Authors: Felicity Pulman
'And that happiness and serenity is reflected on your face,' Janna reassured her. 'Yes, people might stare for a moment, but only until they come to know you, Agnes.'
'Look over there! That woman's pointing at me, and her little girl is laughing.'
'The woman's pointing at the juggler, Agnes, and her little girl is laughing with excitement.'
'No, you are mistaken. They're looking at me,' Agnes insisted.
Janna shrugged. She was sure Agnes was being too sensitive to people's stares and too quick to attribute them to her disfigurement, but she didn't know how to change her friend's perception of the situation.
'I'm known in the abbey. I'm not known here. It frightens me to see people staring so.' Agnes hurried after Sister Anne who, not having witnessed their conversation or what had caused it, was striding on ahead of them.
'May I have your permission to return to the abbey, Sister? I'm not feeling well.' Agnes's words were out before Janna could say anything.
The infirmarian turned to them, an expression of concern on her face. Janna hoped she'd insist that Agnes stay, for she was sure part of the girl's insecurity stemmed from the fact that she'd never been beyond the abbey's protection since she'd been burnt as a small child. But perhaps this wasn't the best time to break those bounds, Janna acknowledged. After the quiet and ordered calm of the abbey, this must look like bedlam. She surveyed the crowded fairground. The hustle and bustle of merchants, traders and chapmen calling out their wares, wives bargaining over goods, screaming children and barking dogs mingled with the bellows, neighs, grunts, cackles and cluckings from the animal and poultry markets set in their own portion of the meadow – all these sights and sounds excited Janna. The stink of animal dung mixed with the fragrance of hot pies, the sharp tang of fish and the sweet aromas from the spice merchants set her head reeling with delight. She glanced at Agnes and wished she'd thought about her impulse more carefully. She wished, even more, that she'd not spoken of the bailiff, had curbed her curiosity and let things take their natural course. If Agnes was frightened away now, it would take a lot of coaxing to entice her ever to leave the abbey again.
'Stay!' Janna said. 'Please.'
Agnes flashed her a look of hopeless longing, then turned to Sister Anne to await her verdict.
'It is your decision,' Sister Anne said quietly. 'Only you can know which is the right path for you to take.'
In those words, Janna knew that the infirmarian shared her doubts about the real reason for Agnes's request but realised also that, for the infirmarian, a lifetime spent inside the abbey walls was not a penance but a preferred way of living. Having given Agnes an opportunity to glimpse the world outside, she was now making Agnes choose, and take responsibility for her choice.
Agnes hesitated. The moment was broken by the bailiff. He strode up to them, stuffing a handful of coins into a bulging leather satchel as he came. 'I give you good day, Sisters,' he said. 'God be with you.' Janna noticed his gaze fall on Agnes, who flushed and turned away, and pulled her wimple higher to hide her cheek.
'God be with you too, Master Will,' Sister Anne returned his greeting. 'The abbey is doing well out of the fees and tolls, I see,' she continued, indicating the satchel at his waist.
'Indeed. We have a record number of booths and stalls set up this year,' the bailiff said with satisfaction. ''Tis fortunate that the troubles 'tween the king and his cousin have not come near enough to interfere with the harvest this year, or with those who are willing to chance the roads to sell their goods.'
No-one noticed Agnes slip away as the bailiff continued. 'Let me escort you to the stalls where the abbey's goods are on display. Of course the steward will be on hand to oversee everything, while I and my deputy are available to trade on your behalf. But I know you take pride in your salves and medicaments, Sister, and I am sure those buying them will want to consult you regarding their properties.'
It was only as they followed the bailiff through the crowded marketplace that Janna missed Agnes, and realised that she had made her choice and had gone. Janna blamed herself for not choosing a more opportune moment to introduce Agnes to some freedom and fun. Even more, she blamed herself for calling attention to Agnes's friendship with the bailiff. She had a strong sense that something important had been lost. She had seen Agnes's disappointment, seen the light of joy die in her eyes, and knew it was all her fault. She wished she had a coin to buy Agnes some little trinket from the fair, to lift her spirits. Janna felt suddenly miserable, the brightness and glamour gone from the day. She took her place quietly beside Sister Anne when they came to the stall, and looked out upon the fair with none of her former relish.
Her interest was pricked as she espied a youth whistling nonchalantly as he jostled through the throng. Something about him seemed ajar, and Janna watched as he brushed against a richly dressed merchant. A knife flashed and, just as Janna imagined the worst and opened her mouth to sound the alarm, the youth turned away and the merchant sauntered on. No quarrels and no blood shed then. Janna relaxed once more, only to prick with alarm as the merchant noticed the cut cord of his purse and gave a loud shout. 'Help! I've been robbed! Stop thief!'
At once she looked about for the young cutpurse but he had gone, melted into the crowd as snow becomes water in a swiftly flowing river. Janna knew he was just one of the many pickpockets and thieves who would try to turn a dishonest profit this day, even though the steward had appointed guards to patrol the fairground and keep a constant lookout for wrongdoers. She touched the slight bulge of her purse underneath her habit, glad it was hidden from prying eyes. More precious than anything were these few relics from her mother, and her father's letter. She would do anything to keep them safe.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a timid request for information. Sister Anne was busy with another, and so Janna answered the woman's questions about the cream she was holding. 'It's perfumed with violets,' she said. 'You may rub some on your skin every evening. It will do wonders for your complexion.' Janna lowered her voice so the nun couldn't hear. 'And the perfume will encourage your husband's attentions,' she added.
The woman gave her a startled glance and Janna grinned until, recollecting her new status, she settled her face into a more decorous expression. Judging the woman's worth from the rich fabric of her clothes and the gold band that kept her veil in place, she set a high fee on the cream and the woman paid for two jars of it. 'And may I interest you in my special hair powders and rinses,' Janna continued, made bold by her success. She looked at the greasy locks of hair escaping from the confines of the woman's veil. 'They're made from lemons and sunturners to add freshness and sunlight to your hair,' she added persuasively.
'Sunturners?'
'Marigolds.' Sister Anne had told Janna their real name, but Janna preferred Eadgyth's name for the flowers, for the way they always turned their golden faces towards the sun.
'Remember, no haggling, Johanna,' Sister Anne muttered as she passed her by.
Janna bobbed her head obediently, and this time set a slightly lower price.
'I'll take one,' the dame agreed, and unlaced her purse once more.
'And I'll take two,' said a merchant's wife standing beside her. Janna felt a sense of satisfaction. This was honest trade, not haggling. She knew the worth of her preparations. The women would benefit from their use; they would not feel cheated.
Well pleased with her venture into business on the abbey's behalf, for she'd had to do some fast talking with Sister Anne in order to gain permission to prepare those creams and rinses which had no medicinal purpose, she handed over the coins to the infirmarian. 'You've done well, Johanna,' Sister Anne murmured. 'I see your years of experience in the marketplace are paying off!'
Janna took some comfort from the nun's words, especially when the nun added, 'I'll make sure to learn the recipes so we can add your special preparations to our stock at next year's fair.' She turned to another customer, this time an elderly whiskered gentleman who wanted something for a gouty leg and an aching back.
Janna and Sister Anne were kept busy for some time thereafter, selling medicaments as well as Janna's preparations for skin and hair, teeth and bad breath, tired limbs and aching feet. As the coins clinked in, Janna's spirits rose. Although she didn't like the abbess, she was happy to think she was contributing something useful towards her new home. It took her another moment or two to recognise the true source of her growing contentment. Dressed as she was, everyone thought she was part of the abbey and treated her with respect. Respect was not something Janna was used to and she relished it, even though she recognised that nothing had changed: inside, she was just the same as she'd always been. But her smile was brighter, her face more cheerful as she undertook to be the best representative the abbey had ever had.
'You've worked hard, Johanna,' Sister Anne told her, after a lingering customer had been served and there was no-one new in sight. She took a coin from the heavy purse, and held it out to Janna. 'Would you like to buy yourself a pie and some ale for your dinner, and enjoy the fair for a little while?'
'Thank you, Sister!' Janna took the coin with alacrity. 'Shall I buy you a pie too?'
'No.' The nun smiled at her. 'Don't worry about me, child. I'll eat my dinner later.'
Afraid that the infirmarian might change her mind if she tarried, Janna hurried away. She avoided the fenced enclosure where traders bid for livestock, keeping instead to the rows of booths and stalls where myriad goods were on display, each in their own special section: cheeses, wine, honey, fruit and vegetables, all set out in glowing fragrant piles. Janna's stomach rumbled. She sauntered on along the rows, stopping to admire coloured gems and baubles, knives and needles, swords and daggers, fancy leather gloves and shoes with pointed toes, and bolts of fine wool and linen cloth in every hue: light blue, red, yellow, black, grey and green. Only the nobility would be able to afford such luxury; the villeins had to make do with homespun.
Janna imagined herself wearing a fine green gown, with embroidered edges and fashionably wide sleeves, attending a ball at the castle at Sarisberie. She would be the most beautiful of all the ladies there, and all the nobility would line up to dance with her. Especially Hugh! A mirror of polished metal caught her eye. She picked it up, and promptly burst out laughing. Not a beautiful lady in a green gown but a lay sister! She was about to put it down when curiosity got the better of her, and she studied herself more closely. The veil and wimple were supposed to cover her hair, but some locks always managed to escape their confines. But she knew its colour. It was her eyes that interested her, and she stared at them. 'You have your father's eyes,' the midwife had once told her, although that was a guess for no-one knew who her father was. Janna wondered if she might recognise him through recognising her own dark brown eyes. She searched for signs of her mother in her face, but could find only a fleeting resemblance when she smiled at her reflection. Feeling slightly disappointed, she put down the mirror and walked on.
Precious silks from across the water, decorative objects chased in precious gold and silver, perfumes and assorted spices ensured that she made slow progress. Her habit gave her protection, she found. She could stop, sniff and finger articles for sale, and no-one harassed her or tried to make her buy anything. A tray of bright ribbons caught her eye and she stopped to choose one for Agnes. Janna was sure such a pretty thing would give her friend pleasure. She could tie it under her habit, and no-one would ever know it was there. But which to choose? Bright pink, or sky blue? The green of trees or the scarlet of poppies? She picked up first one and then another; each seemed more beautiful and more exciting than the last. A splash of golden yellow caught her eye and she dropped the handful of ribbons she'd collected and picked it up instead. The ribbon lay like sunshine in her hand.
'I'll take this one,' Janna told the chapman, and he held out his hand for her coin. She waited for some wooden tokens in exchange, but none came. She realised then that she'd not asked about the price, and she was the loser for it. 'This comes very dear,' she said. The chapman shrugged, and turned to another customer. Janna pulled a wry face, and looped the ribbon around her wrist under the sleeve of her habit, tying it with a clumsy knot. There was no money left now for a pie, but she was well-pleased with her purchase and hoped it would give Agnes pleasure and comfort, in some part, for missing the fair.
Understanding, suddenly, that her purchase probably didn't befit her appearance, Janna continued on her way. 'Hssst.' The sibilant whisper attracted her attention, as did the grimy hand that plucked at her habit. 'I have something that might interest you, Reverend Sister.'
Not troubling to correct his error in naming her, Janna looked down as a linen sheath was unrolled to reveal a grubby object. She stared at it, and then at the pedlar who was displaying his treasure so proudly. 'What is it?' she asked.
''Tis a fingerbone from St John the Baptist.' Wearing a devout expression, he crossed himself. 'If you only owned such a precious relic, Reverend Sister, you'd be pardoned from all your sins and look forward to life everlasting with our Saviour in Heaven.' He crossed himself again.
Awed and impressed, Janna peered more closely at the small bone. She wished she had coin enough to offer for such a wonderful relic, and wondered where it had come from and how the pedlar had been so fortunate as to come by it. She noticed then that he was becoming somewhat agitated, and realised why as she saw one of the steward's guards striding towards them, made distinctive by the abbey's badge he wore on his breast. Before she could blink, the linen sheath was deftly rolled, hiding the finger bone from view. Whistling innocently, the pedlar wandered off into the crowd, leaving Janna feeling rather foolish. But she couldn't help admiring the rogue's brazen audacity. She was sure he'd have many more such 'relics' secreted about his person. She wouldn't be the only innocent fairgoer he'd trap with his colourful inventions.