Lilies for Love (11 page)

'How fares the cook's daughter?' she asked quickly, somewhat dreading the answer for she knew how badly Gytha wanted to marry Hugh, and how high were her hopes of this happening.

'She fares well enough, I think.' Hugh gave an indifferent shrug. 'All is quiet about the manor now that my thieving reeve is dead.'

'And Edwin? What of him, my lord?' Janna was anxious for news of the outlaw who had stolen her purse while she was lost in the forest, but who had later given her the skills that had enabled her to protect herself from Mus's attack.

Hugh smiled. 'He is staying hidden until after the fair, when the men from his manor depart for Winchestre. But I have spoken to him. He asked for permission to become betrothed to Bertha, which I have given, and he is living with her family. He will do week work for me, but I believe Bertha's father intends to take him on as an apprentice. In time he will become a carpenter.'

'He once told me that was his dream: to be an apprentice. I'm so glad he's found a safe haven with you, my lord, and that he has found all he ever wanted with Bertha and her family.'

'And you,
Sister
Johanna? Have you found what you wanted?' Hugh's slightly mocking tone told Janna that he was, indeed, laughing at her.

'Yes, I have, sire,' she said defensively. She watched Godric's face fall, and wanted to reassure him. But she could not speak what was really in her mind for the future. It was a secret, and must remain so, for Robert would redouble his efforts to silence her if he believed she planned to return one day and hold him to account for the death of her mother. 'What brings you to the fair, my lord?' she asked, to bridge what was becoming an awkward silence.

'To oversee the new reeve. With Godric's help I now have a full accounting of all the bounty from my manor, everything that Serlo had hidden in his cellar, plus the new fleeces and the surplus from our harvest. Godric has become my eyes as well as my right hand. I will make sure that this will be a profitable year, for a change.'

Janna nodded, understanding Hugh's relief in having good news to tell his aunt, for his living depended on his good husbandry of her property.

A group of musicians approached them. They were accompanied by a throng of laughing villeins and their children, who danced about and jostled all in their path. Janna took a step out of their way, spied a puddle of dirty water just in time and tried to step around it, but stumbled. As she fell against Hugh she heard him give a shocked gasp. She launched into a hasty apology, but realised he wasn't paying any attention. He was doubled over, hands pushed into his side, with an expression of disbelief on his face as he watch blood seeping between his fingers.

'My lord!' Janna was horrified. She scrambled up and, bewildered, looked about for the culprit. But the jostling throng had walked on and the three of them stood alone. Without asking permission, she pulled Hugh's hands from the wound and looked with dismay at the slash in his tunic and the blood now flowing from the wound. She snatched off her veil and used the fabric to staunch the blood, pushing it hard against his torn tunic and the wound beneath. She unwound her wimple and tied it around his waist to keep the makeshift dressing in place, for there was no telling how deep the blade had gone, or what damage it might have done. She glanced up at Godric. 'He needs treatment, fast,' she said breathlessly. 'Get someone to help you take him to the abbey gate. Beg admission from the porteress. I'll run to fetch the infirmarian, and we'll meet you there.' She whirled, all thoughts of propriety and the Sin of Running flown from her head as she raced back to the abbey's stall to fetch Sister Anne.

The infirmarian's words of censure regarding Janna's bare head and dishevelled demeanour died on her lips as she listened to Janna's hurried explanation. Pausing only to snatch up the purse of coins and give it into the bailiff's hands for safe keeping, she hastened with Janna to the abbey. 'Do you know how to treat wounds of this nature?' she asked breathlessly as she tried to keep up with Janna's urgent strides.

'Bugle, selfheal and sanicle to cleanse the wound, and the roots of white lilies mixed with hog's grease to help knit sinews. Yarrow, dog rose, sunturner and parsnip boiled in butter will make a good salve.'

'Good,' Sister Anne approved. 'You gather what we'll need and see about making up a cleansing lotion and a plaister, while I find a bed for the lord Hugh and assess the extent of his wounds. I can't look after him properly in the guest house so I'll have to find a place for him in the infirmary.'

As soon as they reached the abbey, Janna wasted no time in rushing to the physic garden, leaving Sister Anne to talk her way past Sister Brigid and into the convent with Hugh.

Godric was hovering around, looking worried and getting in everyone's way when Janna finally found them all in a curtained cubicle off the main dorter of the infirmary. She'd made up a paste of green herbs in the infirmary kitchen, and this she held out to Sister Anne along with a pot of hot water in which floated the bruised leaves of soapwort to wash the wound clean. 'I've left a decoction simmering; it's a tonic for my lord to swallow,' she told the nun as she proferred also a strip of linen to go with the paste.

'You've done well, child.' Sister Anne took the pot of hot liquid, thought better of it and handed it back to Janna. 'Let me see you wash and bind the wound,' she suggested.

Janna took one look at the pale, still figure lying on the low truckle bed, and her courage failed her. She held the pot out to Sister Anne once more.

'Go on,' the infirmarian encouraged her. 'You'll never learn if you don't do it yourself. Make sure I'll tell you if I see you do aught wrong.'

Janna had to take a deep breath to summon up enough nerve to approach Hugh. Sister Anne had stripped off his blood-soaked tunic and he now lay, hairy and barechested, and utterly defenceless, in front of her. She had to take a few more deep breaths before she had the courage to touch him.

He groaned and opened one eye. 'What happened?' he asked warily. 'How did I come to be wounded?'

'I don't know.' Conscious of Sister Anne's watchful eyes, Janna had to force herself not to gag as she gently swabbed away the blood to cleanse the wound. Hugh's breath came short; there was a sheen of sweat on his pale face, but he kept silent under her touch.

'Tell me what you see,' Sister Anne instructed.

Conscious that her heart was pounding hard with fear and excitement, Janna peered into the deep cut as best she might. 'I think it's only a flesh wound. It's deep, but it's not wide. I don't think it's touched anything vital,' she told Sister Anne, and received a grunt of confirmation in reply.

'That's good news.' Hugh smiled faintly, but kept his eyes tight shut.

Janna spread the healing paste then set about binding the torn flesh together with the linen strip, pausing every now and then to wipe away the beads of perspiration from Hugh's face.

Careful and conscientious as she was, her mind was not wholly on her task. Hugh's question had set up questions in her own mind, questions which worried her. It had all happened so fast, she couldn't be sure now if Hugh had been attacked or had fallen on his own dagger when she'd stumbled against him. She bit her lip, aghast at the idea she might be the cause of all this. Yet a moment's thought gave her some comfort. Hugh's belt, a sheathed knife and a dagger all lay on a small chest beside his bed. They were stained with Hugh's blood, but the stains might have resulted from the wound rather than being its cause. Janna tried to recall the scene. 'Did you notice any fallen knife, or dagger, after the lord Hugh was attacked?' she asked Godric.

He frowned. 'No,' he said, after a few moment's reflection. 'Whoever stabbed my lord must have hidden himself among the crowd around the musicians, and taken the dagger with him when he moved on.'

Unless Hugh's dagger was sharp enough to penetrate his side through its sheath when he fell on it, it seemed that another hand must be responsible for his wound. 'They were mostly women and children crowded around the musicians,' Janna recalled. 'Did you recognise any one of them?'

'I wasn't really looking at them.' Godric shrugged. 'I was looking at you.'

Janna blushed a deep, dark red. She dared not look at Sister Anne, or at Hugh, who must surely also have heard. 'Unless it was an accident?' she babbled.

'It may be so.' Hugh spoke so faintly, Janna could hardly hear him. 'Is there blood on my dagger?'

'Yes, my lord.' Godric pulled the dagger from its soft sheath and held them up so that they could see both the bloody weapon and the cut, stained leather of the sheath.

'How stupid of me.' Hugh's eyes closed once more.

Janna took the sheath from Godric and inspected it carefully. It might well have been cut through when Hugh fell, after he'd already been wounded by another's hand. She gave a nervous blink as another possibility came into her mind. What if the dagger had been meant for her, and not Hugh? She remembered how she'd stumbled and fallen against him. A blade meant for her back might well have missed its mark and found Hugh instead.

Her thoughts were in turmoil as she joined the rest of the nuns in the refectory for supper that night. She'd missed dinner and was hungry, and so she sought to forget the questions filling her mind and concentrated on filling her belly instead.

She was further distracted when a small voice broke the silence. 'Wh-whenever any im . . . imp . . . important b-business . . .' Janna wondered why Sister Ursel put herself and everyone else through the torture of her reading, then recalled what Sister Anne had told her.

'She's much better at lettering than reading,' Sister Anne had said. 'She spends all her time either in the scriptorium, or out in one of the carrels off the cloister. She is writing and illuminating the story of St Edith's life. I have seen some of her work and, although I cannot read the pages, her writing is neat and the illuminated letters and pictures are absolutely exquisite. It is a sublime work of art, and it will count as one of the abbey's great treasures once it is complete.' Janna looked up at the nun stammering over the text of the day. She seemed even more distressed than usual. Her eyes were red, and her nose too. As Janna watched, she surreptitiously wiped her nose on the sleeve of her gown. 'L-let the Ab . . . Abbess c-c-call . . .'

Janna couldn't bear it. She stopped listening, but found that questions over the alarums of the day flooded into her mind once more. The novice on one side stroked three fingers on the inside of her hand, and Janna passed her a pat of butter. She placed some pieces of fowl onto her own trencher, and put one into her mouth. Her arm brushed against her swelling breast through the fabric of her gown. She was eating well here in the abbey, she acknowledged, momentarily distracted from her whirling thoughts by the realisation that she was filling out, gaining a woman's shape at last. Her breath quickened as she thought of Hugh lying in the infirmary, half-naked and helpless under her touch. A sweet heat suffused her body. She dragged her thoughts back to the present with an effort as she tried to understand the gestures of the young novice sitting opposite. Why was she pulling on her little finger as if she was milking a cow? Milk? She pushed the jug across, and the novice smiled her thanks.

The tortured reading came to an end. Janna knew she hadn't imagined the sigh of relief that ran around the room. But Sister Ursel did not resume her seat. She jerked her head up so that, for once, she faced everyone, but her attention was wholly on the abbess as she stammered, 'I . . . I have a . . . a fault to report, M-Mother. I h-have mislaid two p-p-pages of . . . of my m-manuscript.'

A hush fell over the room. Thinking of the work that must have gone into the missing sheets, Janna felt intensely sorry for the nun.

'We will deal with this in chapter tomorrow morning. That is the proper place to raise faults and accept punishment,' the abbess said severely. She rose from her chair for the final benediction, indicating that the meal was over and cutting off a faint bleat of protest from Sister Ursel.

Janna was sure that the nun had been about to beg everyone to search for the missing pages. She hoped they all would and resolved to keep her own eyes open in case she should chance upon them. But all thought of the nun's loss was swept aside when Sister Anne materialised at her side and told her that Hugh was asking for her.

'I shall accompany you to the infirmary to attend him,' the nun added severely, clearly not comfortable about the situation but powerless to do anything about it, for the lord was asking and Janna had taken no vows to prevent her from seeing whomsoever she wished.

There was no sign of Godric when they entered the infirmary. 'The lord's man servant has taken the news back to his manor,' Sister Anne told her, anticipating Janna's enquiry. 'I've told him that the lord will need further treatment and that he is in no fit state to travel. I suspect we shall have to keep him here for several days at least.' The nun sighed. 'The abbess isn't happy about it, and I am sure the matter will be raised at chapter.' She brightened, and darted Janna a mischievous glance. 'I managed to allay some of our mother's fears when I suggested that the lord might well make a generous donation to the abbey if he is well treated here.'

Janna gave a snort of laughter, but her mirth quickly died as she brushed aside the curtain and approached Hugh's bed. He was lying quietly, seemingly asleep, but looking so pale it seemed more like the sleep of death to Janna. With a cry of alarm, she bounded forward and laid her ear on his chest to listen for the reassuring thump of his heartbeat.

'Johanna,' he murmured, and she felt his touch, light as a bird's feather, on her cheek. She drew breath in an audible gasp and hastily straightened, meeting Sister Anne's frown of censure. 'I was just checking to make sure he still lived,' she gabbled, aware that a deep blush was staining her face. She looked down at her patient. His smiling eyes showed that he was relishing the scene in spite of his discomfort.

'As you see, I live,' he said helpfully, adding, 'but the pain is such that death almost seems preferable.'