Blood Oath: The Janna Chronicles 1

by Felicity Pulman

  “Take care what you say!” Shocked, Aldith shook a warning finger at Janna. “You cannot go around accusing him—or anyone else for that matter—unless you have very strong proof of his guilt.”

  “Listen to what I have learned.” Janna moved a stool close to Aldith and sat down. She lowered her voice, so that anyone coming into the room would not be able to hear their conversation. “I have seen monkshood growing freely in the manor’s kitchen garden. Fulk used the roots in a rubbing oil to treat my lord Robert’s aches and pains. He knows that it is poisonous, for he warned my lord about its properties. And he has it growing right here, close to his hand. But that’s not all. He ordered a hot posset to be made for Dame Alice.” Janna paused so that the full import of her words might sink in. “I have found out, and from the priest himself, that my mother tasted the posset just before she died!”

  She waited expectantly, sure that Aldith would follow her line of reasoning.

  “And?” Aldith shifted her stool slightly away as if to distance herself from Janna’s suspicions.

  “So it’s obvious, isn’t it? Fulk offered a partnership in his shop at Wiltune to my mother and she went along with it until she’d been received by Dame Alice. After that, she sent him away, leaving no-one in any doubt as to her low opinion of him. She ingratiated herself with the lady, and sullied the apothecary’s professional reputation at the same time. No wonder he hated her and feared her influence. No wonder he wished her gone! And he had the ways and means to make his wish come true. A few drops of the rubbing oil in the posset and—” Janna clicked her fingers, indicating the rest.

  Aldith’s round O of a mouth told Janna that Fulk’s proposition was news to the midwife. She sniffed then and her face settled into angry lines. “I know how rude and outspoken your mother could be. Small wonder if Master Fulk wished her harm.”

  “She didn’t deserve to die for telling the truth!” Janna contradicted sharply. What could she say to convince Aldith that the apothecary should be brought to justice for her mother’s death? If she could bring the midwife around to her way of thinking, Aldith might join her in persuading Robert of Babestoche to try the apothecary for her mother’s murder in his manorial court, or else refer the case to the shire reeve. There might be a chance of justice for her mother after all.

  “There is a flaw in your reasoning,” the midwife pointed out. “Fulk couldn’t know for certain that your mother would taste a posset meant for Dame Alice and then throw it out.”

  “He could have slipped in the poison just before he handed the cup to my mother.”

  “How did he know she would even be present in the bedchamber? It’s all too uncertain, Janna. Besides, he would never have taken such a risk with my lady’s life.”

  Janna’s high expectations deflated as she saw the truth of Aldith’s words. Then she brightened. “Perhaps Fulk carried the poison about with him always, just waiting for this sort of opportunity.” Sure now that she had the truth of the matter, she beamed in triumph at Aldith. “He could have flattered my mother. He could have asked her to taste the mixture and give him her opinion on it.”

  “If that is so, then others will have heard him ask it. Someone may even have seen him adding the oil to the mixture.” Aldith put a restraining hand on Janna’s arm once more. “Before you accuse anyone, let’s ask the tiring women exactly what happened in Dame Alice’s bedchamber.”

  “I’ll ask Mistress Cecily.” Suspecting Cecily’s secret, Janna felt sure the tiring woman would have watched Eadgyth carefully on her arrival at the manor for any signs of betrayal. If Fulk had said or done anything untoward, Cecily would surely have noticed. She tapped a foot, impatient for action.

  Aldith hesitated. “My lord Robert asked you to leave. You are not welcome here. Go back to your cottage, Janna. I can talk to the tiring women and report their words to you, if you would like me to do so.”

  Was Aldith just being kind, or was her true purpose to get Janna out of the manor and out of her way? Janna had no way of knowing. She felt ashamed of her suspicions, but she knew anyway that this was a task that she alone must fulfil, for only she knew the right questions to ask, and only she had the courage to ask them.

  “It’s true he told me to go,” she admitted, “but Dame Alice’s nephew has asked me to wait here. As I can’t serve two masters, I would rather serve myself. I cannot rest until I find out who was responsible for my mother’s death, for if I know anything in this life, I know that she did not die by her own hand. The culprit must be brought to justice, Mistress Aldith. So I do thank you for your offer, but it would be unfair to involve you in this business, especially if Fulk succeeds in turning all the household against me.”

  The midwife nodded, seeming relieved to be rid of further responsibility. Nevertheless, she sounded a note of warning. “I understand you’re looking for someone to blame, but you must tread carefully, Janna. Fulk is an important man in Wiltune. Many hold him in high regard. If you accuse him of poisoning your mother, do you really think anyone will take your word against his?”

  “They must, if I have proof.” Although she spoke bravely, Janna knew the danger of the path she had chosen. Yet she knew also that she could not give up her search for justice and the truth.

  Janna and Aldith sat on in silence, each busy with her own thoughts. Janna’s eyes began to droop with tiredness, until the sound of a door opening jerked her back into wakefulness once more. Cecily had emerged. She was on her own, and her steps checked when she saw them waiting. For a moment Janna thought she might retreat, but she set off once more, keeping her face averted as she hurried to the door.

  Janna jumped to her feet. Now was her best chance to prove Fulk’s guilt, if only the tiring woman had seen what must have happened and was brave enough to bear witness against him.

  “Mistress Cecily, a moment, please,” she called. “May I ask you something?”

  Cecily stopped, and turned to Janna with seeming reluctance.

  “The priest told me that the doctor ordered a hot posset to be made up for Dame Alice and that my mother tasted it?”

  Cecily nodded slowly. “’Tis true. Master Fulk brought the posset to Dame Alice’s bedchamber.”

  “Did he say what was in it?”

  “Nettles and mint, among other things. It wasn’t the first time he’d ordered it for my lady. He boasted that it was a marvelous tonic, and that it would restore her to health far quicker than any mixtures your mother might give her.”

  Janna bit back a sharp retort, saying instead, “So my mother wasn’t with Dame Alice when the apothecary brought in the posset?” She had to get all the facts, even if they didn’t take her in the direction she’d expected.

  “No, but she came in only a few moments later. She demanded to know what was in the mixture, but Master Fulk wouldn’t tell her. Your mother seized the cup and tasted its contents for herself. We were all amazed, for she never even asked Dame Alice’s permission to do so.”

  Brushing aside Cecily’s regard for etiquette, Janna asked, “Did Dame Alice also taste the posset?”

  “No. She said it was too hot to drink, so she set it aside to cool.”

  Janna felt a surge of excitement. Trying to sound composed, she asked the most important question. “Cecily, did Master Fulk add anything to the posset after my mother entered the room?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She screwed up her delicate features in concentration. “No, I’m sure not.”

  “Did he, perhaps, ask my mother to try the posset?”

  “No, indeed. In fact, he tried to prevent her from taking up the cup. The posset was for Dame Alice to drink, not your mother!”

  Janna and Aldith exchanged glances. Aldith shook her head in warning, but Janna could not give up now. “Did my mother say anything about the posset, about its taste perhaps?” There was an edge of desperation in her question.

  Unexpectedly, Cecily grinned. “She was extremely rude about it. She took a few sips and then poured the rest of
it out of the window. When Master Fulk complained, she told him she’d brought a far better tonic for Dame Alice, and while rose petals, nettles, mint and honey might make a sweet concoction, to her certain knowledge they had never cured anything more serious than a mild stomach ache!”

  Rose petals, nettles, mint and honey. Janna closed her eyes, disappointed that it could not be the posset that had killed her mother. Eadgyth would certainly have warned Dame Alice that it contained monkshood if she’d detected its presence. She should have thought of that before.

  “That is where I am bound now,” Cecily said. “Fulk has ordered me to fetch another posset from the cook, although methinks my lady needs something different, something strong enough to relieve her low spirits, for that is what ails her most.” She shook her head. “My poor lady,” she said softly. “She is in such distress. I think she would do better to drink several cups of the new wine that has come from Normandy. At least it would dull her senses; it might even bring her the comfort of sleep.”

  Janna remembered how the lady had sent the goblet tumbling to the floor. “Does Dame Alice not drink wine?”

  “She does, but she says this latest shipment is tainted. I think she does exaggerate, for my master says that the wine is of the very finest quality.”

  “I have only ever tasted dandelion and nettle wine,” Janna confessed. A picture came into her mind of Robert and his household sitting down to dine, and the array of fine food and fine wines they would consume. The hollow in her stomach reminded her how little she had eaten recently, and how poor and basic were the meals she’d shared with her mother. She brought her mind back to the questions she still wanted to ask. Cecily might have demolished the case against Fulk, but there was a lot more that she could tell.

  “I must go,” Cecily said quietly. “Dame Alice is waiting for her posset.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Janna fell into step beside her before she could refuse. In silence, they descended the stairs leading to the grounds of the manor.

  Outside, she asked, “Can you tell me what else passed between my mother and Master Fulk after she poured the posset away? Did she, by any chance, taste any of his other concoctions?”

  “No, she did not. She told him to leave the bedchamber. He would not go and began a loud argument, but Dame Alice insisted that he leave them all in peace. Of course, he returned as soon as he heard your mother was taken ill, but—”

  “Did he offer her any physic then?” It was possible her mother had taken ill, and then Fulk had seen to it that she never recovered, Janna thought. Her hopes were dashed as Cecily again shook her head. Not Fulk, then. It seemed he must be innocent after all.

  She cast her mind to others who might have wished her mother harm. She remembered her conversation with the priest. He’d dismissed her suspicions of Fulk, but how clear was his own conscience? The priest had told her he’d been in the bedchamber and had witnessed the scene between her mother and the apothecary. If the priest had fallen for the merchant’s patter in the marketplace, he too would have access to a phial of oil and could have used it to poison her mother somehow. It would explain his dismay when he heard her accuse Fulk of the crime he himself had committed. She turned to Cecily. “What about the priest?” she asked. “Did he touch the posset at any time?”

  “No.”

  “Or offer my mother anything to eat or drink?”

  “No.” Cecily gave a sudden snort of laughter. “He kept as far away from your mother as possible. I think he was frightened of her. She had an answer for everything he said. She always managed to silence him.”

  Janna felt a sharp pang of remembrance. “An ignorant bigot,” Eadgyth had called the priest, after their hasty exit from his church. “Because he hates women, he would have us believe that Christ did too.” Eadgyth would have enjoyed giving him a taste of her sharp tongue. Could she have angered him enough to kill her? But even if she had, it seemed he did not have the opportunity to put his wishes into action.

  Not the priest then, and not Fulk. That meant Janna would have to consider more carefully the time leading up to her mother’s arrival at the manor house. In this, Cecily held the key.

  She put out a hand to detain the tiring lady, and drew her into the shade of a barn. “My mother had a visitor the morning before she died,” she said carefully.

  Cecily said nothing, but Janna noticed her hands clench and unclench at her side.

  “The visit was a great secret,” Janna continued. “I knew it must be someone very special, for I was not allowed to stay while my mother treated her.”

  Cecily’s face paled. Janna was afraid she might swoon, she looked so distraught. She waited a few moments, then said patiently, “You were gone from the manor when you were supposed to be resting. You were gone at the time my mother expected her visitor.”

  Cecily averted her face, and did not answer. Janna sighed. “It was you, wasn’t it? I know, from the herbs I was sent to gather, that you were with child and that you came to my mother for help.”

  Cecily swayed, and put out a hand to support herself against the wall of the barn. Her face was anguished as she gasped, “You must not tell anyone of this. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Why? Why is it dangerous?”

  “Because…because I am unwed, and in Dame Alice’s employ. If she knew of my shame, she would send me away. But I have nowhere else to go.”

  “Could the baby’s father not help you? Could you not be wed?” Janna wondered who it could be that he could leave a young woman to face her disgrace alone. Some lowly servant or farmhand, perhaps, who would not dare brave the wrath of the lord of the manor?

  “No, indeed! That’s not possible.”

  Because the father was already married? Or was he too highborn to wed someone of Cecily’s comparatively low status? Janna remembered Hugh supporting Cecily at Eadgyth’s graveside. How solicitous he had been over her health; how protective were his arms about her waist as he helped her mount before leading her away. Was Hugh the father of Cecily’s child? No matter how strong his feelings might be for Cecily, no matter how strong the bond between them, Janna was sure that he would not want his aunt to know that he’d got her tiring woman into trouble.

  Pushing her doubts—and her disappointment—aside, Janna said gently, “I understand. Forgive me for distressing you, mistress, but I need to ask a few more questions about my mother. You see, I had thought she must have taken some poison at the manor house to cause her death, but I see now that I was mistaken. Now I believe my mother must have taken some food or drink, or somehow imbibed the poison even before she came to the manor house.”

  Janna watched Cecily carefully, curious to observe her reaction. The tiring woman was still deathly pale with the shock of having her secret discovered. Was she now also fearful that Janna might discover an even more dreadful secret: that Cecily herself had made sure of the wortwyf’s silence? Janna liked Cecily, and felt deeply sorry for her, but she knew she couldn’t allow her sympathy to blind her to the fact that Cecily had lied once and might well do so again.

  “You were with my mother on the morning of her death,” she said carefully. “Did you see her eat or drink anything while you were at the cottage?”

  “No.” Cecily thought for a moment. “No,” she said again.

  “You didn’t take anything to her?”

  Cecily bridled. “Of course I did! I gave her a costly gift in return for her labor and skill.”

  Janna nodded. That was only to be expected. “And you didn’t share any food or drink with her?”

  “No. I drank only the potion your mother made for me. She bade me wait until it took effect, but it was a long walk home and so I left straight away.” Cecily shuddered. Tears came into her eyes as she relived what had happened next. “Truly, I thought I was like to die. I had such cramps that I could hardly walk the distance. I was also in great distress of mind. Your mother was very kind to me. She’d warned me how it would be, and she bade me rest at your cot so th
at she could take care of me until the worst of it had passed. But I was in haste to be gone, lest my absence be noted and remarked upon, and so I didn’t tarry.”

  “Did my mother go back to the manor with you? Were you with her when she met Mistress Aldith?”

  “No!” Cecily shook her head. “She told me she needed to prepare a tonic for Dame Alice’s ailing babe, and so I went ahead on my own. I’d told everyone I was ill and needed to rest, you see, and I crept in, hoping my absence hadn’t been noticed.” A watery smile gleamed momentarily. “It seems I was not careful enough, however.”

  “So they know you were absent, but no-one from the manor knows where you really were or the purpose of your absence?”

  “No.” Cecily seized hold of Janna’s hand. “You must not speak of this to anyone, anyone at all,” she begged. “Should Dame Alice come to hear of it, I would lose my position here along with my livelihood. Promise me you will keep silent, even if your mother could not.”

  “My mother kept her promise to you,” Janna said at once. “It was only after my lord Hugh spoke of your absence from the manor, and I saw how ill you looked, and remembered how you tried to care for my mother when she lay dying, that I thought her secret visitor might have been you. Even so, I was not sure. You could have denied it. I might even have believed you.”

  Cecily tipped her head to one side, assessing Janna with a thoughtful stare. “I think you see and know a lot more than any of us realize,” she said. “You certainly ask enough questions!”

  Janna smiled, taking Cecily’s words as a compliment. Yet it was no time for smiling. Cecily had utterly demolished her carefully constructed case against Fulk and against the priest, and was well on the way to clearing her own name. She might have to start her investigation all over again. “Can you tell me anything at all about your visit to my mother that might have led to her death?” she asked.