Blood Oath: The Janna Chronicles 1

by Felicity Pulman

  “Lies. All lies,” Janna said fiercely. “I believe Robert of Babestoche incited them to rise against me. They would not dare to disobey him.”

  “Why would he do such a thing?” Cecily drew further away from Janna, refusing to be associated with such disloyalty.

  “He had his reasons.” Now that she’d planted the thought in Cecily’s mind, Janna changed the subject. “You said that I was dead—and buried. Who told you that?”

  “The priest. He had it from the shire reeve. It seems a villein, Godric, reported the fire. He told the reeve that he found your body among the burnt remnants of the cottage this morn, and that he’d buried you in the forest. He refused to say where, nor would he show the reeve the site. When the reeve remonstrated with him, Godric told him that he did not trust the priest to give you a proper burial, nor did he trust the villagers to show a decent respect for your grave. The reeve has threatened to take action against him, and the priest is so offended he has ordered Godric to live on bread and water until he confesses. But Godric will tell them only that he has buried you close to the home you loved, so that you might rest in peace.” Cecily looked at Janna in wonderment. “Why would he say that when you are still alive?”

  “I don’t know.” But Janna did. It seemed that in spite of everything, Godric was still protecting her. She said a silent thank you, wishing she could say it to him in person. He must have talked to the villagers, suspected their part in the destruction of her cot, and realized that her safety depended on his lies. There could be no other reason for it. “What else did the priest tell you?” she asked.

  “That’s all I know.”

  “Not quite all. Tell me about Robert of Babestoche. Why is he so hostile toward me, do you think?”

  “He…he believes you are responsible for the death of his baby son. He is afraid you will go on to do more harm if someone doesn’t prevent you.”

  “Knowing all that you know about me and my mother, can you truly believe that?” Another seed to take root and grow in Cecily’s mind. Not giving the tiring woman time to answer, Janna hurried on. “You gave my mother a bottle of wine in return for her help.”

  It was a statement, not a question, but Cecily nodded in confirmation. “Yes,” she said proudly. “It was the finest gift I had to give.” She showed no signs of guilt, Janna thought. Besides, Cecily couldn’t know that Eadgyth had hidden the bottle. She might well believe that Janna herself had shared the wine with her mother. Surely this pointed to Cecily’s innocence?

  “Where did the wine come from? Who gave it to you?” Janna felt a twinge of doubt when Cecily didn’t immediately reply. Had the tiring woman stolen it after all; had the poison been meant for someone else?

  Cecily heaved a mournful sigh. “It was a gift from my lover,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “A gift to you? Or was it for you to give to my mother?”

  “It was a gift to me.” Cecily gave a forlorn sniff. “My lover was exceeding wroth when I told him I had given it away, even after I explained the reason for it. I told him I had naught else to give your mother, and that I did what I did to protect both of us.”

  Janna’s triumph was followed instantly by black anger and bitter grief. Yet she must not betray how she felt, for nothing was proven yet. There was still much to find out. “Did you taste any of the wine before you gave it to my mother?”

  “No, of course not! It was a gift.” Cecily looked indignant. “Why do you ask these questions? I didn’t want to give the wine away; I would rather have kept it to drink after my ordeal. And I’d planned to keep the bottle as proof that, in spite of everything, my lover still cared about me.”

  Her protest sounded wholly convincing. It was time, now, to make Cecily answer the question that Janna could have asked her right at the very beginning.

  “Tell me then, who is your lover?” She steeled herself to listen to Cecily’s reply. What if she’d read the situation all wrong? What if, after all, Hugh’s kindness and flattery had meant absolutely nothing?

  “I cannot tell you that!” An obstinate scowl marred Cecily’s fine features.

  “I need to know. Believe me, it’s very important. If you won’t answer that, then tell me who you were expecting to meet when you got my message?”

  The tiring woman stayed silent.

  “Is this your usual meeting place?”

  Cecily swallowed hard, but kept mute.

  “You were expecting to meet your lover, weren’t you! You were expecting to meet—” Janna paused. Hugh, whose livelihood might depend on his aunt’s good opinion? Or Robert, who stood to lose everything if Dame Alice discovered the truth? “Robert of Babestoche,” Janna said, then held her breath.

  A shocked gasp was her only answer. Cecily glanced at the door as if planning to escape. Janna’s muscles tightened in anticipation of stopping her.

  “Tell me who you were expecting to meet here, Cecily!” she demanded.

  No reply. In the silence, Janna heard soft scufflings, rustlings as tiny creatures went about their business.

  “Listen,” she snapped, losing patience at last, “I’ve risked everything to meet you here. Just answer my question. Or nod if I’ve got it right. You and Lord Robert have had an affair, yes?”

  Cecily gave a reluctant nod. Janna felt her muscles relax. She began to breathe again.

  “You told him you were expecting his child?”

  This time the nod was accompanied by tears. Cecily buried her face in her hands. “I know that what I did was wrong,” she said, “but his kind words and compliments persuaded me that he cared for me, that he loved me. I know he does not love Dame Alice, for he spends little time in her company and much time seeking his pleasure elsewhere. I thought, when he wooed me, that he meant his loving words. I was wrong.” Her voice shook with desolation. “When I told him I was with child, I expected him to rejoice at the news. Our own child, an expression of our love.” Unconsciously, Cecily’s hands moved to stroke her stomach, to cradle the unborn baby that was no more. Tears coursed down her cheeks unheeded. “Instead of welcoming a child to bless our union and seal our love, he was exceedingly wrathful with me. He bade me tell no-one of my condition; in truth, he threatened me.”

  Now that she had started, the words gushed out in a flood. “While I waited for him to speak of love, he told me instead that I would have to leave the manor, go far away, and that he would make the plans for my departure. I understood then that, while Robert takes his pleasure elsewhere, he will do nothing to upset Dame Alice or cause her to turn against him. He warned me that she must never find out about our liaison for, if she did, she would cast me out of the manor in disgrace, and I would have nowhere else to go!” A tinge of bitterness crept into her tone. “I suspect he fears that Dame Alice might also take similar action against him. He greatly fears her wrath for she holds everything in her own right, as an inheritance from her family. Robert was but her steward before she married him.”

  Fear. Cecily’s words confirmed what Janna had suspected lay behind all that had happened. Fear of being found out. Fear of losing the comfort and privilege to which Robert had become accustomed. Cecily raised a tear-stained face to Janna.

  “I know now that what was between us is over. I was only ever a passing fancy for Robert, but I do not wish to leave Dame Alice and my home here. I hoped Robert would change his mind if I could persuade your mother to help me. I have wronged my lady, I know, while she has only ever been kind to me. She is the only family I have—and yet I betrayed her trust. I cannot forgive myself for that, not ever.”

  Janna put a comforting arm around Cecily as she started to cry once more. Cecily’s hopes and dreams were already shattered, but there was more to come. This final betrayal would likely destroy her altogether. Janna could only hope that Cecily was stronger than she looked. She searched for the words to break the news as gently as she could.

  “You said the wine was a gift from Robert. What did he say when he gave it to you?”

&nb
sp; “He said I looked ill. He said that he was worried about me. He bade me keep the wine for my own, but tell no-one of his gift. He told me to drink it down, saying it would give me strength and make me well again.” Cecily tossed her head. “I know now that his only concern was to keep my condition a secret until he could send me away.”

  “Was the bottle sealed when he gave it to you?”

  Cecily frowned as she thought about it. “There was a stopper, but no seal.”

  “Because it was not sealed, did you add anything to the wine before you gave it to my mother, special herbs perhaps, or maybe some honey to make it more palatable?”

  This was Cecily’s final test, although Janna was already sure she knew the answer.

  “Of course not! The wine of Normandy is very fine, whatever Dame Alice might say about it.”

  Once again, Janna’s suspicions rose to the surface. Before trying to poison his mistress, had Robert first tried to poison his wife? She tried to calm her agitation. She must not say what she believed, at least not yet. “This was not a fine wine,” she said softly. She put her hand on Cecily’s arm to steady her. “The wine that Robert gave you contained monkshood. The poison was meant for you, Cecily.”

  “No!” Cecily’s howl of distress echoed around the empty stable.

  “Robert meant you to drink the wine,” Janna said steadily. “That was how he planned for you to leave Babestoche Manor. He knew his secret would be safe if you were dead.”

  “No!” Cecily cried again, her voice catching in her throat. “You are mistaken! Your grief over your mother’s death will not let you believe that it was one of her own potions that poisoned her.”

  Janna wondered if Cecily really believed that, or if she was merely trying to protect Robert, and herself, from the truth. She walked over to an empty barrel and reached inside to find the bottle she had secreted there. She held it out to Cecily for her inspection. “This is the bottle that you gave to my mother, is it not? She took a sip or two, but she poured the rest away, recognizing, I think, that there was something wrong with it. I saw the stain on the ground, although at the time I didn’t understand what it meant. You told me that my mother called for a monk as she lay dying. You were wrong. She was trying to tell you that the wine was poisoned and that the poison was monkshood. She was trying to warn you that Robert wants you dead.”

  “No! I don’t believe you. Surely you are mistaken!” The statement was uttered without conviction. The seeds that Janna had planted were now in full bloom.

  “We never drank wine, my mother and I; we could not afford it. Not being familiar with its taste, she would not have known at first that there was anything wrong with it. And so she drank enough to kill her, although her dying took some time.” Janna paused, wondering how best to phrase what she needed to say next. “It seems that Dame Alice was more fortunate.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You told me she said that the wine was tainted. I, myself, saw her knock to the floor the wine Robert poured for her.”

  Cecily’s face paled as she came to understand the full import of Janna’s words. She reached out and took the bottle from her hands, and turned it over and over as if to fathom the secret it held. “This was my gift from Robert,” she whispered, “and yes, I defied him, I broke my promise of silence. I thought it was safe to do so. I thought if I could go to him afterward and tell him that the danger had passed, he might relent and let me stay. Instead he berated me for going to your mother and giving her this gift, even though I promised him that I’d never uttered his name with a single breath, and that no-one could connect my plight with him.”

  Janna remembered the scene she’d witnessed between them in the hall. In truth, Cecily had been pleading to stay on at the manor. But instead of chastising her for leaving without permission, as Janna had supposed, Robert was in a rage because she’d involved Eadgyth in their affair, and with unforeseen consequences. “You have every reason to fear the lord,” she warned, “he lies behind everything that has happened. You see, he heard me ask Aldith if there was monkshood in the cordial she shared with my mother. After your confession, he knew exactly how and why my mother died, and he also knows that I do not believe she died by her own hand. To protect himself, he discredited me and did all in his power to stop me talking about my suspicions. Finally he incited the villagers to frighten me away by burning my cottage to the ground. I’m sure he was delighted to learn that they’d also caused my death!”

  “How could I have so misjudged him!” Cecily thrust the bottle back into Janna’s hands.

  Janna recalled other young women who had visited her mother for the same reason as Cecily. “You are not the first to be gulled by flattery and kindness,” she said, hiding a smile as she remembered her own reaction to Hugh.

  “And because of it, you are without a home while your mother lies dead.” Cecily shuddered. “I am so sorry, Janna. Truly, I would rather have died in her place than bring her harm and cause you this grief. Yet I acted in all innocence, please, please believe that.”

  “I do believe you. And I don’t hold you responsible for my mother’s death. The blame lies full square with Lord Robert, who has shown that he will stop at nothing to save his own skin.”

  “How did you know he was my lover? How did you come to suspect him?”

  “I didn’t, at first. Then I remembered the lord Hugh telling me how distressed Robert was when my mother took ill and he was summoned to Dame Alice’s bedchamber. Hugh thought it was because Robert expected to find Dame Alice knocking on death’s door, but I think now that it was the shock of seeing you alive and well when he thought he had silenced you forever.”

  In her distress, Cecily was tearing at the kerchief in her hand, ripping it apart. Janna felt deeply sorry for her, but she had come here to convince Cecily of the danger she faced if she stayed on at the manor. “I thought nothing of it at the time,” Janna continued, determined that Cecily should know and understand everything. “It was only when I added it to everything else that had happened, including the scene I witnessed between you and Robert and the subsequent action he has taken against me, that I began to understand who was behind all this.”

  No need to mention Hugh’s name, Janna thought, feeling light-hearted that Hugh wasn’t implicated after all. “There were others I suspected before I reached that conclusion,” she admitted. “Aldith, the midwife, for one, and also the priest and Fulk, the apothecary—they all had good reason to want my mother dead, and the means to bring it about. But once I began to ask questions, I was forced to rule them all out for one reason or another, until only Robert was left. A kitchen maid confirmed that he knows where monkshood grows in the garden and is fully aware of how dangerous it is. His motive was to silence you, if not his wife, and he had the perfect opportunity to do it, except that you gave his gift away and my mother died instead.”

  Tears came into Janna’s eyes. She hurriedly turned away so that Cecily would not see them. “I must go,” she said. “It’s not safe for me to stay here. It’s not safe for you either, mistress. You must leave this place, and quickly, before Robert tries once again to silence you.”

  There was no response. Cecily was staring blindly at the bottle that had caused so much harm. Janna set it down on the earthen floor, and wiped her hands.

  “You must flee,” she said again. “You’ve escaped death for the moment, but you’ll always be a threat to Robert while you stay here.”

  “I doubt he’ll try anything against me now,” Cecily said tiredly. “The baby is lost and the danger is over. No-one would believe me if I spoke out against him, but he knows I won’t, for it would jeopardize my place here at the manor and in Dame Alice’s heart. He must think the secret of the wine is also safe, for the only witnesses were you and your mother. So far as he knows, his secret has gone to the grave with you.”

  Janna shook her head. “Even if you could be sure of your own safety, mistress, it would surely be better for you to leave, to start a
new life away from this place with its sad memories. Do you not have any kin you could go to, who would give you shelter and look after you?”

  “I have no-one save Dame Alice. My father was her tenant, and she took me in when he died. I was only a child, but she was very kind to me.” Cecily’s lips quivered. “I have betrayed her, I know, but I will not do so again, nor will I let any harm befall her.” She squared her shoulders and faced Janna. “From now on, I will taste my lady’s wine before she drinks it. She will not find it tainted again.”

  Janna respected Cecily’s desire to make amends, but still she felt deep concern for the vulnerable young woman. “Just as I have assumed a new identity, so can you.” She grasped Cecily’s hand. “Come away with me,” she urged. “Come away to safety.”

  “No.” New courage and conviction shone in Cecily’s eyes and Janna understood that she would not be persuaded to run. She gave a reluctant nod and released Cecily’s hand, stepping away.

  “Then I beg you, for your own sake, to be careful,” she said. “And for the safety of both of us, please keep your knowledge that I am alive to yourself, for Robert would have me dead, if it ensures his safety.”

  Cecily nodded sadly. “I will keep a careful watch,” she said, adding, “but it is not only Dame Alice who keeps me here. I fear what would become of me should I leave. I have not your courage, Janna, nor do I possess the knowledge that will help you earn a living wherever you may go.”

  Janna was startled by the admission. She gave a short laugh. “It is not only courage that accompanies my journey, it is also hope. Besides, I have no choice but to leave. But you, mistress, have more courage than you know.” And you will need it, she added silently. It would be hard for Cecily to face Dame Alice with the knowledge of her betrayal, but even harder to face Robert knowing the depths of his depravity.