and Sister Grace are our teachers, but . . .' She shook her head. 'They teach the oblates, postulants and novices, those who have come to the abbey with a dower. And the greatest part of their instruction is in the forms of the offices and the rules and customs of our house. They also give lessons to those children whose parents wish them to learn their numbers and letters, but the abbey is paid a fee for that instruction.' Sister Anne's meaning was plain, and Janna's high hopes evaporated like dew in the summer sun. 'Besides, I have need of you here,' Sister Anne continued. 'St Edith's fair is less than two weeks away, and there is much to prepare before then.'
It was a bitter blow to Janna's hopes. She knew of nowhere else, other than the abbey, where she might learn to read and write, yet it seemed those skills would be denied her. But there was one more thing that she might learn. 'Did you ever meet my mother, Sister Anne?' she asked eagerly, only to have her hopes dashed again.
'No, I did not. I heard how she had come to the abbey asking for help. That was shortly after our beloved abbess died and Sister Hawise was elevated to take her place.'
Janna noticed how tart the infirmarian's voice became at the mention of the abbess. She continued to massage industriously. Beneath her supple fingers, muscles eased and softened, and the old nun gave a murmuring sigh of relief.
'Do you know of anyone in the abbey who might have spoken to my mother or know anything of her circumstances?' Janna persisted, still not willing to accept defeat.
'No, I do not.' Sister Anne looked in puzzlement at Janna. 'Why do you ask? Is it important?'
'It's very important! You see, I know nothing about my mother, where she came from or what she did before she came here. She told me nothing about her past, but I . . . I have reason to believe she may once have been a nun, perhaps even an infirmarian like you.'
'Why did you not question her?'
'I did! She would not answer me, at least not until just before she died. She was going to tell me, she said, who my father was, for I don't even know that!' Janna's face flushed hot with shame at the admission. She pressed down too hard, and the old nun groaned in protest.
'Be more gentle!' Sister Anne remonstrated. 'Old skin is thin and old bones brittle, remember that.'
'I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you, Sister Angelica.'
'It's all right, child. Your touch gives me relief and I am grateful for it.' The sharp, clear tone reminded Janna that there was another witness to her shameful admission. She blushed anew.
Sister Anne stayed silent for a few moments. 'I can think of no-one who knew your mother, or who spoke to her when she came here, but that need not stop you asking questions when talking is permitted, Johanna.'
'Thank you, Sister. I'll do that.' The conversation was over, all opportunities closed. Janna knew a bleak despair as she continued to carefully massage the old nun's back.
SIX
T HE DAYS RUSHED by, crammed with various activities. If Janna wasn't ministering to the sick under the watchful eye of Sister Anne, she was out gathering herbs and preparing healing salves and decoctions for sale at the fair. In spite of her disappointment over her failure to learn to read, she was happy to be busy and greatly looking forward to the fair, for she was hoping she might get leave to attend with Sister Anne. People were travelling to Wiltune from all around the country, and the guest houses of the abbey, both for pilgrims and poor travellers as well as for the well-to-do, were already full, as were the stables. Every day there was a hustle and bustle in the courtyard as traders came in to pay their respects to the abbess, and their tolls and fees to her steward.
Whenever she was outside in the cloister or in the garden, Janna could hear the faint sound of hammering from the marketmede as booths and stalls were constructed for merchants to display their wares. The travellers who had so frightened her
It was a bitter blow to Janna's hopes. She knew of nowhere else, other than the abbey, where she might learn to read and write, yet it seemed those skills would be denied her. But there was one more thing that she might learn. 'Did you ever meet my mother, Sister Anne?' she asked eagerly, only to have her hopes dashed again.
'No, I did not. I heard how she had come to the abbey asking for help. That was shortly after our beloved abbess died and Sister Hawise was elevated to take her place.'
Janna noticed how tart the infirmarian's voice became at the mention of the abbess. She continued to massage industriously. Beneath her supple fingers, muscles eased and softened, and the old nun gave a murmuring sigh of relief.
'Do you know of anyone in the abbey who might have spoken to my mother or know anything of her circumstances?' Janna persisted, still not willing to accept defeat.
'No, I do not.' Sister Anne looked in puzzlement at Janna. 'Why do you ask? Is it important?'
'It's very important! You see, I know nothing about my mother, where she came from or what she did before she came here. She told me nothing about her past, but I . . . I have reason to believe she may once have been a nun, perhaps even an infirmarian like you.'
'Why did you not question her?'
'I did! She would not answer me, at least not until just before she died. She was going to tell me, she said, who my father was, for I don't even know that!' Janna's face flushed hot with shame at the admission. She pressed down too hard, and the old nun groaned in protest.
'Be more gentle!' Sister Anne remonstrated. 'Old skin is thin and old bones brittle, remember that.'
'I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you, Sister Angelica.'
'It's all right, child. Your touch gives me relief and I am grateful for it.' The sharp, clear tone reminded Janna that there was another witness to her shameful admission. She blushed anew.
Sister Anne stayed silent for a few moments. 'I can think of no-one who knew your mother, or who spoke to her when she came here, but that need not stop you asking questions when talking is permitted, Johanna.'
'Thank you, Sister. I'll do that.' The conversation was over, all opportunities closed. Janna knew a bleak despair as she continued to carefully massage the old nun's back.
SIX
T HE DAYS RUSHED by, crammed with various activities. If Janna wasn't ministering to the sick under the watchful eye of Sister Anne, she was out gathering herbs and preparing healing salves and decoctions for sale at the fair. In spite of her disappointment over her failure to learn to read, she was happy to be busy and greatly looking forward to the fair, for she was hoping she might get leave to attend with Sister Anne. People were travelling to Wiltune from all around the country, and the guest houses of the abbey, both for pilgrims and poor travellers as well as for the well-to-do, were already full, as were the stables. Every day there was a hustle and bustle in the courtyard as traders came in to pay their respects to the abbess, and their tolls and fees to her steward.
Whenever she was outside in the cloister or in the garden, Janna could hear the faint sound of hammering from the marketmede as booths and stalls were constructed for merchants to display their wares. The travellers who had so frightened her
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