Blood Oath: The Janna Chronicles 1 by Felicity Pulman Page A

seen with her own eyes what had gone amiss, perhaps she might have been able to prevent her death.
    Dry-eyed, numb with grief, Janna raised her head and looked about her. The smell of vomit assailed her nostrils. Now she noticed traces of foul matter down the front of her mother’s kirtle. Beside the straw pallet lay a basin of stained water and a cloth. Someone, then, had cared enough to wash her mother’s face, and try to help. Janna glanced around, catching the gaze of a young woman standing beside Dame Alice’s bed. The girl’s face was deathly pale. She looked strained and ill at ease. She knows, Janna thought. She knows my mother is dead. The girl colored a delicate pink under Janna’s gaze. She turned away and murmured something to the man at her side. Janna bobbed a hasty curtsy as he cast an appraising glance over her. “Pray see to the wortwyf , Master Fulk,” he said curtly.
    “Of course, my lord Robert. Right away.” Fulk had been bending over Dame Alice, encouraging her to sup a little broth, but now he straightened obediently and came into the alcove. He peered over Janna’s shoulder to look at Eadgyth. “The wortwyf is dead,” he confirmed, and turned to Janna. “I am sorry for your loss.” His face was tight and cold, yet there was a gleam of triumph in his eyes. With a cursory nod, he swaggered back to Dame Alice’s bedside and picked up the bowl of broth.
    Cold fury seized Janna. Only last night her mother had saved Fulk’s skin, and his reputation. Now, when she was most in need, his concern was all for his wealthy patron. “You claim to have such great knowledge of the art of healing, Master Fulk,” she snapped, springing to her feet to face him. “Surely you could have done something to help my mother, to save her life!” Her voice choked on the last word.
    Fulk made no reply. He turned his back on Janna and lifted a spoon of broth to Dame Alice’s mouth. She pinched her lips together and turned her head away. Fulk hesitated, then put the bowl down and, instead, picked up the lady’s hand and felt the pulse at her wrist.
    “You might pretend you don’t care about my mother, but last night you were so desperate for help you offered to make her a partner in your shop!” Janna hissed.
    “The girl is hysterical. Ignore her.” He gave Dame Alice’s hand a reassuring pat.
    “Tell me what happened to my mother! How did she die?”
    “I expect she took one of her own foul potions.” Fulk carefully rested his patient’s hand on the fine linen bed sheet. “It is lucky for you, my lady, that I came in time,” he told Dame Alice. “You, too, might have suffered the same fate but for my intervention.”
    “Don’t be absurd!” Dame Alice raised herself up against the bolster and beckoned Janna forward. “I am sorry that you did not get here in time to save your mother,” she said. Her voice was high; she sounded somewhat peevish as she continued, “Eadgyth spoke highly of you. I had hoped you might be able to help her.”
    Janna was less than flattered by the implied compliment. She was beginning to understand that Dame Alice had an entirely selfish reason for summoning her so urgently. “Fulk was here!” she retorted. “Why didn’t you ask him to save my mother?”
    “Keep a civil tongue in your head, girl,” Robert warned. “I bade Master Fulk leave his practice in Wiltune to tend my wife; I didn’t ask for your mother.” He clicked his fingers, beckoning one of Dame Alice’s attendants to his side. It was the young woman Janna had noticed earlier. She stepped forward and stood with bowed head before him. “Ask the steward to arrange for a litter to carry the wortwyf down to the church at Berford.”
    The girl bobbed her head and hastened from the bedchamber.
    Robert walked back to his wife’s bedside and bent to kiss her cheek. “Try not to upset yourself, Alice,” he murmured. “For the sake of our child, you must stay calm and recover your health.”
    Unsure