Lilies for Love (15 page)

'Nevertheless, my lord, you must keep up your strength for we all want you recovered and home again just as soon as may be,' the girl answered pertly. 'We miss your presence at the manor, sire.' She lowered her lashes and blinked flirtatiously. But her gesture was wasted on Hugh, who had turned back to Godric.

Godric continued to listen attentively, although he'd given Janna a beaming smile as she entered. She stood quietly while Hugh continued to detail what chores he wanted done. When he'd finished speaking, Janna spoke to Godric direct. 'Do you go to the fair at all?' she asked.

'Not today.' He shook his head. 'Morcar, our new reeve, is proving conscientious and capable enough in selling our goods. It's better for me to keep watch over the manor while my lord is here.'

Janna hesitated. She cast a quick glance of appeal at Hugh, and spoke up once more. 'Godric, you know all those who work at my lord's manor, and also those who are employed at Babestoche Manor by Dame Alice. Whoever is responsible for the attack on my lord may well have fled the fair. Nevertheless . . .'

'That's a good idea,' Hugh cut in swiftly, anticipating Janna's thoughts. 'Spend some time looking around, Godric, and then report back to me if you will. I would like to know who is here, all those you recognise, anyone at all.'

'I'll come with you, Godric.' Gytha favoured him with another flirtatious flutter of eyelashes. Janna tried to hide her smile. It seemed the cook's daughter couldn't help herself; any man was grist to her mill! Unless . . . Janna's next thought wiped any trace of a smile from her visage. Unless Gytha was beginning to realise her efforts were wasted on Hugh, and was turning her attention to Godric instead?

Janna was thoughtful as she went about her chores that afternoon. Hugh's presence at the abbey was a great talking point, although the hum of speculation was mostly conducted in illicit whispers. As someone who was in direct contact with him, and who could provide up-to-date reports as to his welfare as well as an eye-witness account of the attack, she suddenly found she was extremely popular. She, in turn, made the most of the opportunity to question those nuns who approached her, asking if any of them had knowledge of Eadgyth.

In this, she drew a disappointing blank. Most knew her mother's name because of the Mass that, at Hugh's instigation, had been said for her soul. Some had heard of Eadgyth's plight when first she'd come to the abbey, but they had not set eyes on her, nor did they know where she'd come from. Janna hadn't had a chance to question the abbess further, but she talked to Sister Brigid at some length, believing that the porteress might well have had the most contact with her mother when first she'd called at Wiltune to beg for help. Brigid was a great gossip, and prided herself on knowing everything about everyone, but even she knew nothing to further Janna's quest.

Janna couldn't imagine her proud mother begging anything from anyone, most especially not the haughty, grasping abbess. She must indeed have been desperate. Now that she herself was experiencing life in an abbey, Janna was beginning to have a new insight into her mother's life. She was sure that Eadgyth must have come from an abbey somewhere, although she was less sure of her mother's position there.

All the evidence seemed to point to the fact that Eadgyth had taken her vows and perhaps even risen to a position of some prominence as the abbey's infirmarian. Yet she'd always called herself a
wortwyf
. She certainly hadn't the same knowledge as Sister Anne or she would have passed it on to Janna, just as she'd passed on everything else she knew about the healing arts. The only part of the mystery Janna was beginning to understand was her mother's attitude towards the church. Betrayed and deserted by the man she loved as well as by the nuns, being big with child and forced to beg for bread and shelter, it was small wonder that Eadgyth had turned her back on Christ, and grown so hard, so independent and distrustful, and so determined never to be in anyone's debt ever again. Janna was proud of her mother's indomitable spirit, and for what she had achieved. She touched the purse under her habit, wherein the letter was sealed. Her father had a lot to answer for and, by God, she would demand a full accounting when they finally met!

It was approaching dusk when Godric returned, this time without Gytha, to report on whom he'd seen at the fair. Several names were familiar to Janna: villagers who'd consulted her mother in the past, including the miller and his wife, as well as Aldith, the midwife, the priest from Berford, and Fulk the apothecary. She was sorry not to have seen Aldith, but she was quite happy that she'd missed the rest of the villagers whom Godric had named. The two men discussed them all, but could think of no reason why any should wish to harm Hugh in such a way. A sudden realisation worried Janna.

'Some of them were among the villagers who set fire to my cottage,' she ventured. 'Now that they know I'm alive, any one of them might wish to ensure my silence about what really happened that night. Whether the lord Robert was behind it or not, I still believe I was the intended target of the knife and not you, my lord.' She looked at Hugh.

This time he did not hasten to reassure her that she was wrong. 'And I am so sorry that you were injured in place of me, my lord,' Janna added.

'If I have saved your life, I am glad of it,' Hugh said. 'But if this is really the truth of the matter, you must give me your assurance, Johanna, that you will stay safely inside the abbey until we find out who was responsible.'

Janna sighed. 'I will,' she said reluctantly. 'And if possible, my lord, can you keep my name out of your enquiries?'

Hugh nodded. 'Godric and I will question the villagers, and see what we can learn. I promise you, we will not rest until we have found out who was behind this cowardly attack, and just what was the reason for it.'

J
ANNA PASSED
A restless night in the infirmary. Although she felt comforted by Hugh's promise to continue enquiries, and although she knew that she was where she planned to be, she couldn't shake off the sense that she was trapped in the abbey with no prospect of release. Several times she rose, and flitted quietly between beds to check on her patients. Once, she crept into the cubicle that housed Hugh. She looked down at his sleeping form, and fought the urge to touch his cheek, to kiss his lips. After that, she stayed away, but when she finally slept, he came to her in her dreams.

With the new dawn came the realisation that the fair was now over. The bustle in the forecourt suggested that most of the merchants and traders who had taken shelter at the abbey would depart just as soon as Mass was over. Janna had enjoyed all the excitement and was sorry to see everyone leaving. It seemed to her as if, stone by stone, the walls were closing in on her once more.

What further depressed her spirits was the fact that Hugh too would soon depart whereas she could not, at least not until she'd accomplished her ambition to find out more about her mother and was able to read her father's letter. But these goals seemed to be receding further and further from her grasp. Yet she could think of no other place to go, for even Winchestre seemed an impossible dream now. Janna had taken every opportunity to listen to the chatter of merchants and pilgrims alike, for they travelled about the country and spoke to people, and so knew all that was happening in the tug of war for the crown between the king and his cousin.

She'd learned that the earlier peace talks between King Stephen's queen and Matilda's half-brother, Earl Robert of Gloucestre, had come to naught, and that Bishop Henry, the king's brother, had gone to France to ask the French king to mediate in their quarrel. Meanwhile England was still in turmoil, with the king rushing from place to place trying to buy support by promising to give land and castles to the barons while they, ambitious and greedy as ever, spent their time capturing castles from each other, from the empress's supporters, and even from the king, changing their allegiance whenever it suited their purpose. She'd begun to realise that the chance of finding her father in Winchestre was almost nil. While the king's cause was in the ascendant, bolstered by the presence of a large army of Flemish mercenaries, a number of disaffected barons had defected to the Empress Matilda, creating a further problem for Janna. If her father was noble, highborn, she had no way of telling to whom he owed knight service, or even whose side his baron supported.

And if he was a priest . . . Janna heaved a sigh at the thought of how difficult it would be to find him. All her hopes were now pinned on being able to read the letter, but how could she persuade Sister Anne to allow her to skip her duties in order to sit with Sister Grace and the chantress's pupils in the cloister and learn, in charity, something for which they had paid a fee?

It was with a heavy heart that Janna made her morning visit to Hugh. He would soon be well enough to leave the abbey and she would miss him, both for himself and as a link with the world outside.

'Why such a long face, Sister?' he greeted her when she walked into his cubicle.

'I fear it is because you are healing well, sire.' It was safe to tell the truth for Sister Anne was nowhere in sight. Even so, as soon as she'd spoken Janna felt a little sorry that she'd made her feelings so plain to Hugh.

He looked a little puzzled. 'Does this mean I can return to my manor?' he ventured.

'Only when the infirmarian says it is safe for you to make the journey,' Janna said quickly.

Hugh was silent for a moment. 'If you're so unhappy here, why don't you come home with me?' he suggested. 'My manor is far enough from your old home that you may hide there in safety.'

Janna closed her eyes against a sudden flood of emotion. To go home with Hugh would give her more happiness than she'd ever known. But she was afraid of where it might lead, this invitation that was kindly meant and that sounded so innocent. Her resolve hardened. She would never put herself in her mother's position. Never!

She opened her eyes. 'I thank you, sire, but I cannot,' she said steadily.

'And I am sorry for it. Being here, watching you . . .' The admiration in his eyes now was unmistakable.

Janna swallowed hard. She was trying to think of some light rejoinder when the heavy curtain of the cubicle was brushed aside. Emma raced in and cast herself, sobbing, into Hugh's arms.

'Hugh!' she choked, too distraught to say anything other than his name.

'Hush. What is it?' He held her tight, and patted her back in a vain attempt to calm her. Janna debated whether she should run to find some soothing mixture for the young woman and was just about to leave when she caught Hugh's imploring expression, which told her he was out of his depth and didn't know what to do.

She pointed her finger towards the entrance, indicating that she should leave, but he shook his head in an emphatic 'no'. His shoulders lifted in mute appeal. Janna patted her hand in the air, miming that he should keep on gentling the girl, and let her cry her worries into silence.

He nodded understanding. When Emma had calmed somewhat, he tried again. 'What grieves you so? Tell me, so that I may help you if I can.'

Emma began to cry once more, sounding utterly lost, beyond consolation. Hugh waited patiently. Finally Emma managed to choke out a word. Her voice was made indistinct by her tears and the fact that her face was buried in Hugh's chest.

'Anselm? What has happened to him?' Hugh's voice was sharp with tension.

'He is dead.' Emma broke into another storm of weeping. While they waited for her to compose herself sufficiently to tell them how he had died, Janna mused that, no matter how fond Emma was of her brother, this would answer the girl's difficulties so far as her marriage to the thatcher was concerned. And then she discerned a further possible cause for the girl's distress.

This was confirmed when Emma was finally able to speak. 'I am so afraid for Peter,' she quavered. 'You see, we weren't careful enough to stay hidden. Anselm saw him at the fair with me and, before I could say aught, he charged up to us like a war horse at full gallop. He noticed my lily ring and asked about it. Knowing how angry he would be, I tried to pass it off as a trifle, but Peter faced up to him and said it was a gift of love, to mark our betrothal.' Emma scrubbed away at new tears leaking into her eyes. 'My brother had taken too much wine and was wild with it. He started to shout at Peter, calling him all sorts of foul names. He said he was lowborn, good for nothing; he berated him for taking advantage of me. Finally, Peter couldn't take it any longer, and he turned on Anselm. He gave him a bloody nose. It was only that I shrieked and came between them that stopped the fight. But there were witnesses, and the hue and cry has now gone out for Peter.'

'But he has not been taken?'

'No. At least, not as far as I know,' Emma added hurriedly.

'Do you know where he is?'

'No.' But even Janna, who did not know her, could see that she lied.

Emma began to cry again. 'Don't think my tears and my concern are all for Peter,' she said. 'I mourn my brother, oh, I weep for him! I know we've had our differences, but he is everything to me, he is my family, he was the most part of my life!'

Janna could see that Hugh, too, was struggling to contain his emotion. 'And I am full of remorse that we parted on bad terms,' he said. 'I wish now that I had gone after him, tried to talk some sense into him!'

Janna thought Hugh was missing the point, but forgave him for it. Nevertheless, she knew the question had to be asked. 'Do you believe that Peter is responsible for Anselm's death?'

'No!' Emma's denial came without thought. There was a slight pause. 'No, I do not believe he could ever do such a thing,' she said more slowly. 'True, he was upset and annoyed, but we talked about Anselm, and about going to our lord to ask for his support in this matter, as Hugh suggested we should. I'm sure Peter believed, as I did, that there was still a chance we might talk Anselm around to our way of thinking. Besides, Peter is a villein, and tied to his lord. He knows the penalty for killing, or even injuring, a free man, a Norman. He would pay with his life.' Emma gave a sudden shiver. 'He is not guilty of this, I swear it!' she said firmly.

'How did your brother die?' Janna cast a quick glance at Hugh, worried that she was overstepping the bounds of propriety. He gave her a nod of encouragement. They waited for Emma to answer.

'He . . . he was slaughtered like an animal!' She gave a hiccuping sob of outrage. 'His throat was cut, and he was left to bleed to death in a ditch.'

'Where? What ditch?'

Emma looked a little bewildered by the question. 'It was . . . it runs on one side of the marketmede,' she said slowly. 'It's near the cockfighting pit, where I spoke to Anselm on that first day about you, Hugh.' She shuddered.

'Did you see your brother actually lying there, in the ditch?' Janna knew she must sound unsympathetic, but she knew also that her question was important. When her pet cat had been killed, she'd worked out where and what had happened from the blood stains on the ground, even though she'd been confused at first by the stains of red wine.

Emma was staring at her, an expression of outrage on her face. Fortunately, Hugh understood the question. 'We need to know as much as you can tell us if we are to help you find out the truth,' he said.

Janna felt encouraged by his use of the word 'we'. It prompted her to explain further. 'It's important that we find out just where he was murdered, and if his body was moved afterwards,' she said. 'It could give us some insight into his killer's movements and maybe even who the killer might be.'

Emma blinked. 'Yes, I saw Anselm,' she said slowly. She put her hands to her eyes as if to ward off the sight of her dead brother. 'There was . . . there was so much blood. So much! His clothes were soaked red with it.'

'Was there any blood on the ground outside the ditch? Any drag marks, or anything else to indicate he may have been killed elsewhere and his body taken there and dumped?'

Emma shuddered. 'I don't know,' she whispered. 'I didn't think to look.'

'I'll go and have a look around as soon as I can leave here,' Hugh promised.

Janna nodded. 'What happened after you saw your brother, after you identified him?' she asked.

'The priest was with him, he'd been called to say the last rites, to anoint him and give him absolution. But he was too late, I know it. My brother died unshriven.' Tears streamed freely down Emma's face. 'The priest asked one of the guards to summon the steward. There were no witnesses to what had happened, but the steward has questioned the man who raised the hue and cry after Peter. The man is from our manor, he knows us all, and that is why the guard came to find me.' Emma wiped her eyes and nose on the sleeve of her gown, and swallowed hard. 'I wish we'd never come to the fair!' she wailed. 'I was so looking forward to it, it was such a treat. If only we'd known what awaited us here!' She broke into despairing sobs once more.

Janna exchanged glances with Hugh. 'I'll go and talk to the steward,' he said. Setting Emma gently to one side, he swung his legs out of the bed, ready to put his thoughts into action. 'I'll also talk to the witness, and to Peter –
if
you can find him, Emma?' His slight emphasis on the word brought a blush to her face. She gave a reluctant nod. 'And perhaps I should also have a look at Anselm, in case there's anything about his injuries that might tell us something about his assassin?'

'You need not look far for that, my lord.' Emma's voice was thick, choked with tears. 'He has been brought here, to the abbey. The porteress told me that Anselm will be kept here in the mortuary chapel until such time as the steward has finished his enquiries and allows us to take him back to our manor for burial.'

'You should not get up yet, my lord, not until your wound is quite healed,' Janna said quickly. 'I'll go to the chapel. I can tell you everything I find out.' Something Emma had said on her previous visit came into Janna's mind. She wondered if it had any bearing on what had just happened. 'Mistress, one more question if I may?' she asked. 'You mentioned before that Anselm had promised you a larger dower. Where was that to come from, do you know?'

'No.'

'From a win at gambling, perhaps?'

Emma jerked upright, looking both startled and dismayed.

'He might have thought, if he increased Mistress Emma's dower, that you might be more willing to wed his sister, sire.' Janna turned to Hugh.

Hugh groaned aloud. 'Are you saying both Emma and I are responsible for what has happened to Anselm?'

Janna realised she was about to flounder in deeper waters than she'd expected; certainly much further than she'd intended to go. Nevertheless, she felt it important to continue. 'I am saying, my lord, that if Anselm meant to buy your favour, he would not have attacked you.'

Hugh nodded thoughtfully. 'So the attack on me and the attack on Anselm are definitely not related?'

'That may be so, but it doesn't help to exonerate Peter from this crime!' Emma said impatiently, her concern not only with justice for her brother, but also for her lover.

'I'm not sure if the attacks are related or not,' Janna said slowly. She was feeling her way towards the truth. She thought she could see a glimmer of it, but not in any form that made much sense as yet.

'Both Anselm and I were attacked with a knife – or a dagger,' Hugh mused. 'That makes some sort of connection, doesn't it?'

'Every man I know, whether freeborn or villein, owns a knife or a dagger, or both,' Janna pointed out.

'Peter owns a knife, a dagger, and other cutting implements besides. It is his trade,' Emma said bleakly.

'Then let us see what else we might find out about this.'

'Sire . . .' Janna protested, but Hugh already had hold of his clothes, which had been freshly laundered while he was lying abed.

He grinned at her, and mimed lifting his shirt. Recognising that he'd made up his mind, Janna took Emma's arm and led her from the cubicle so Hugh could dress. 'Would you like me to make up a potion to soothe you?' she asked the young woman.