Devilʼs Brew: The Janna Chronicles 5 (22 page)

Seething, Janna had to make a huge effort to restrain herself from flying at the merchant’s throat and choking him for his lying words. And yet she was glad to have heard them, for they confirmed her suspicions. Ebba was spreading poison in Hell on behalf of the merchant, while he busied himself likewise in the other two taverns. The two must be working together with Wat. It was the only explanation. The merchant had lied about being in the Bell and Bush, yet he knew all about the attack on Sybil and knew also that she was still alive.

Perhaps it was never meant to go this far. But when the tainted ale and the mouse pie hadn’t succeeded in driving customers away, the attack had followed. With Sybil out of the way, they must have reasoned that the tavern would surely close, leaving the way open for Alan to claim it as he’d always wanted, while giving him a new and desirable source of income. His words indicated that Sybil had indeed been the intended target, not Janna. She felt the great weight of guilt lift from her heart.

But why had Ebba visited Wat? Janna felt a frisson of alarm run down her back as suspicion returned in full force. Now that the pair hadn’t succeeded in removing Sybil, they would surely try again. And if so, what would they do next?

Janna wasn’t left long to wonder what had been planned, for on her return to the tavern she found the door closed tight against her. She could hear Ossie snoring inside. At once she hastened around to the back lane. The gate was still unlocked, and a faint light from the kitchen indicated there’d be someone awake to tell her what was going on. Once inside, she encountered a reproachful Elfric tidying up before going home.

“There’s no ale to serve the customers. Why didn’t you make sure the bungs were tight in the barrels?” he accused her, when she demanded to know why the tavern had closed so early.

“
What?
” Janna turned on her heel and rushed off to the brew house, closely followed by Elfric and also Wat, who’d been lurking about, cadging scraps. As she entered the brew house, her worst fears were confirmed. The hard-packed earth floor was now a pool of reeking mud. Horrified, she checked the barrels: all of them were empty.

“This is no accident, nor carelessness either. This has been done deliberately,” she told Elfric as she tested the last barrel. “And I intend to find out who is responsible.”

Distraught and angry, she straightened, just in time to catch a fleeting smirk cross Wat’s face. The hot blood of anger pulsed through Janna’s veins as she lunged at him, pushing Elfric out of the way to grab tight hold of his ear.

“You!” she shrieked, holding on and shaking him hard. “You sniveling toad! Your sister put you up to this, didn’t she!”

“Did not.” Wat struggled to break free. “You was the last person in the brew house. I saw you come out. Don’t think to blame me, it’s
your
fault.”

“What are you suggesting, Janna?” Elfric put out a hand to save Wat from Janna’s fury, but she gripped harder and gave the boy an extra shake. She was ready to rattle his brains, she was so angry.

“I’m suggesting that Wat was responsible for draining all this ale onto the floor, just as he once put mustard seeds and salt into the ale, and a mouse into your pie!” Janna spat out the words, hardly able to contain her fury.

“But…but why?” Elfric moved then to protect the cowering boy from Janna. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“Ask him!” Janna let go of Wat’s ear. She stuck her hands on her hips and glared at him instead.

He stared back at her, sullen and silent. Janna felt a momentary qualm as she remembered how he’d rushed to her aid, his elation at having got the better of Mus, his assurance that she could call on him whenever she needed help. But things had gone too far now for sentiment to get in the way of the truth. Somehow, she had to get him to confess.

“If he won’t answer, perhaps you should ask his sister and her lover!” she spat. “I know they’re not responsible for this, because I’ve just seen them with my own eyes in the alehouses up the high street, spreading lies and slander about the Bell and Bush, how Sybil lies near death’s door, how the ale tastes like slops and the tavern is about to close. They’re trying to put us out of business, and you’ve been helping them all along, haven’t you, Wat, with all your little tricks and games? You might have thought it was fun, but if Sybil had died I’d have seen you hang for it, Wat.”

“I never done that, you know I never!”

“But you did the other things, didn’t you?” Janna said softly. “Didn’t you, Wat?”

“But…” Elfric looked from one to the other. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s all down to that merchant, isn’t it, Wat?” Janna hoped that by suggesting someone else was to blame, the boy might be encouraged to tell what he knew. “Alan. You know he wanted the tavern for himself, and this was his way of getting it, wasn’t it? He persuaded you to make things go wrong, to drive the customers away. And when that didn’t work, he told you to kill the taverner.”

“No!” The potboy’s eyes were wide with fright. “No, he didn’t! I never! That was nothin’ to do with me. You know that right well, Janna. It was meant to be you with your head bashed in, not Mistress Sybil.”

“Me?” It hadn’t occurred to Janna that Wat might also have misread the situation.

“Like what happened before, only this time that man attacked the wrong ’un!”

Janna was silenced, but not for long, for she was almost sure now that Sybil had indeed been the intended target. “No, Wat, he wasn’t behind this,” she said, hoping she might still get a confession out of him. “The attack was aimed at Mistress Sybil, you know that right enough. When your tricks to close the tavern didn’t work, Alan had to find a way to remove the taverner instead. So who was responsible if not you, Wat? Think carefully, because trying to kill someone is a very serious offense. You don’t want to be blamed for something you didn’t do.”

“It weren’t me, I swear it!”

“Was it your sister, then? Or Alan?”

“I know nothin’ ’bout the attack on Sybil. Nothin’! I swear it! I thought the man that was after you hit her by mistake.” Wat looked frightened to death. It seemed he hadn’t thought through the possible consequences of his actions until now. Janna wondered if he’d been threatened into silence by Alan. Now that the full extent of the plan to take over the tavern had been revealed, the boy seemed terrified. And no wonder, if he’d thought it was just about playing a few tricks.

“I’m quite sure Mistress Sybil was the intended victim,” Janna stated, reading from Elfric’s expression that he shared Wat’s suspicions about the attack. “And I’ll prove it to you,” she added fiercely, even though she wasn’t sure how to go about it. Wat’s denial had shaken her belief that she’d read the situation right. For all their sakes, she needed to find out the truth as soon as possible.

“But I don’t understand why you would play these tricks on us, Wat,” Elfric said. “You’ve got a home here, and employment. Mistress Sybil looked after you through the siege when everyone else had closed their doors. She gave you food and shelter all through the hard winter when so many others were homeless and starving. Could you really wish to cause so much trouble for us?”

Wat sniffed, and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Ebba told me I had to,” he admitted. “She told me Alan was gunna take over the Bell and Bush, and that she’d become the taverner here. She promised she’d take care of me. She said we’d live like kings.” He sniffed again. “It was just fun, like with the mustard seeds and that. But they didn’t hurt Mistress Sybil. You’re wrong about that, Janna.”

Janna wondered if she’d misread the situation after all. She really needed to prove it one way or the other – but at least Wat had admitted to his role in the plot to close the tavern. “So what do we do with you now, Wat?” she asked. She couldn’t forgive him for what he’d done, nor did she want him at the tavern any longer. He’d betrayed them all. They couldn’t trust him.

“I think you’d better go,” she said. She looked at Elfric, and was encouraged when he nodded in agreement. “You can tell your sister and her lover that they won’t get their hands on the Bell and Bush no matter what they try.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe your sister can get you a job where she works? Hell’s the best place for both of you.”

She turned on her heel and walked out of the sodden brew house. She would have to start another brew just as soon as Ossie could bring fresh water, and she would have to double the quantity. It meant the tavern would again be without ale for a few days, but at least a new shipment of wine had come in. Hopefully enough wealthy merchants had come to town for the fair and would be willing to pay the price.

Angry and upset, she lay awake on her pallet beside the fireplace a long time that night. To her dismay, she found that she missed the presence of Wat in the alcove on the other side. He was company; he was also a measure of safety. But he’d packed up his few belongings under the stern eye of Elfric, who had then escorted him to the gate in the yard and made a big show of locking it behind them both before he left. And now Janna lay alone, mulling over what had happened and worrying how she might prove who was behind the attack on Sybil.

Ebba? It seemed less likely now. Wat would surely have known if his sister was responsible.

Mus? She shuddered, and edged closer to the banked-down fire.

The merchant? Sybil had told her that she’d heard something, a sound she recognized. Not footsteps. Not any sort of smell either – which must surely eliminate Mus. Janna turned her thoughts to Alan. He wanted to destroy the tavern’s reputation and take it over – that much was obvious. So he had a motive; he was also well able to carry out the attack. She began to replay all she’d seen and heard that night, and an idea came into her mind. It was a very long chance indeed – but there was nothing else she could think of that might prove her suspicions either way.

*

She rose early, for she wanted Sybil still to be asleep when she came into her room. It was a horrible trick to play on the taverner, but worth it if it produced the truth. She knocked softly on the tavern door, putting her fingers to her lips when Ossie opened it. She tiptoed quietly up the stairs and into Sybil’s chamber, and hid out of sight behind a large chest while she waited for the taverner to awaken.

A heavy sigh and a creaking of the wooden bed frame as Sybil struggled to sit up warned Janna that it was time to put her idea to the test. She peered cautiously around the chest and was gratified to find that Sybil wasn’t looking at her. The taverner had swung her feet to the floor, and was facing away from Janna. It seemed that she was going to try, once again, to rise from her bed. Although fearing that she would put the taverner’s well-being at risk if her trick succeeded, Janna tiptoed out of hiding and cleared her throat. Hating the action, for she’d never done such a thing in her life before, she cleared her throat and spat on the floor.

Sybil screamed and whirled around to confront the sound. She launched herself at Janna, fists flailing in a desperate attempt to fight her off.

“No! No, mistress, no!” Horrified, Janna tried to protect herself. Through the sound of Sybil’s shrieks she heard a heavy pounding as Ossie galloped upstairs.

“You…you…” Sybil lashed out, hardly able to speak for terror.

“Stop it! It’s me. Janna. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise!”

Ossie burst through the door. He skidded to a halt and blinked as he tried to make sense of the scene. Then he launched himself at Sybil and dragged her off Janna. He wrapped his arms around the taverner and placed her on the bed, keeping a firm grip on her all the while. Sybil shrieked curses at Janna as she struggled to free herself.

“It wasn’t me who attacked you!” Janna spoke slowly and clearly, trying to reach Sybil through her panic; trying to reassure her that she wasn’t responsible for the assault, only for the sound that had triggered Sybil’s memory. “It was Alan,” she said. “He cleared his throat outside the brew house, and then he spat on the ground. He’s always doing that. That was the noise you heard just before he hit you, wasn’t it?”

Still quaking with fear, Sybil nodded dumbly. Janna was appalled that she’d caused such horror, yet she was triumphant too. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “It was a guess, but I didn’t know how else to test what I was thinking.”

Sybil swallowed hard. “You could have just asked,” she said in a hard voice. “You didn’t have to go frightening me to death.”

“It was your death Alan was after,” Janna reminded her. “If I’d asked you, you might not have remembered. You might not have wanted to believe it, even if you did remember. But it seems to me there’s no room to doubt it now.”

Sybil tightened her lips, but gave a grudging nod.

“And there’s something else you need to know about too,” Janna said gently, hating to be the bearer of more bad news. It was hurtful enough that Sybil had found out the truth about a man she must have once loved and trusted. While she might not have had much love for Ebba and Wat, she had employed them and done right by them, and now she would have to find out how shamefully they had repaid her.

“You should hear this too, Ossie,” she said, and nodded at the big man to stay. She began, then, to explain who was behind the recent problems at the tavern, and the reasoning behind their actions, finishing with the wasted ale from the night before. As she spoke, Sybil’s face changed from the blanched white of fear to a deep flush of rage.

“I’ll kill him!” she said fiercely, when Janna had finished setting out all the proof she and Ulf had gathered. “As for that wretched potboy and his slut of a sister – ” She broke off, too choked with rage to continue.

“You can surely bear witness against them instead?” Janna thought there’d been far too much violence already. She remembered Ulf’s offer to help her take care of Mus, and smothered a grin. No doubt that same faceless “someone” would be available to take care of Alan as well – but she wasn’t about to mention it. “Wat might be persuaded to tell the truth, and I’ll certainly tell all I know,” she said instead. “And so will Ulf. You remember Ulf, with the big dog? He’ll also tell what he knows, ’cause he helped me uncover what’s really been going on here.”

Sybil pulled a face. Her hands plucked restlessly at a loose thread in the woven bed covering as she thought through her options. “There’s been precious little law and order around here since the troubles last year,” she said bitterly. “The castellan’s gone. He’s also the shire reeve, but he’s fled the castle along with the empress and her troops, so there’s no-one who’ll listen to my plea. Besides, why would anyone take a taverner’s word against that of a merchant, and a man at that?”

“I would,” Ossie said unexpectedly. “If you like, I c’n teach ’im a lesson ’e won’t fergit in an ’urry.”

Janna closed her eyes and groaned inwardly. Was Ossie the “someone” Ulf had in mind when he’d made his offer? She glanced at Sybil and saw that the taverner was watching him with a calculating gleam in her eyes.

“Just a warning. No rough stuff,” she said. “Not yet anyway. Tell him I know what he’s done, and he’s to stay out of my way in future or there’ll be a price to pay.”

Ossie nodded.

“Tell him I also know about his leman and her brother. Tell him you’ll be watching him closely. Any more trouble here, or if I hear even a whisper against me, or the Bell and Bush – ”