardly. Had Serlo noticed Cecily’s slip? If so, he gave no sign of it.

‘You will stay here under lock and key until your brother returns,’ he said sternly.

And if he doesn’t return? Janna dared not ask the question.

‘Master Serlo, may I suggest you consult my lord Hugh before locking up this … this youth,’ Cecily said quickly, trying to make up for her mistake.

The reeve frowned at the tiring woman, seemingly puzzled by her intervention. ‘With respect, ma dame, this matter does not concern my lord or you,’ he said coldly.

Cecily looked at him with dislike. ‘Nevertheless, I will put this matter before my lord as soon as he returns with Dame Alice,’ she said firmly.

In spite of her precarious situation, Janna’s mouth twitched up in a smile. It seemed the tiring woman had some iron in her spirit in spite of her fragile appearance.

Her smile vanished as she heard Serlo’s reply. ‘And I will keep this villein safe under lock and key until that time’.

Despite Cecily’s continued protests, he dragged Janna across the yard and pushed her into the barn. His shove sent her flying into the darkness. She fell against a pile of hay, feeling the hard ground graze her knees through the rough fabric of her breeches. She heard the snick of the latch as it came down to hold the door fast, and then a frantic howling. Bones was shut outside, and not happy.

‘You’ll be sorry for this!’ Cecily’s threat came loud and clear through the wattle and daub walls of the barn, and so did her next words: ‘Come on, Bones, you come with me.’ The sounds of whining faded into the distance. Janna kept silent. She didn’t know if Serlo was still outside, but she knew that calling out wouldn’t change his mind. She would not demean herself further in his eyes.

It was pitch black inside the barn. Janna couldn’t see at all. She scrambled to her feet and stretched out her hands, ready to explore her prison. But the barn was crammed full of hay and she quickly found there was nowhere to go. She sat down to consider her situation. While she hoped that Hugh wouldn’t suspect her of theft, it was perfectly possible that he would lay the blame on Edwin. Thanks to the travellers, Hugh now knew Edwin’s circumstances. Janna was the only one who could speak up for him and try to clear his name. In all conscience she wondered if she could or should, when Edwin had been so quick to help himself to Janna’s own possessions.

A sudden realisation brought a hot wave of shame to Janna’s cheeks. She was ready to believe the worst about Hugh’s intentions towards his young cousin, while expecting him to believe the best about her. But, whatever he thought, she knew she couldn’t count on him to interfere with Serlo’s decision. It was really up to her to help herself. Meanwhile there was Hamo to consider. As she was not going anywhere soon, she might instead ponder where the child might be.

Try as Janna would, she could think of no place that hadn’t already been searched. Her thoughts took a different tack. Was she making too much of Hugh’s relationship to Hamo? Did the theft prove that no-one wished Hamo any harm? While Janna tried to tell herself that the child had merely run away once more in search of his dog, and that he’d become lost, she was filled with dread that he was lying somewhere, bound and gagged, or even worse, already dead.

She shook her head, trying to dismiss her fear. Worry over Hamo was taking her nowhere. Once again, at the back of her mind, came the thought that she knew something, had seen something that might shed some light on Hamo’s disappearance. She sat quietly, trying to free her mind of all her worries so that the missing memory might take their place. But nothing came to her. The knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach. She was trapped here and, if Serlo kept his word, she would face the forester, and maybe even the sheriff, in the morning. Face them alone, without Edwin.

Suddenly angry, she pounded her fist into the hay. It wasn’t fair that he’d run off without a word, leaving her to face this mess on her own. Where could he be? Once he’d recognised the travellers, would he have hurried off to Winchestre on his own, not knowing that the travellers themselves planned to go there? It seemed unlikely. Edwin knew she wanted to go to Winchestre. He would have told her his plans; he would have taken her with him because his own safe passage lay with her and with their story.

He must be lying low then, waiting for the travellers to leave so that he could safely show his face again. The forest? Was he hiding there once more? It was possible. Even so, Janna found it hard to believe that he would not have got word to her somehow. Who else could he trust if not his travelling companion?

A name came into Janna’s mind, and she frowned and sat straighter as she recalled Edwin’s earlier disappearances. She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her forehead against them as she began to sort out the arguments both for and against the one person to whom Edwin might turn for help, and trust with his safety. She found that she could think of no arguments against; everything confirmed her new suspicion.

She jumped up, anxious now for action. She had to get out of here, she had to go and find Edwin. She looked about her, realising that her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness. A thin sliver of twilight filtered between the overhanging thatched roof and the top of the sturdy wooden walls, faintly illuminating the contents of the barn. She peered at the hay piled behind her and then, with quickening interest, at the solid shapes of farming implements stacked beside the stout door that shut her in.

She hurried to inspect them, hoping to find a sturdy axe to hack her way through, but there were only some curved sickles, which were the wrong shape for an attack on something as solid as the door. She turned next to a wooden plough with its iron cutting parts. She felt the coulter and share carefully, but they were fixed firmly into place and no good for her purpose anyway. She looked to see what else might be helpful, and saw several flails for threshing corn once the harvest was in.

Janna picked up the long shaft of a jointed flail, and jiggled it experimentally. Yes, it might work. It was certainly worth a try. If Serlo meant to keep her locked up, he should have given more thought to his choice of prison. He certainly should not have underestimated her need to escape! She tucked the flail under her arm and began to climb the pile of hay, sneezing ferociously as dust swirled and eddied around her. Her foot slipped; Janna grabbed a handful of hay to save herself. It came away in her grasp and she crashed down into a heap on the hard ground. Hampered by the flail, she tried again, scrambling up and slipping down just as she’d almost reached the top of the stack. Once more she tried, and once more after that. She was utterly determined that Serlo would not find her here in the morning. At last she managed to reach the thin crack of light that marked the division between the wall and the thatched roof. Janna knew she had to hurry for, once the sun set, the villeins would all go to bed rather than waste a precious rush light. Before that happened, there was someone she needed to see, and much for her to do.

She pulled the flail from under her armpit, and thrust the long handle into the thin crack between wall and thatch. Using all her force, she began to push against reeds and straw, levering the stick up and down so that they began to loosen. She sneezed and sneezed again as dust, spiders and earwigs sprinkled down onto her hair and shoulders, but she kept on working until she had dislodged enough thatch to form a small hole. A quick slide down the hay to the farming implements, and this time she climbed with a sickle in her hand, hooking it through the hay to give her extra purchase on her way up again.

The small curved blade cut away the loose reeds one by one until there was a hole large enough to wriggle through. Wasting no time, Janna dived halfway through and peered out into the night.

A quick glance was all she needed. Plunging to the ground head-first would only achieve a broken neck. She wriggled backwards until her feet rested once more on the piled-up hay, and turned around. Balancing on her elbows and stomach, this time she thrust her feet first through the hole she’d made. She eased herself through, pushing until she could hold on no longer. With a cry, quickly stifled, she fell to the ground, landing awkwardly so that an ankle twisted painfully beneath the weight of her body.

At least she was free! Janna stood up carefully, and took a cautious step on her sprained ankle. She sucked in a breath at the sharp pain and quickly shifted her weight to rest on her other foot. What she needed was a stout stick to lean on. She peered anxiously into the dusky darkness, half-expecting Serlo to pounce on her once more. But everyone who was not out on the search had gone indoors for supper and to bed. Keeping to the shadows, Janna left the manor and hobbled towards the carpenter’s cottage as fast as her sore ankle would carry her.

She knocked on the door. It was opened by Bertha herself. Janna watched her closely, looking for any signs she might have missed when she’d questioned her once before. ‘I give you good night, mistress,’ she said in a friendly fashion.

‘God be with you.’ Bertha looked out past Janna’s shoulder, scanning the track that gave access to the villeins’ cots. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked curiously, bringing her attention back to Janna.

‘I’m looking for Edwin.’

‘Why should you think I know where he is?’ A scowl masked Bertha’s pleasant features. Janna wondered if she was going to have the door slammed shut in her face. She quickly leaned against it to prevent the possibility.

‘Several reasons,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I always thought Edwin was shy with girls. I also know he kept away from them because, with no home and no prospects, he has nothing to offer a wife. He told me so himself. But now I’m not so sure.’ She peered at Bertha in the pale light of the rising moon. ‘You’re in love with him, aren’t you?’

‘Why should you think so?’ Bertha cast a quick glance over her shoulder, perhaps to check on her family’s whereabouts. She stepped outside the cottage, forcing Janna to move away from the door.

‘Because you came over and sat with Edwin and me instead of with your family at medale.’ Janna noticed Bertha hadn’t denied the claim. It gave her the confidence to continue. ‘Because Edwin knew that your sister wanted to dance with me, which meant that he must have met your family already. Because he wasn’t around when the haystack was fired and we were trying to put out the blaze. Was he off dallying with you, mistress?’

Bertha’s lips clamped firmly together. Janna waited for her denial, but it still didn’t come. ‘Also,’ Janna continued, wondering if she was being rash, building too much into Bertha’s parting remark after she’d cut her hair, but deciding to take the chance anyway. ‘You know who – or what – I really am. Edwin would not have told you that unless he trusted you.’

Silence greeted Janna’s remarks.

‘If it’s any help, I think Edwin cares for you too, mistress,’ Janna continued, remembering how angry Edwin had been when she’d passed on the cook’s gossip concerning Bertha. She’d misread the situation at the time, thinking he was upset about Gytha. But she was quite sure she was on the right track now. ‘You were carrying a small sack when I asked you to cut my hair. That was food for Edwin, wasn’t it? You’re hiding him somewhere.’

Still Bertha remained silent. Janna began to lose patience with her. ‘You can trust me,’ she snapped. ‘Edwin does. We’re in this together, you know.’

Bertha blinked. She opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again, looking undecided. Janna decided to help her out. ‘Do you know that Edwin and I are being blamed for the theft of some woollen cloth and two silver goblets? Have you seen any such things, mistress?’

‘No.’ Bertha licked dry lips. ‘No, of course not!’

‘Then it would be good if Edwin came out of hiding to speak his innocence. As it is, I’ve been locked up in a barn for the theft.’

Now Bertha looked thoroughly bewildered. ‘But I escaped,’ Janna explained, continuing earnestly, ‘Mistress, if you know where Edwin is, and if you value truth and justice, I beg you to take me to him now.’

Still Bertha hesitated. Janna itched to give her a push, just to get her moving. She restrained herself with difficulty. ‘Did Edwin tell you about the visitors to the manor?’ she asked instead, wondering just how much he had taken Bertha into his confidence. She was fearful that she might be jeopardising his safety with her question, but she also needed something to convince Bertha to help her.

It was some relief when Bertha nodded slowly. Janna decided to put her mind at rest if it would help her cause. ‘It is true that the travellers look for Edwin, but that is not their main purpose for being here. They are on their way to trade goods at the fair in Winchestre, and have only delayed their visit while their horse is lame. And they are also helping in the search for Hamo.’ The thought diverted Janna for a moment. ‘You don’t know where Hamo is, do you?’