Authors: Felicity Pulman
She began to recite the words softly. '"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, Blessed are thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of your womb."'
Moved by the simple words, Janna touched the small figurine secreted in her purse, the mother and child. She would show it to Agnes one day. 'And the
Credo
and
Gloria
? What are they?'
'The Creed is where we say we believe in one God, and the
Gloria
is where we praise Him. I can teach them to you, if you like? Then at least you can say some of the Mass.'
'What about the rest of it? Why don't they teach you that too?'
Agnes shrugged. 'It doesn't matter. If I don't understand what's going on, I just talk to God instead, quietly inside my mind.'
Talk to God? Janna thought about it. There seemed something oddly comforting about the notion of having someone all-powerful to confide in. 'Does He ever answer you?'
'Not really. But I know He listens to me, as well as to the nuns, and that brings me peace of mind. I know that He will help me, He will answer my prayers.'
Janna wondered if Agnes had ever prayed to be made whole again. 'And if He doesn't do what you ask?'
'Then it is His will, and I accept that.'
Janna didn't know whether to envy Agnes for her faith, or pity her for having such blind belief in it. Had Eadgyth once felt like this too? The thought stopped her from questioning Agnes further.
'I used your salve last night, Janna. At least, the salve Sister Anne made up to your recipe. I felt so sore yesterday after our work in the fields, but my scar feels easier today. I think it's really helped me.'
'I'm glad of that. Keep massaging it into your skin.' Janna could imagine how painful the scarred tissue must feel, for the skin would be stretched tight over muscle and sinew, having not grown properly since Agnes was a child. She wondered if there was anything else she could suggest, and wished she was able to consult Eadgyth. Her mother had always had an answer for everything.
The sun blazed down. Janna was hot and sweating in her long habit as she took up her position beside the abbey servants who were already hard at work. Today it was Janna's and Agnes's turn to walk behind the harvesters, stooping to pick up the cut ears of wheat and bind them with cords of twisted straw.
Janna looked around her as she worked, recognising several men and women who had been physicked by her mother, or who had bought creams and potions from them in the marketplace. She remembered then that most of the land along the Nadder and Wylye Rivers was owned by Wiltune Abbey, and that those villeins owed the abbess boon work at this time. She envied the women their freedom to kilt up their gowns while they worked. How the whining gnat would complain in chapter if a lay sister bared her legs for all to see!
'Mistress Johanna?' Janna's heart jumped as she saw who had spoken to her. The stranger. The slight upward inflexion made his words sound like a question rather than a greeting. She wondered if she could look blank and pretend she didn't know to whom he was referring. As she hesitated, she saw his slight smile and knew that he was sure of her.
'Do I know you?' she asked instead.
'Not yet.' His smile grew broader, turned into a leer. 'I was told a pretty new lay sister had joined the abbey. I wanted to see you for myself. I'm glad to say that the report does not do you justice.'
'And who are you,
my lord
, to pass judgment upon me?' Fear banished by his over-familiarity, Janna's tone was tart with annoyance.
The stranger seemed a little disconcerted by her fiery spirit. Recollecting himself, he swept a low bow. 'My name is Alan, but my friends call me
Mus
.'
Mouse? He was surely joking. 'Your friends have a sense of humour,' she observed.
'Not at all,' he rejoined swiftly. 'They know me very well.' He grinned at her and stooped to gather the cut sheaves, brushing out of the way a nest of plaited grass belonging to a family of harvest mice. Janna moved to rescue them but was too late. His large boot came down and crushed them. To hide her distress, she bent and joined Mus in his labour, and worried about how she could move away without being too obvious about it.
The hot, heavy day wore on. Only the children's spirits seemed undiminished. They swooped about the field like little birds, calling and cooing to each other as they collected the fallen grain and secreted it in pouches slung around their waists. The screech of greedy crows punctuated their playful chatter, along with sudden loud shouts and shrill whistles, and the noisy flapping of wings as the glossy black birds were frightened into flight.
The stranger stayed right next to Janna, and smiled whenever he caught her eye. His smiles made Janna deeply uneasy. Wondering why, she came to the conclusion that it was because only his mouth smiled. His eyes stayed cold and wary. She was quite sure that Mus was not who he claimed to be, while his nickname certainly did not fit his temperament. No mouse, Alan. This man was bold, forward. Janna was sure his intentions towards her were not honourable.
With a sinking feeling, Janna came to the conclusion that there was nothing she could do to have him removed from the band of workers. She resolved instead to be careful, very careful, and to keep a close watch. No matter if he misread her intentions, just so long as she never turned her back or gave him any opportunity to do her harm. Covertly, she studied him. She was sure, now, that she'd seen him somewhere before, and not all that long ago either. And then the answer came to her, and she almost blurted it out, but stopped herself just in time. He was Robert of Babestoche's man servant! She decided to test him.
'Have I seen you somewhere before?' she asked.
'No, I don't think so.' He gave a merry laugh. 'I am a servant of the abbey. You mistake me for someone else, mistress, I assure you.'
Janna nodded, and smiled as if she believed him. She was glad, now, that she'd kept her knowledge to herself. In spite of his denial, she well recalled that sad procession out of the forest as Dame Alice and her husband hurried to the manor farm after receiving news that their only son had gone missing. Janna had been standing near the water meadows, and had been desperate to conceal her identity once she'd recognised them. She'd kept her head bent as they rode past, but she remembered that they'd been accompanied by several servants. She was almost sure that Mus was one of them. And if she was right . . . She shuddered. Robert had killed once to hide a secret, to keep safe his position as the husband of Dame Alice. As soon as he realised Janna knew what he'd done, he'd acted against her too. But he hadn't succeeded in silencing her, and he knew that now. If Mus was his man servant, his reason for being here now had nothing to do with helping the abbey gather in the harvest.
Agnes was working on her other side, and Janna took the first opportunity she could to draw her friend aside. Before she could say anything, Agnes dug her in the ribs and said, loud enough for Mus to hear, 'I see your new beau isn't wasting any time in getting to know you better, Janna.'
Cursing inwardly, Janna gave a merry peal of laughter and tried to look coy. 'Don't leave me alone with him, not even for a moment,' she hissed out of the side of her mouth.
'Do you think he means to seduce you?' Fortunately her years of training in how to speak unobserved prompted Agnes to discretion now. Janna could only just hear her words.
'No, not that! I believe he means me harm. I'll tell you all about it later.' Janna gave another peal of girlish laughter and resumed her position next to Mus. If he was an emissary from Robert, he could only have her destruction in mind. It must happen soon, for Robert would be desperate to silence her and would have instructed Mus accordingly.
Mus? Rat, more like! She glanced sideways, this time responding to his smile with a flirtatious fluttering of eyelashes and a quick toss of the head. Under no circumstances must he think her afraid of him, nor must she let down her guard. Her muscles tightened, her heart throbbed urgently in response to the threat he posed. She felt as if she was sitting on a pile of dry tinder just waiting for a spark, for the conflagration to begin. 'Let him do his worst,' she muttered under her breath. 'Just let him
try
!'
As if he'd read her thoughts, or even heard what she'd said, although Janna didn't think it possible, Mus sidled even closer to her. Just as Janna braced herself to foil his next move, Agnes gave a sudden groan. She dropped the heavy bundle of cut sheaves she'd collected, and sat down abruptly. She bent over, clutching her stomach with one hand and massaging her sore shoulder with the other.
'What's wrong?' Janna asked urgently, stepping out of Mus's reach as she bent to help her friend.
'Nothing. Nothing.' Agnes tried to struggle to her feet. Before Janna could lift her, the bailiff was there with his hand outstretched and his face creased with concern.
'You must rest a while in the shade, Sister Agnes,' he said firmly. Not giving Agnes any chance to disagree, he picked her up and carried her off.
Startled, Janna watched them, smothering a grin as she noticed Sister Martha. The lay sister had straightened and was staring after the odd couple with an outraged expression. The gnat would have a wonderful time in chapter for certes, but Janna determined she would speak up for her friend and make it clear to the prioress that the bailiff's action had been kindly meant and that Agnes had had no choice in the matter.
The bailiff had now settled Agnes under the shade of a tree. He handed her a leather bottle. Janna swallowed over a suddenly dry mouth as she watched Agnes take a long drink and hand the bottle back to the bailiff. She said something to him, and they both laughed. Janna hoped her friend would be all right, that she wouldn't be sent back to the abbey, but she didn't like to break her own labour to enquire. Besides, watching the bailiff hover solicitously, she felt sure Agnes was in good hands.
She stooped over the fallen wheat dropped by Agnes, gathered the sheaf together, then deftly twisted several straws into a long tie to bind it up before hefting the heavy bundle to one side to be collected.
Uneasily aware that she was vulnerable without her friend's protection, Janna moved forward to rejoin the group, taking care to ensure that she was as far from Mus as possible.
As the morning wore on, Janna looked up periodically to check on Agnes's welfare. Once the lay sister seemed to be rising, ready to return to the fields. The bailiff stooped and spoke seriously to her, and she sank back onto her grassy cushion. He sat down beside her. Curious, Janna watched them and wondered what they were saying. Agnes looked solemn. She bent forward, and was listening carefully. Once she appeared to be patting the bailiff's arm although, even as Janna suppressed a smile at the sight of it, she snatched her hand away and covered the scar on her cheek instead. Janna wished that she was a fly, that she could buzz around them and listen in.
'You're not really a lay sister, are you?' Mus's voice made Janna jump. She tossed her head and didn't reply.
'So why are you hiding in the abbey?' he persisted.
'I'm not hiding!' Janna glared at him.
'A pretty young girl like you?' He smiled, but his eyes stayed cold and assessing. 'Don't you have any admirers?'
'No,' Janna said firmly.
'I can do something about that.' Mus stepped closer and slipped an arm around her waist. Outraged, Janna gave him a hard push and retreated further out of his way.
'Playing hard to get?' he murmured.
'Don't even think about it.'
His eyes narrowed. 'I know a quiet place we could go, somewhere we won't be seen, if that's what's worrying you. We could have fun together, you and me.'
'Try anything, and I'll cripple you,' Janna warned.
His eyes gleamed. 'I like a challenge,' he said, and bent to tie up a sheaf of wheat.
The hayward's horn was a welcome reprieve for Janna. Even though the wheat field was crowded and she was sure Mus wouldn't risk any move that might be observed, still she felt uneasy in his presence. She left the field and hurried over to where her friend still sat under the tree. 'Are you all right to walk back to the abbey?' she asked anxiously.
'Of course. I would have come back to work, but Master Will wouldn't hear of it.' Agnes's eyes lit up with mischief. 'I could almost ask him to carry me all the way back to the abbey just to see Sister Martha's face!'
Janna laughed, relieved to see her friend in such good spirits. 'Stay where you are. I'll fetch us some dinner,' she said, and went off to collect some meat pasties, fruit and a jug of ale. She sat down beside Agnes, and began to munch hungrily. It was some time before she realised that Agnes wasn't really listening to her chatter.
'I saw the devil last night.' Janna licked the last crumbs of the pie from her fingers. 'He had fangs for teeth and snakes for hair.'
'Good. That's good.' Agnes continued to watch the bailiff, who had not yet sat down to eat, so busy was he with supervising the last of the sheaves of wheat to be loaded onto a wagon.
Janna followed her glance, and nudged Agnes to get her full attention. 'He seems like a very kind man,' she said.
'Indeed he is. I've known him ever since I was old enough to come out and work in the fields. Poor man.' Agnes's face softened in sympathy. 'His wife died last year. He was telling me that his youngest child still calls for her mother in the night. There are times when he cannot console her.'
'Does he have no other family to help him?'
'A sister, he says, but he doesn't often see her. His oldest child is but ten. Wat, he's called. That's him over there.' Agnes pointed at a young lad, one of several who had quickly stuffed themselves with food and were now kicking around a pig's bladder filled with straw, scuffling each other to gain possession of it. It wasn't often that the children had time free to play. She looked up then as the bailiff approached.
'Thank you for your care, Master Will. I . . . I regret the trouble I have caused you. As I am of no use to you, I will not come out tomorrow. I don't want to be a burden.'