Free Janna Mysteries 1 & 2 Bindup by Felicity Pulman Page A

miller laughed softly. ‘You are a maid, are you not? It is time for you to grow up, Janna, more than time. I am willing to teach you what it means to be a woman.’
    ‘Save your instruction for your wife!’ Janna said tartly, and backed off further. ‘Just give me the flour and I’ll trouble you no more.’
    ‘I told you – I want something more than honey in return for my labour. I’ve decided I want something much sweeter.’
    ‘You’ll have my silence – and your wife’s good humour – in return for not tormenting me further.’
    The miller glowered at Janna. Feeling more confident, she stared back defiantly. With a scowl, he turned then and walked away. Janna lingered by the door, savouring her victory. As the miller returned with the sack, she held out her arms to receive it. The weight of it dragged down her arms, leaving her defenceless as the miller suddenly pulled her in close and kissed her hard on the lips.
    With a cry of outrage, Janna jerked up her knee. The miller’s face darkened with anger as he doubled over in pain. Janna swung around, ready to run. She found Hilde waddling towards her, grim-faced, holding her hands over her belly as if to protect her unborn child.
    Janna tried to find the words to explain the scene that Hilde must surely have witnessed, but she had no chance to say anything for the woman shouldered her aside with an oath and stormed into the cottage, hurling a torrent of abuse at her husband as she did so.
    Janna was sorry that Hilde had further proof of her husband’s nature, yet she was also relieved that Hilde had arrived in time to prevent the miller from chasing after her to vent his anger and frustration. With a wry grimace, she hoisted the heavy bag of flour onto her shoulder and set off once more along the path for home.

O NCE HOME , JANNA kept busy with chores while she waited for her mother. She dug up some precious carrots and turnips for their dinner and fed the tops to the grateful goats, along with a handful of dock, dandelion and other weeds hastily gathered from the forest’s edge. Seeing the tansy and lavender she’d picked that morning still lying on the table, she strewed the aromatic herbs over the floor rushes. Their fragrance scented the smoky room, adding to the rich smell of the vegetable stew which she’d set to bubble in a pot over the fire, awaiting Eadgyth’s return. Janna had already used some of the new flour to make two flat bread cakes on the griddle, and now she ladled some of the vegetables onto one of them, too hungry to wait any longer. Alfred mewed, and batted her with his paw. She put some of her dinner down onto the rushes for him, and he scoffed it hungrily.
    Why was her mother so late returning? Janna yawned, and wondered if she should go to her bed. Yet she knew she’d be too restless to sleep. Curiosity would keep her awake until she finally found out the truth about her father.
    She sat down in her mother’s chair beside the fire. Alfred jumped up and turned in a circle. He dug his claws into her kirtle and kneaded her lap, purring loudly as he made himself comfortable.
    Janna stared into the flickering flames and pondered her mother’s surprising admission. She felt deeply angry that Eadgyth had bought her silence with a lie designed to shut her mouth. Her father might still be alive! Who was he? A common labourer who had moved on, perhaps impelled on his journey by news of her mother’s pregnancy? Did he still live in Berford or Babestoche, or even Wiltune, with a wife and children of his own? Janna sifted through all the men she knew, peasant, merchant and labourer, rejecting each one almost as soon as his face came into her mind. She would surely have sensed a bond when they met, or intercepted a special look between her mother and father when they thought no-one was watching. Besides, if he was a local man, Eadgyth would know for sure whether or not he lived.
    He must be someone from her mother’s past, from a life