Devilʼs Brew: The Janna Chronicles 5 (14 page)

It seemed to Janna that even the tavern’s customers were happier, thanks to the change of season. Instead of complaining about the empress and the king, lamenting what had passed and fearing what might happen in the future, they spoke of what had been accomplished since the siege, and what more they hoped to achieve. There was laughter and good-humored bantering, and Janna found herself smiling as she served them all in turn.

But she was lonely, so lonely. In spite of her belief that she would never see him again, thoughts of Godric haunted her. Janna prayed that they’d followed Hugh’s advice to her and had made it safely home, even if it meant that Godric and Cecily would now be wed, and possibly Hugh as well. But what most exercised her mind were thoughts of her father. She’d begun to despair that he would ever come to Winchestre, yet every time her thoughts turned to Normandy, her courage failed her. First she would have to journey south to a port, and find a ship to take her across the sea. How would she pay for such a thing? And once she arrived there, what then? She had only the vaguest notion of where Normandy was, or how big an area she would have to search. She knew only that her father lived there, but not where his home might be.

Sybil was waiting for her in the brew house. “You’ve worked hard over the past months, Janna.” The taverner dipped in the pocket sewn into her apron and pulled out two silver pennies. “I told you I couldn’t pay you a wage when you came back, but you deserve a reward now. It’s partly thanks to you that the tavern is as popular as it is.” A gleam of satisfaction brightened Sybil’s face as she continued, “We’ve gained quite a few customers from Hell, Heaven and Paradise!” She held the coins out to Janna. “Keep them safe and trust no-one.”

Janna thanked her and pocketed them in her own apron. She hid a wry smile as she remembered the wealth she had once possessed, yet she had earned these coins by her own endeavors and they were doubly precious because of it. And as she pocketed them, the idea that had been lurking at the back of her mind suddenly became a distinct possibility: she could make and sell some of the creams and medicaments her mother taught her for now she had the means to purchase the extra ingredients she would need. Her work at the tavern had only ever been to keep her alive while she searched for her father, and the sale of her potions would help provide her with the means to travel to Normandy, if that was necessary.

*

As a first step, she took an inventory of the small patch of garden she now used as her own. She’d already planted a number of healing herbs, but she was determined to add to her collection so that she could also concoct the scented creams and lotions she’d once made for sale in the market place at Wiltune. Janna resolved to walk the lanes and water meadows once more, to take cuttings or else uproot and bring back some sweetly scented flowering plants. Roses and meadowsweet, violets and lavender too, if she could find some. It occurred to her that some of the plants in her father’s garden might have survived the ravages of the firestorm. She would investigate the garden next time she went to inspect the site, and would salvage what she could.

As spring rolled on, and the days grew longer and warmer, Janna’s small garden became ripe for plunder; it was time to start putting her plan into practice. To this end, she visited the apothecary to spend the coins Sybil had given her on beeswax, olive oil, and other items necessary for her preparations. She knew that once she set out on this course, she was committing herself to staying on in Winchestre, but if her venture succeeded, it would bring in coins enough to travel in comfort and safety at a later date – if her father had still not come. Meanwhile, she listened to the talk in the tavern. According to the travelers who passed through, the empress and her supporters were now holed up in Oxeneford and promising the earth, sky, sun and stars to any who would turn to their cause. It was enough to set the barons squabbling as each fought to gain more while protecting what he already had. Janna was particularly pleased when one traveler reported that the empress’s fortunes had taken an upward turn – it seemed that the king had traveled north to subdue several disturbances and been taken ill at Northampton. Subsequent rumors said that he was near death.

There was also talk that, with the king out of the way, the Earl of Gloucestre had gone over to Anjou to ask Matilda’s husband, Count Geoffrey, for his support in a final siege against the king’s army. News came that he’d been delayed there, fighting alongside Geoffrey to help him secure Normandy. Rather than risk the barons’ wrath by once again promoting herself to the throne, the empress was now promising that, if they would only support her, she would rule in the name of her eldest son, Henry, until he came of age. The next rumors to circulate said the king had recovered and was raising a large army to prevent the earl’s return.

Janna listened to the rumors and continued to worry about her father’s absence, visiting his estate whenever she could take leave from the tavern, in the hope of finding him or his steward there. She also kept a keen eye on the new shoots growing in his garden. Those she knew would be of use were harvested and carefully replanted in the tavern’s kitchen garden. But the house itself was still a ruined heap, although the pile of rubble was fast growing smaller as anything of use was stolen to rebuild properties elsewhere. All over Winchestre, buildings were rising from the ashes. The old palace in the center of the town was one site that had seen no reconstruction. The bishop’s men were reputed to be scavenging there, and using that material to fortify and enlarge the bishop’s palace at Wolvesey, with the excuse that the palace had been cramped too tight and close to the cathedral, and therefore was not worth rebuilding.

A greater scandal centered around the burning of Hyde Abbey, for which the bishop was also held to blame. A fabulous gold cross covered in precious jewels, donated to the abbey by King Cnut himself, had collapsed and melted among the burning ruins. On the bishop’s order, it had been salvaged and stripped. It was said that more than five hundred marks of silver had been recovered and thirty of gold, which were used to pay off those who had fought on the bishop’s behalf during the siege, although the more cynical claimed that most of the proceeds had probably found their way into the bishop’s own bulging coffers.

But at least part of his wealth was being put to good use, for both Hyde Abbey and St Mary’s Nunnaminster were being rebuilt. Apparently the bishop was anxious to make amends for the damage done to these holy places by his firebrands. The London militia and the queen’s mercenaries took the blame for everything else, for they had swept through Winchestre like a plague of rats, leaving terror and destruction in their wake. Horrifying tales of torture and death were still being whispered in taverns and alehouses, the stories accompanied by curses and tears. Buildings might be renewed, but shattered lives and broken hearts took much, much longer.

Janna took note of the changes as she hurried through the streets of Winchestre, passing masons, sawyers, carpenters, joiners, plasterers, smiths, coopers, carriers, thatchers, painters, craftsmen, and laborers alike, all of them busy about the task of rebuilding a once great town. The market close to the cathedral cemetery was trading again, as was a smaller market close to the north wall. Her father’s estate was one of only a few sites that still lay idle. She wondered if her father had been caught up in the troubles in Normandy. She wondered if he’d decided to abandon his estate in England for all time. She wondered if he was already dead.

*

Janna’s usual welcoming smile, as she noticed a new customer, turned into a broad grin and a shout of delight when she recognized Ulf. The relic seller had come into the tavern, sat down, and deposited his heavy pack beside his stool before she noticed him, and his cry of delight echoed her own.

“Janna! I thought I’d never see you again!” He jumped up to embrace her, and they exchanged delighted hugs. He pushed her away then, and studied her closely.

“I looked for you everywhere on that last terrible day,” he said. “Mistress Sybil said you’d run away, that you’d left the night before. She thought you were being chased, although she wasn’t sure why. I feared the worst when I couldn’t find you afterward. What happened to you?”

“I ran to the cathedral and found sanctuary there.” Janna held up her hand as his lips framed a question. “It’s a long story,” she said quickly, “and I’ll tell you about it some other time. I stayed in the cathedral until it was safe to come out, but when we heard what was happening outside I feared the worst for
you
!” She shivered at the memory. “However did you manage to escape?”

“With difficulty.” Ulf grimaced. “As soon as I realized that the earl’s army was in full flight, I hid in that small copse by the water meadows until nightfall. After I’d given up searching for you, I went south by way of hedgerows and fields, putting as much distance as I could between me and those murderous whoresons. Seeing it was the London militia causing the destruction here, I decided that London was probably the safest place for me to be through the winter. So I went there by roundabout ways, and that’s where I’ve been until now. I called in to the tavern in the hope of hearing news of you, lass.” He beamed at Janna. “I tell you, I felt sick at heart when I couldn’t find you. I’m right pleased to see you safe.”

“And I to see you,” Janna assured him. She looked about in sudden concern. “Where’s Brutus?”

“Outside.” Ulf grinned at her. “There’s such a maddle in here, I thought he’d have all the tables and stools knocked over if I brought him in. I’ve left him tied up with the horses.”

“Poor Brutus. I’ll give you some bread and gravy to take out to him to make up for it.” Janna gestured at a stool. “Sit down, and I’ll pour you some ale. No charge! And I’ll come back for a few words as soon as I have a moment to spare.”

Smiling broadly, she filled a mug and brought it to him, then set about serving the other customers who were flocking in, attracted by the sight of the green bush and the sound of the ringing bell. There were more customers than usual this day, for summer was at its height and the days were hot and long. It took her and Sybil some time to get to everyone, fill their mugs, take their orders, and bring trenchers of food to their tables. Janna looked around, content. The tavern was busy, the customers were happy, and now Ulf had come back. All it needed to make everything perfect was for her father to walk in!

Automatically, Janna’s gaze flicked to the door. But if her father came, how would she know him? Would she feel some unconscious affinity to this man, her closest kin? She studied the crowd, testing her reaction to every man of middle age, anyone who might fit her father’s description. But no-one caught her eye, nor did she feel any frisson of connection.

She glanced at Ulf, and felt a surge of hope. She had another pair of eyes to help her keep watch now. If her father, or his steward, came to rebuild the estate, they would be waiting for him.

*

It seemed that good fortune continued to smile on Janna. As she looked up from serving a customer a few days later, she saw Hugh coming through the door of the tavern. Light-headed with relief, she hurried to meet him. “What a pleasure to see you, my lord!” she said, and then noticed the boy following behind Hugh. “And your cousin with you!” She cast an anxious glance around for Godric.

“Janna!” Hamo had grown taller since Janna had last seen him, but he was still young enough to throw his arms around her in uninhibited delight. She hugged him in return, all the while conscious of her ale-splashed apron and homespun tunic. But Hamo seemed unconcerned, his face beaming with joy at the sight of her.

“I am pleased to see you too, Johanna,” Hugh said, his own face relaxing into a relieved smile. “I’ve been worried about you since the last time we met. Please believe me, I tried to prevent…but I couldn’t…er…” He shot a concerned glance at Hamo, and Janna at once understood.

“I managed to evade them and reach sanctuary in the cathedral, my lord. I stayed there throughout the…trouble. But what happened to you? And to Godric? Is he safe too?”

“Quite safe, yes. He chased after…er…and I found out later that he’d tackled him and knocked him out, so we knew you’d got away. Godric told me later that he’d lost sight of you once he’d brought…er…down, but he stayed on in Winchestre for several days, avoiding the king’s troops while he searched for you. It was only after he found no sign of you that he finally came to join us at Tuiforde. We supposed you’d realized from my warning what was about to happen and that you’d managed to flee Winchestre in time. For my part, I knew the earl’s retreat would turn into a hopeless rout. Being concerned for Hamo’s safety should the fighting spread, I left under cover of darkness and travelled across fields and roundabout ways to Sire Geoffrey’s estate.” Hugh’s air of bravado couldn’t quite hide the shame lurking underneath, although Janna understood perfectly why he’d acted as he did. She wondered also how things stood now between Hugh and his betrothed.

“Have you been staying there ever since?” she asked.

“No.” Hugh shook his head. “As soon as it was safe to do so, we took Hamo home to his mother. And delighted she was to see him too! I thought I’d never hear the end of her scolding, taking him into danger as I had.”

“Mama worries too much,” Hamo piped up.

Hugh ruffled his hair affectionately. “Yes, she does,” he agreed. “But with good reason, on this occasion.”

“I thought it was Dame Alice’s own suggestion that you go courting and that Hamo accompany you.”

“So it was. But I got the blame for not bringing him home as soon as the troubles started.”

“And I was only allowed to come back here with Hugh because I gave Mama no peace until she agreed to give me leave.” Hamo grinned broadly at Janna, looking mightily pleased with himself. “Even then, Hugh had to promise Mama that Winchestre was safe again before I was allowed to come.”

“Is that true, my lord? What news is there of the empress and the king?” Janna had assumed things were quiet because there was nothing to tell. Curious, she looked to Hugh for an answer.