Devilʼs Brew: The Janna Chronicles 5 (13 page)

She was too afraid to go directly to the tavern, and so cut down through the laneways and into the yard instead. The gate had been wrested from its mooring post and lay buckled and useless to one side. To Janna’s relief, the tavern itself seemed intact, although the brew house bore the charcoal scars of a passing fire. She pushed open the door and ventured inside. Barrels of ale stood against the wall, but when she bent down to unstopper the bung, suddenly desperate to slake her thirst, she realized the barrel had been drained dry. As had the other two, she noted, when she saw the discarded bungs lying on the ground. The mash tun and containers had also been emptied. Some of the brewing utensils were gone, perhaps looted or taken to the cellar for safekeeping. Everything else had been trampled underfoot and was damaged beyond repair. It was utter, senseless vandalism, and Janna shook her head over the waste of it.

“What are you doing in here? Get out!” The voice was shrill, but Janna knew it all the same. She whirled around, and saw the terror leach from Sybil’s face as she recognized her. “And just what do you think you’re doing in here?” the taverner demanded, as she sheathed the sharp knife she’d wielded in readiness to protect herself and her property.

“I came to see if you were all right, mistress, if you had survived the terror.” Janna was surprised at the surge of relief she felt on seeing Sybil. Sudden tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them back, feeling foolish. But the taverner had noticed, and her expression softened.

“Yes,” she said shortly. “Wat, Ossie and I took refuge in the cellar, but Elfric left to protect his family and we haven’t seen him since. Those whoresons ransacked my tavern – and the brew house too, as you see. But thanks be to God, they got too drunk to find the hatch leading to the cellar, and that saved our lives.” Sybil shuddered at the memory.

“I was very angry with you for changing the recipe of my ale,” she continued. “And I was furious when you ran out without my permission. I was resolved not to take you back, not under any circumstances. Later, I feared for your safety, for I know what happens to women when soldiers get hold of them! But it seems that in spite of everything you have survived, and I own that I am pleased to see you. I know, now, that in the midst of all this carnage there’s no room for petty grievances.” She paused for a moment, considering. “I cannot pay you for your services, Janna, at least not for the moment. Most of my stores have gone, and it may be some while before I can open my doors to customers again. But you may take shelter here, and share what little food we have, if you’ll help me put the place to rights. Do you agree?”

“Oh, I do! Thank you, mistress.” Janna restrained herself from throwing her arms around Sybil in gratitude. “I will do all I can to help you,” she promised, as she followed her into the tavern. It was a chaotic jumble of smashed stools, benches and tables inside. Looking around at the damage, Janna realized that much had gone missing; Sybil would have to start her business all over again. She glanced at the taverner, thinking to commiserate with her loss, and saw her nod with satisfaction.

“They destroyed what they couldn’t take,” she confirmed, adding with a twinkle, “but they missed out on just about everything of value.” And she beckoned Janna to follow her to the hatch in the darkened corner, so that Janna could see for herself what had been saved, and what needed to be done to set the place to rights again.

The glorious colors of autumn gave way to the cold winds of winter as the people of Winchestre salvaged what little they could in order to put food in their mouths and rebuild shelter for their families. The townsfolk’s earlier enthusiastic support for the empress’s cause had waned, although they still spoke of the king, his mercenaries and the London militia with disgust and virulent curses – but quietly, for the bishop openly supported his brother now and no-one wanted to risk being branded a traitor. But the townsfolk could neither forget nor forgive what had happened in the aftermath of the siege. All of them had either suffered personally or knew someone whose house or shop had been looted and destroyed. Family members had been tortured or put to death. Those who had managed to survive lived on the borderline of starvation, for crops had been destroyed and animals butchered to feed the marauding armies. They scavenged fields, rivers, hedgerows and woodland for anything edible, be it weeds, birds, squirrels, coneys or even fish, if they were lucky enough to catch one. But many, in the extremes of hunger, resorted to eating vermin, including rats and mice. There was no money to spend in any of the alehouses or taverns, although Sybil did her best to ensure that there was always ale on tap and at least one dish available for those few travelers who came their way.

Not even the parish churches had been safe from the ravages of the London militia and the Flemish mercenaries. Some reported twenty, others said that as many as forty churches had been either burned to the ground or looted and destroyed. It seemed a miracle that the priest had managed to keep the cathedral and all its occupants safe.

As Janna had suspected, the situation between king and empress was still not resolved, and the ebb and flow of their fortunes was discussed nightly among their few patrons. In a shocked whisper, one traveler reported the news that, in her panic to get away from Winchestre, the empress had galloped twenty miles to Litlegarsele in the company of Brian fitz Count and Reginald of Cornwall.

“But she didn’t feel safe even there, so she insisted on riding another eighteen miles to the castle at Devizes.” The packman paused, with a glint in his eye, to take a refreshing gulp of ale. “For the sake of speed, and safety, she rode astride her mount like a man,” he confided. “That’s what one of the servants at Devizes told me, and he had it as an eyewitness report from the empress’s own party. But it seems even Devizes wasn’t considered safe enough, and so the empress decided to press on to Gloucestre. But by then she was so saddle sore and exhausted they had to strap her onto a litter between two horses. That was how she entered Gloucestre, and by then she was more dead than alive, so the servant said!” The packman looked about, well pleased with the effect of his news on the assembled customers, especially when one of them offered to buy him another ale.

“And now? What will the empress do now?” the customer asked, beckoning Janna over to give their mugs a refill.

The speaker shrugged. “Earl Robert has been captured. What can she do but give up?”

“What of her uncle, the King of Scotland? I heard he’d been taken too.”

The speaker chuckled. “He was taken, all right, not once but three times – and he managed to buy his way out of captivity each time. The earl was not so lucky. He’s too valuable to trade.”

The earl’s fortunes were the subject of great debate and discussion. He was given much credit for fighting a rearguard action at the ford at Stoche and delaying pursuit so that the empress might escape, although in so doing he had been captured, along with several other knights, and was being held prisoner at Roucestre in Kent. Janna wondered if Hugh was among those captured with the earl, and listened avidly whenever the talk turned to that fateful night, hoping for news of him and, by association, also of Godric. She longed to know that they were safe.

New rumors began to circulate. First it was suggested that there be a prisoner exchange, the earl for the king. But the earl would not agree to it, on the grounds that an earl’s life was not worth that of a king. If the king was to be let free, he said, then it should be in return for the freedom of his followers as well as himself. But that was unacceptable, and so a new tactic was tried. This time, on behalf of the king, Bishop Henry offered the earl lordship of the whole land and promised that he’d be second to the king if only he would abandon the empress. But the earl refused all bribes and blandishments and stayed steadfastly loyal to his half-sister.

Opinion was greatly divided on the wisdom of this, with some believing he should change sides like all the other barons had done, while others praised him for his loyalty and courage. Another rumor began to circle in the tavern: that Stephen’s queen, on realizing that the earl was not open to bribes, had threatened to send him to imprisonment in Normandy. But in return, Robert had told her that her husband, the king, would spend the rest of his days in captivity in the wilds of Ireland.

It seemed they’d reached a stalemate. As the weeks passed, the people of Winchestre waited to see what would happen next. Now that everything had settled down, travelers began to pass through Winchestre in greater numbers, bringing more news from outside. Janna kept her ears continually stretched for any news of Hugh, Godric or Ulf. She’d continued to comb the city, hoping to catch sight of them, but they seemed to have disappeared. She alternated between hope that they’d managed to escape, and despair that they had not.

Meanwhile, there were new developments in the fight for the crown, news that set everyone aflutter, for it meant that royalty might come again to Winchestre. There were mixed feelings about it: excitement at seeing the royal family set against a deep and abiding resentment for the damage their armies had done. But the feelings of the townsfolk weren’t taken into account, for once it had become clear to the bishop that the earl’s loyalty could not be bought with promises, and that threats wouldn’t work either, new and elaborate negotiations for a prisoner exchange began, this time with the earl’s blessing.

At last, and according to the agreed arrangements, the king was released from the castle keep at Bristou. From there he traveled to Winchestre, where the earl awaited him, leaving his wife and family as sureties for the earl’s release. Once the king arrived safely in Winchestre, the earl was freed. Leaving his son as surety for the return of the queen, the earl then set out for Bristou. And finally, when the queen and her companions were safely returned to Winchestre, the earl’s son was released to join his father.

And so everyone went free at last, and it was as if the empress’s rise in fortune had never happened. The king’s barons once more swore their allegiance to him, and he celebrated the Christ Mass at Canterberie in fine style and with a crown on his head. Meanwhile, the empress and her entourage had set up their headquarters at Oxeneford Castle, and everyone wondered who would strike the next blow in the bid for the crown.

All this was common conjecture in the tavern. Thanks to Sybil’s hoard of coins, and careful trading with traveling merchants and property owners far enough away to have escaped the worst of the siege, the tavern had come back into the business of serving ale and wine long before the alehouses in the high street, attracting customers who showed no signs of changing their allegiance once Hell, and later Paradise and Heaven, opened their doors for business. Janna took partial credit for the tavern’s continuing success. Before winter set in and it was too late to gather herbs, one of her tasks had been to walk out into the water meadows to cut herself another stout stirring stick of ash, and to gather a quantity of ash keys, sage, wild hops and other herbs for the gruit so that she could continue to make the ale to her mother’s old recipe.

This she did with Sybil’s consent, persuaded as the taverner was by customers clamoring for the “new ale” they had tasted before the troubles began. Janna noticed the taverner kept an eagle eye on her preparations, obviously keen to find out the recipe so she could use it herself. But after Sybil’s kindness to her, Janna did not begrudge showing her how the gruit was made, explaining how adding honey would make the brew stronger, and wild hops and ash keys would help it stay fresh for longer.

Once the danger was over, Elfric had returned, and he and Janna and Sybil continued to get in each other’s way in the brew house as they fought for use of the fire burning there. Meanwhile Sybil used her connections, as well as some of the coins she’d saved, to order a supply of wine from Normandy, and also to rebuild the kitchen along with a new bake house. She supervised the workmen and harried at their heels until it was done.

As soon as the kitchen was in working order once more, Elfric lit the fire in the new hearth and set to creating pottages and stews, using whatever supplies Sybil had managed to save, buy or scrounge. The fare was not nearly as bountiful as before, and Janna suspected that as well as bartering, there was much gleaning in the wild going on, for food as well as for firewood. Some dishes had a distinctly unusual taste – dog, perhaps, or horse meat – disguised by a liberal seasoning of herbs and mustard, imported spices no longer being available. But so long as sufficient quantities of ale and wine were quaffed, the fare was also wolfed down with apparent relish. In these hard times, people were delighted to find food and drink to fill their bellies, even if they struggled to pay for it.

It was a cruel winter, bitterly cold and with a constant driving rain, and Ossie nailed pieces of hide over the windows to keep out the drafts and the wet. The cresset lights that burned continually cast a glow around the tap room, creating a cosy snugness, although the air was tainted by their vapor and the smoke from the fire. Janna continued to keep a lookout for Godric and Hugh, and also for Ulf, but there was no sign of them. Not even the merchant or his companions came in. She was surprised, for the Bell and Bush was one of only a few places still serving wine, and she’d thought that might be enough to tempt the merchant to make peace with Sybil. She wondered if the taverner minded his absence, and if she still harbored a soft spot for him in spite of everything. The thought came to her that the merchant might have died during the siege, as so many townsfolk had done. Or he might have lost everything and no longer had the coin to pay for his ale, or wine, or even his leman. Many people were starving, scavenging for food, shelter and something to keep them warm in the bitter winter weather. Only those with a pressing need to travel took to the road; most stayed thankfully indoors, conserving their energy and what little goods they had.

After the siege, and perhaps in atonement for the damage his firebrands had done to the city, the bishop had summoned a synod with the purpose of trying to alleviate the misery of his people. It was decreed that a plow should have the same privilege of sanctuary as churches, and that anyone attacking those engaged in agricultural labor would be excommunicated. But it was too late; the marauders had not left even the wherewithal to plow the land and sow seed for the coming year. While men could queue for the dole at the Hospital of St Cross and receive at least one meal a day sufficient to feed themselves and their families, many others went hungry. It was some comfort to Janna to know that Sybil did what she could, doling out leftover scraps and sometimes even good food, if there was any to spare, to those desperate women and children who came begging for help.

Numbers visiting the tavern dwindled, as did Sybil’s hoard of coins. But the fire continued to burn bright, offering warmth and shelter and the illusion of peace and comfort. At Janna’s suggestion, but only after a long argument, Sybil lowered the price of a mug of ale to persuade customers away from the alehouses and into the tavern. While this swelled the number of their patrons, it did nothing to increase Sybil’s popularity along the high street.

Janna worried continually about Godric and Hugh. Had they got away to safety, or had they been captured along with the Earl of Gloucestre and his party? She knew well that neither was wealthy enough to be worth a ransom, especially not Godric. But Hugh’s aunt might be prepared to pay the price for them. Or Hugh’s betrothed? But Eleanor’s father disapproved of the match; he would be in no hurry to hand over good silver for an unwanted son-in-law and his companion. Janna was haunted by the thought that Godric and Hugh, and also Ulf, had been slaughtered along the road, like so many others who’d been caught in the trap.

Occasionally, when she had some free time, she visited the ruins where once her father’s house had stood, hoping that she might find him there, but she always returned discouraged and disheartened by his seeming indifference to the state of his property. Common sense said that her father wouldn’t let his estate stand in ruins indefinitely, that either he would come himself or appoint someone to come in his place. But how long would it take? And what if no-one ever came? She greatly missed Ulf’s cheerful presence, and wished he was there to give her some advice, for he knew well the ways of the world and its people and she was sure he would know what to do for the best.

*

As the iron-hard earth of winter at last yielded to soft spring rain and new growth, the hides were taken down from the windows to let in pale sunlight, and Sybil declared that the tavern needed a good spring cleaning. Janna soon discovered that this was hard work, for it meant a fresh whitewash for the walls and a change of rushes for the floor, but at last the doors of the tavern were opened wide and welcoming. With a new brew of ale ready for serving, Janna fixed a green bush outside and rang the bell. She paused a few moments on the doorstep, savoring the sunlight, fancying she could feel its slight warmth through the fabric of her tunic. She tipped her face up and closed her eyes, feeling the touch of the sun on her face like a blessing. On a day like today, all things seemed possible.

She ventured further to look up and down the high street. All around the city now were signs of rejuvenation. A few people were out and about for, with the gradual rebuilding of the town, traders and townsfolk alike had begun to visit once more the shops and pentices that were springing up along the street, and the markets that were again finding goods to trade. With coins in their purses, they visited the tavern as well. Although a ready source of credit and money supply had dried up when the Jews had fled their burning homes, some had now begun to trickle back and had started to build up their businesses. Their presence gave confidence to a town badly in need of a belief in itself. Everywhere Janna looked, she could see signs that people were ready to put the past behind them and get on with their lives. Even nature was in tune with the town’s regeneration, she thought, as she noticed the daffodils that had thrust their golden heads through a small patch of straggly grass. She felt a lifting of her spirits and smiled at them, taking courage from their shining faces. She went inside, through the tavern, and out to the brew house in the yard to fill pitchers and get everything ready for the day’s trading.