Blood Oath: The Janna Chronicles 1

Love, revenge, secrets—and murder—in a medieval kingdom at war.

A young woman, left alone and destitute after the mysterious death of her mother, plants a sprig of rosemary on her grave and vows, somehow, to bring the murderer to justice. But who can Janna trust with the truth? Even the villein Godric, who wants to marry her, and Hugh, the dashing nobleman, have secrets that threaten her heart and her safety.

In a country torn apart by the vicious civil war between King Stephen and the Empress Matilda, Janna needs all her wits and courage to stay alive as she comes closer to those who are determined to silence her forever.

This book is a work of fiction. The herbal remedies and practices detailed herein are based on ancient folklore and should not under any circumstances be considered as an actual remedy for any ailment or condition.

The wolf’s howl shattered the dark, secretive forest. Startled, Janna spun around, straining to pinpoint the direction of the sound. Her torch flickered and almost died with the sudden movement. Fighting panic, she cupped her fingers around the flame to protect and steady it. The light gave her an illusion of safety and she took courage from it, for she was alone out here, with no protection against the prowling predators of the forest. No protection against wolves.

Janna cursed the quick temper that had sent her fleeing into the night without bringing even a knife to defend herself. She raised the torch higher, watching for movement, listening intently for a telltale rustling.

All was still. Her gaze moved up to the full moon, floating above in a blaze of radiant silver light, brightening the sky almost to daylight. Yet even the moon’s brilliance could not penetrate the tree-shadowed darkness that surrounded her. It was heavy with mystery and threat.

The crackle of dry leaves set her heart racing. A deer? A fox? Not loud enough to be a wild boar—but a wolf would move quietly, stealing up on its prey. At once Janna’s imagination conjured the beast creeping through the forest toward her. Her first impulse was to run, to put as much distance between her and the wolf as possible, but she remembered her mother’s warning: “
Never turn your back on a wild animal
.” She kept still, knowing that she could never outpace a wolf—never.

She swallowed hard, gulping down fear. The thin trail she followed ran deep into the forest, into the wild and tangled places where the wolf was surely lurking. Should she go on, or go back to their cot? The immense forest closed around her, hushed and still. Nothing moved; there was no sound now to break the silence. The wolf’s howl wasn’t so very loud, she thought. Perhaps it was too far away to be any real threat.

Janna set off once more, leaves crunching, twigs snapping under her boots. If she hurried, she could pick the wild strawberries and leave the forest before the wolf even knew she was there. She couldn’t just abandon her mission, for the strawberries were important: her mother needed them for a special potion. They had planned to pick them together.

“It’s a foul-tasting mixture. The fruits will add sweetness and strengthen the blood, but we must go tonight for there will be no time to pick them before my visitor comes tomorrow,” Eadgyth had fussed, all the while pulling from the shelf the other ingredients she would need. Janna knew, without her mother saying, that it was a mix to bring on a woman’s monthly courses and so prevent an unwanted child from developing in the womb. The church forbade the practice and most women remained obedient to both the priest and their husbands. Sometimes, however, worn out with childbirth and with already too many mouths to feed, they were desperate enough to seek Eadgyth’s help. Even then, she acted only if she was truly convinced of their need. From Eadgyth’s preparations this evening, it was clear she was sympathetic to the woman’s cause and was prepared to help her.

“Who is she?” Janna had asked, but her mother hadn’t answered, saying only, “I want you out of the cottage by the time she arrives.”

“Why won’t you let me stay and help you?”

“Not this time.”

“You never let me help!”

Eadgyth had sighed impatiently. “You’re already responsible for maintaining our herb garden as well as helping me prepare my medicaments. You also have the goats and hens to look after. That’s more than enough to keep you busy.”

“But I don’t want to just keep busy. I want to
learn
.”

“I’ve already taught you everything I know.”

“But knowledge isn’t enough! I need experience too. How will I ever get that if you never let me help you when you visit the sick, or do anything when they come here?”

“You know enough for now.” Eadgyth had turned back to her decoction. Janna knew, from long experience, that the subject was closed. She seethed with resentment. She was seventeen years old. When would her mother stop treating her like a child?

“’Tis well it’s a full moon tonight. Picked at night, the strawberries will carry the moon’s power,” Eadgyth had continued. At that point Janna had stopped listening. If it wasn’t the moon, it was the time of day or night, or the alignment of the planets that must be favorable. She’d heard her mother say the same sort of thing a thousand times in the past. Doubtless she’d be saying the same things to Fulk in the future. Once she went into partnership with him. Janna scowled as her mind went back to the scene from which she had fled.

The loud knocking had startled both of them. Eadgyth paused in the act of pulling on her boots. “Who could that be?” She’d flashed a sly smile at Janna. “Are you expecting a suitor to come calling? Godric, maybe?”

“No!” Even as Janna issued the denial, Godric’s face flashed into her mind. Her cheeks heated at the memory of the sturdy young man who had come to their door late at night some weeks ago, seeking aid for his ailing mother. Somewhat to her disappointment, he hadn’t been back. His mother had made a good recovery, so Eadgyth had said.

“I saw the way Godric looked at you. I think you’ve taken his fancy, Janna.” There was a twinkle in Eadgyth’s eyes as she teased her daughter.

Janna flushed under her mother’s scrutiny, and kept on fastening her cloak.

“He is a fine, well-set fellow, and I know he has a good heart. You could do a lot worse,” Eadgyth observed. Another knock came, more urgent this time. “Likely it’s some poor soul in trouble. Go to the door, Janna. See who it is.” She bent to her boots once more.

Janna opened the door. Her welcoming smile died and her heartbeat slowed to normal. Not Godric but Master Fulk the apothecary. Eadgyth sometimes bought supplies from his shop in Wiltune to make up her own medicaments and creams, although he’d been absent of late. It seemed he’d been summoned to Babestoche Manor to attend Dame Alice during the last few weeks of her pregnancy. Local gossip said that Fulk divided his time between the manor, his shop, and the alehouses in Wiltune, where he boasted of his skill and his noble patronage to any who might listen. What on earth could he want with them?

“Good evening, Johanna. Is your mother home? Might I have a word?” Master Fulk pulled a large square of yellow silk from his scrip and mopped his red, sweating face. Their small cottage was some distance from Babestoche Manor, and the journey had obviously taken its toll on the apothecary’s constitution.

Janna bobbed her head and made way for him to enter. His large presence dominated the small, smoke-filled room, lit only by the flickering light of the fire at its center. In unusual deference, the apothecary bowed to Eadgyth.

Janna noted her mother’s smile of chilly politeness as she greeted him. She grinned inwardly, knowing her mother’s opinion of Fulk both as a man and as an apothecary. “
Wortwyf
I may be called,” Janna’s mother had declared when news of his presence at the manor became known, “but as a herbwife I know far more of women’s troubles than that turnip head! Even Aldith, the midwife, knows more than him. He’s a posturing ignoramus. What does he know of the difficulties of carrying and birthing children? What does any man know, or care? In my opinion, Janna, if Fulk was even half so skilled as he claims, he would surely be ministering to King Stephen himself instead of selling his nostrums to any wealthy enough to pay for the privilege of being gulled by him!”

Eadgyth kept her smile firmly in place as Fulk pushed Alfred, their big black cat, off the heavy wooden chair that stood beside the fire. The chair had been crafted by Eadgyth herself, along with the stuffed cushions that provided extra comfort. With a grimace of distaste, the apothecary brushed off black cat hairs then sank down, expelling a sigh of relief.

Janna picked up Alfred and settled onto a stool nearby, waiting eagerly for Fulk’s explanation of this unusual visit. His opening was unexpected.

“My dear Eadgyth, I am come here to make you an offer I am sure can work only to your advantage.”

Fulk paused, perhaps waiting for Eadgyth’s delighted response. When it was not forthcoming, he continued. “You will have heard that I am skilled in the art of healing…” He stopped, frowning at Janna’s barely suppressed snort. Eadgyth kept silent, giving him no help at all.

“Of course, my knowledge is far greater than yours for I have taken instruction in
scientia
from scholars in Oxeneford. Small wonder that the infirm and elderly come from far and wide to consult me, knowing that they will benefit from my plasters and poultices, my pills, tonics and mixtures.”

And when those fail, they come to my mother!
Janna kept her thoughts to herself with difficulty.

Fulk looked expectantly at Eadgyth, searching for an acknowledgment of the honor of his presence here in their cottage. She tilted her head, and waited for him to continue. A heavy silence settled, broken eventually by the apothecary.

“However, there are still many mysteries concerning the human body which are known only to God.”

“And perhaps to me. Is that why you’re here?” Eadgyth said. “Are you here to ask my advice, Master Fulk?”

“No, no, of course not.” With an airy laugh, the apothecary dismissed the thought.

“Then why, pray, do you come knocking at my door so late at night?” Eadgyth settled onto a stool opposite Fulk, and stared at him intently.

“Because…because I have an offer for you to consider. We both practice the healing arts. I thought you might care to share my knowledge.”

“You’re offering to teach me?” Eadgyth lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

“I expect there are one or two things I might learn from you.” Fulk’s face flushed a darker shade than before. “For example, some women’s troubles may sometimes be beyond my ken…”

“So you’re actually asking
me
to teach
you
?” Eadgyth gave him a glacial smile.

Fulk shifted uncomfortably. “You must know there’s talk about you in the village,” he said, hurriedly changing the subject. “If you come under my tutelage, it would give you a high position in Wiltune.” He leaned toward Eadgyth. “It would also help me. I am so busy with customers I have too little time for mixing up those remedies that my patients seek. What I am offering you, my dear Eadgyth, is—”

“A partnership?”

“No! No, not quite that. After all, I have my reputation to consider.” At the sight of Eadgyth’s ferocious glare, Fulk extracted the yellow kerchief and mopped his brow once more. “I’m offering you a chance to sell your potions through my shop, and I’m asking for your help in the preparation of my own remedies—under my guidance, of course. It would give you a reputable outlet for your medicaments and bring you in a steady income. Of course, I could not put my name to any concoction of yours unless I knew that it was quite sound.”

“And how would you be able to tell?”

The contempt behind Eadgyth’s question was lost on Fulk. “Why…I would need to know all the ingredients, of course,” he blustered.

“And so you would learn my herbal lore under the guise of helping me?”

“You mistake me, mistress. I thought you would be delighted by my offer. It works far more to your advantage than to mine.” Janna noted that Fulk’s condescending tone didn’t quite match the worried expression on his face.

“Delighted by your offer? Delighted to be patronized by a man who knows little but would steal my knowledge while pretending to have my best interests at heart? I think not!” Eadgyth surged to her feet, indicating that Fulk had worn out his welcome. He stayed seated, sweat beading his brow.

“I assure you, Mistress Eadgyth, a business relationship would benefit both of us.”

Eadgyth studied him narrowly while she assessed the worth of his offer. “A business relationship, no. A partnership—perhaps.”

Aghast, Janna stared at her mother. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Eadgyth despised Fulk. How could she bear to contemplate a partnership with such a loathsome toad?

Fulk’s face, already red, now turned a deep crimson. “You believe yourself to be my equal?” He spat the words as if they were bitter gall in his mouth. And yet, Janna noted, he seemed to be considering the idea. She was sure Fulk wasn’t telling them the real reason he’d come knocking on their door so late at night. She wondered what it could be.

“Come with me to see Dame Alice.” The invitation seemed more of a command than a suggestion. “Bring with you one of your nostrums. Let us see if you are as good as people say you are.” His words were measured, but Janna sensed the urgency behind them, and saw it in the fingers that twisted together in barely concealed impatience. So Dame Alice was the reason he was here.

“What sort of nostrum? Is Dame Alice having difficulty birthing her babe?” Eadgyth asked sharply.

“Not at all,” Fulk said proudly. “Thanks to my ministrations, my lady has given birth to a fine son, when it’s common knowledge she’s lost every other child since the birth of her first little boy. That is why the midwife was put off and why my lord Robert summoned me to see my lady through this pregnancy.” He puffed out his chest, swollen with self-importance.

“Why then do you come to see me, Master Fulk?”

Fulk’s eyes slid sideways. He would not look at Eadgyth. “Dame Alice needs a mixture for something of which I have limited experience. Something to stop excessive bleeding after childbirth,” he mumbled.

“Have you massaged her back with goose grease and given her herbs to help her expel the remains of the afterbirth?” A glance at Fulk’s face confirmed that he had no notion what she was talking about.

“I must go to her, and quickly, before an infection sets in. You should have asked for my help at once, Master Fulk, instead of wasting time like this.” Eadgyth jumped to her feet and moved to the sprigs of aromatic herbs hanging from the rafters of the thatched roof. Their spicy fragrance scented the air as she picked what she would need. “Tell me, Master Fulk, what have you done to help Dame Alice since the birth of her child?”

“I have purged my lady and placed a triangle of agate on her forehead, but she continues to bleed,” Fulk confessed. “She is too weak to take nourishment, and she burns with fever. I have tried all that I may to bring her to good health, but to little avail. Reluctantly, mistress, I have had to come to you for help.”