Devilʼs Brew: The Janna Chronicles 5 (10 page)

“You could go to Normandy, seek him out there,” Ulf ventured.

“Where? How?” Janna’s voice was flat with despair.

“You’re right, lass. It’s probably best if you stay here and wait. I suspect he never got the message you sent him. Either that, or this blessed trouble between his kin has kept him away. But once he hears what’s happened to his property, someone must surely come to oversee the new building and manage your father’s affairs. You just need to keep looking out for him.”

“Do you think my father might come himself?” Sudden hope brought new light to Janna’s eyes.

“Aye, ’tis possible. Why not stay here a while longer and see what happens? Besides, it’s more than your life’s worth to try to leave Winchestre right now. I’ll stay on a bit myself. There’s a lot of people who are in need of comfort and are willing to pay for it.” Ulf patted his bag. It seemed to Janna that it was less bulky than usual, bearing out the truth of his words. “But I’ll have to move on eventually. There’ll be nowt left for me here once the troubles die down. I might go on to London. I need to find somewhere safe and with enough trade to keep me going through the winter.”

He looked so apologetic, Janna hastened to reassure him. “I understand. Don’t worry about me, Ulf. I’ll manage on my own. I’ll do as you say. I’ll wait until spring next year, and if no-one’s arrived by then I’ll go to Normandy myself.” Her spirits quailed at the thought, but she kept a bright smile on her face. She didn’t want Ulf to feel sorry for her.

“At least you have employment and shelter here.” In spite of his comforting words, Ulf didn’t look too happy about it.

“And I’ve been promoted! See, today I’m in charge of the brew!” Sudden doubt assailed Janna. “Wait a moment. Taste this, and tell me what you think.” She poured some of the new ale into two mugs and held one out to Ulf. “It’s my own special recipe. I just hope it meets with Sybil’s approval – not to mention the ale taster!”

“I shouldn’t worry about him,” Ulf advised, as he took the mug from her. “The people of Winchestre have more important things on their minds than waiting for an official to say whether they can drink a new brew or not.” He sniffed the brew and then took a cautious sip.

Janna took a mouthful from her own mug, and was instantly transported into the past as she savored the contents. She swallowed the ale in a long series of gulps. “What do you think? Do you like it?” she asked anxiously.

Ulf sipped again. “Hmm,” he said doubtfully. “I’m not too sure about this one, lass.”

“Ulf!” Janna felt devastated, until she noticed the bright twinkle in his eyes. He grinned at her and drained his mug.

“Delicious!” He smacked his lips. “This is a right good brew. I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.” He tipped up the mug to lick the last few drops. “It’s a bit sweeter than usual, and there’s summat in it I can’t quite tell. What is it?”

“It’s…” Janna began, but decided instead to keep the recipe a secret. If Sybil liked the new brew, she would also want to know what Janna had put in it. But if Janna kept the ingredients to herself – well, she would be guaranteed employment for as long as Sybil wanted her brew. “It’s something that will bring you long life and prosperity,” she said.

“I like the sound of that – especially the last bit!”

“Me, too!” Janna picked up an empty pitcher, ready to fill it to the brim. Now that Ulf had given his seal of approval she would try her new brew on the customers.

“I pay you to work for me, not entertain your friends.” Sybil’s voice signaled her coming, and Ulf shot Janna a guilty glance. She grimaced in return, remembering how the taverner had scolded her predecessor. But she was no Ebba, and the taverner knew it. Janna felt secure enough to defend herself.

“Ulf had some urgent news to give me.” A wave of misery washed over her as she faced again the full extent of her loss. But she struggled on. “He’s not interrupting my work. See, I’ve already strained the wort. It’s ready.” She quickly removed the bung from the barrel and filled the jug.

“Hmm.” The taverner wasn’t prepared to back down quite so easily. “You’d better get back to the tavern and start serving it, then.” She sniffed the air and shot Janna a suspicious glance. “You haven’t been tampering with the ale, have you?” As Janna wondered how to reply, Sybil continued, “I’ll finish off here. You get outside and tie the bush to the pole. And take your friend with you.” She flapped her hands at them like a farmwife harrying hens.

Relieved to be pardoned, Janna beckoned Ulf to follow and quickly led the way to the tavern. Once over the threshold, she stopped to let her eyes adjust to the dim light within. Automatically she looked about at all the customers, wondering who was first in line, who the most impatient, and who the most important. Who should she serve first? With a sudden gasp, she lowered her head and skipped behind Ulf.

“Hide me,” she whispered, as she tried to sidle backward through the door.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, so bewildered by her actions that he stepped aside, leaving her once more exposed to the eyes of all the patrons. It was too late; Janna had seen the sudden flash of recognition in Godric’s eyes even as she’d tried to duck out of his sight.

“I have to go!” She thrust the jug into Ulf’s hands and took to her heels. She was almost at the brew house when she heard Godric’s voice.

“Janna?”

For a moment she thought to dash into the brew house and hide, but common sense told her that he had followed her outside and would continue to follow her until he’d seen for himself whether or not he was mistaken. Reluctantly, she swung around to face him.

“Janna,” he said again, more softly this time. His hand trembled as he reached for her arm, as if to make sure she was real. His touch ran through Janna’s body with the force of a lightning bolt. Dazed, she stared up at him, slowly becoming aware of the changes that time had wrought. Godric was a man now, tall and with shoulders broad and strong enough to bear whatever troubles might come his way. Janna had the impression that hardship and disappointment had molded the angular planes of his face, even though his expression showed only his delight in seeing her again. His clothes reflected his new status while emphasizing his manly physique: the knee-length wool tunic stretched wide across his shoulders and was belted around his narrow waist. It was worn with long breeches and fine leather shoes, as befitted the companion of a lord.

Conscious of her own lowly status, Janna freed herself from his grasp and backed away, fighting an overwhelming sense of loss as she did so.

“What are you doing here? Christ Jesu, Janna, what has brought you to this?” Godric’s voice carried no condemnation, only concern as he surveyed her homespun tunic and stained apron, so different from the sober garb of a lay sister. “I’d heard you’d left the abbey, but hoped you’d found safety and happiness elsewhere.”

Although numb with despair, Janna tried to summon up a smile. She would have given anything to avoid this meeting, yet it seemed that, after all she had endured, there was still a final humiliation she must undergo.

“Janna?” Ulf asked anxiously.

“It’s all right, Ulf. I know this man. He’s my…friend.”

Ulf nodded. Godric watched until the relic seller had disappeared through the door of the tavern before turning back to Janna. “I thought I’d never see you again! I can’t believe my good fortune in finding you here!” He reached out to caress her cheek. At his gentle touch, a host of memories tumbled through Janna’s mind. Their meeting in the forest when he’d rescued her from a wild boar. His help and support during their desperate search for a missing boy, a search that had almost ended with their own deaths. Now, when it was too late, she realized that Godric had always been there when she needed him; always ready with wise counsel; always safe, dependable and strong.

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to contain the emotions that surged through her like a tidal wave. Seeing him here, standing in front of her, had made her realize she was mistaken in her belief that what she felt for Godric was friendship. Stricken, she stared at him as another memory came into her mind: her curt dismissal when he’d told her he loved her, when he’d asked her to be his wife. How could he forgive her for that? And why should she think he would wait for her, when she had left the abbey without telling him that she was going or if she’d ever return. Meanwhile Cecily was close at hand and available, and Janna was sure their overlord would be more than happy to give his permission for them to be wed.

Now that it was too late, Janna could finally understand her devastation when she’d seen him with Cecily in the marketplace, and mistaken them for man and wife. Not friendship. Love. She closed her eyes so that he could not read her pain.

“Janna,” he said quietly. She felt his arms fold around her, and draw her close. Shutting her mind to her fears, she moved into his embrace. His kiss melted her heart, her bones, her body. This, then, was how it felt to be held, to be loved, to be wanted and valued. She clung to him as his kiss, gentle at first, became more urgent, more demanding, and her body responded to his touch. She was on fire with wanting and understood, from the way Godric held her, that his need was just as great. All thought stopped as she gave herself up to the dizzying sweetness of being held by a lover who would make her his own. She had no sense of time passing until a stern voice brought her back to her surroundings.

“Janna! You forget yourself! There are customers about!”

Mortified, Janna realized that Sybil must have been watching them until her patience ran out. She reluctantly freed herself from Godric’s embrace, becoming aware once more of the odoriferous yard, stained with puddles of spit, vomit and piss, and the patrons hurrying to and from the latrine.

“I must get back to work,” she told him, shame staining her face at how low she had fallen.

Godric nodded in understanding. But his voice was heavy with warning as he said, “We are well met for another reason, Janna. Sire Hugh is inside and you should speak to him. I’ll keep him in the tavern until you have a free moment to hear his news.”

“Don’t you go back in there empty-handed. You’ve neglected our customers for long enough!” Sybil beckoned to Janna from the doorway of the brew house. Janna squirmed with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, mistress,” she said, hoping the taverner didn’t think she carried on like that with other patrons of the tavern. “Godric is an old friend and – ”

“And a dear one, by the look of things.” A small smile quirked the taverner’s lips, giving Janna comfort that she hadn’t been misunderstood after all.

“Very dear,” she confirmed, thinking Sybil not quite so hard-headed and hard-hearted as she liked to pretend. Anxious to prove that she still had her mind on her work, Janna quickly filled two large pitchers with the new brew and took them across the yard to the tavern.

“And get that bush tied up outside!” Sybil shouted after her.

A swift glance around established the fact that Godric was seated at a table with Hugh. They were waiting to be served, like any other customers. She noted that Hamo wasn’t with them, and felt a surge of relief that the boy must be safely home again at Hugh’s manor.

Trying to conceal her agitation, Janna set down the pitchers and looked about for the bush. It was brown now, and wilting at the edges, but still recognizable for what it was. Once she’d tied it to the pole, she rang the bell to attract the attention of any who might not already know about the new brew. That done, she hurried back inside and began to serve the ale, all the while conscious of Godric’s and Hugh’s close watch on her. She felt deeply ashamed of her straitened circumstances; she couldn’t imagine what Hugh must think of her. But Godric’s kiss had buoyed her spirits, and she told herself that his opinion was the only one that mattered.

“It is well that Godric has found you, for we need to talk,” Hugh said, as she paused momentarily at a table close by to set down a trencher of griddle cakes and a stew that she suspected had more hedgerow weeds and herbs than meat and vegetables in it.

“As soon as I have a free moment,” Janna promised.

Her opportunity came during a quiet lull after everyone’s mug had been filled and food had been served. Hugh beckoned her over. “If the taverner complains, tell her we’re ordering a meal,” he said, with a glance over Janna’s shoulder at Sybil. Janna looked down at the empty trenchers in front of the pair, and raised an eyebrow.

“That dish of pottage wasn’t very filling.”

Janna felt indignant on Sybil’s behalf. “Supplies have become scarce in Winchestre. You should know that many people are starving, my lord, with not even our poor fare to fill their bellies!”

“I know that. It’s an excuse to talk to you, that’s all.” Hugh lowered his voice. “I didn’t believe my uncle when he told me he’d seen you.”

“Lord Robert knows I am here?” Janna drew herself erect, sweating with sudden fright as she absorbed the news of this new threat.

Hugh nodded soberly. “I’m afraid he does. That is – ” He checked himself. “He said he thought he’d seen you in the cathedral, helping to tend the sick. He himself had a
slight
wound, which he said needed attention.” Hugh’s emphasis on the word “slight” told Janna what he thought of his uncle’s courage – or the lack of it. “I told him he must have been mistaken, and I think he agreed with me, but I’ve been looking for you ever since, just in case. I must say, I never expected to find you in here. We only stopped at this tavern because we were hungry. And thirsty.”

Janna looked at Godric. “I’m so glad you did,” she said.

“But why are you here? Why are you working as a…a…” Hugh flapped his hands in the air, unwilling to put into words how far Janna had fallen.

“I’m…” Janna was about to tell them of her search for her father and how near she was to finding him, but realized that there was nothing left to tell. Despair filled her as she recalled Ulf’s news of the ruined manor house. “Now that I’ve left the abbey I have to work for my living,” she said instead.

Hugh bent closer, his voice so low that Janna had to lean down to hear him more clearly. “Do not fear Robert,” he whispered. “I shall tell him I have looked everywhere for you and that he was definitely mistaken. But you must take care to stay out of his way, for he hasn’t forgiven you and will do all he can to bring you down.”