Henry would be bound to send his real wife and daughter away, hide them again from the world. What claim would he, Benedict Palmer, ever have over her?
He knew the answer as well as his own name. None. He was a jobbing knight, a lowborn cur with no power, no influence. Unlike the woman he held in his arms. Fate mocked him, as always. Why couldn’t she have been the daughter of a swineherd or a farmer? Then he might have had a chance. But had she been out in the world, a woman as beautiful as she would have been taken years before.
She stirred and muttered in her sleep.
No matter how much he wanted to hold her here, stay here forever, he had to wake her. He kissed the back of her neck, caressed her hip harder, and brought her slowly to wakefulness.
“Mmm.” She stirred in his arms. “Let me go, Benedict. I can hardly breathe.”
He loosed his hold, though his heart felt it would break. “Time to go back to your room.” Let her go? He’d have to. Of course he would. It was his duty. For king and country.
CHAPTER 25
“You have more color in your cheeks this morning, Sister Theodosia.” Brother Edward entered their room and gave an approving nod to Amélie. “Sleep has refreshed her.”
“Indeed, Brother,” said Amélie from her seat by the window.
Theodosia carried on with tidying her bed. The bed she’d crept back into a few short hours ago. Fearful that Edward might read her embarrassment at her wanton behavior, she was grateful that the distraction helped her to hide her face.
“I too feel the better of it,” said Amélie. “I think my soul could finally rest knowing you were safe from those men, my blessed.”
Task finished, Theodosia stood up.
Her mother smiled at her with satisfaction.
She smiled in return, but guilt gnawed at her conscience. She doubted if her mother would view her behavior last night as safe. At all.
Edward joined her mother to stand at the window. “God be praised for this morn. We may have no sunlight, but such high, dense clouds calm the seas. We are blessed for our passage to France tonight. It should be easy and swift. The Lord smiles on us, does he not, Sister Theodosia?”
“Yes, Brother.”
“Methinks Sir Palmer intends to sleep the day out.” Edward’s words, pleasant in their delivery, were accompanied by a shrewd glance at Theodosia.
Oh, dear God, he knew. He always knew when she’d sinned, even in her thoughts.
Footsteps sounded from the corridor, and Benedict came in fully dressed, his dark hair silvery-damp with droplets of water. “Morning, all.”
His glance didn’t linger upon her, for which she was profoundly grateful. If it had, she’d have reddened worse than if she’d spent a day in the fierce summer sun.
“I’ve wronged you, Palmer,” said Edward. “I’ve just accused you of being a slugabed, yet your appearance tells you’ve been out and about.”
“I went to see if there might be any problems with our sailing tonight,” said Benedict. “None. The sea’s like a millpond.” He rubbed his hands together and blew on them. “Still powerful cold, mind. A bit of sleet fell for a time, but an old sailor told me it wouldn’t be for long. He says clear skies and no wind tonight.”
Edward grinned broadly. “My thoughts too. Now, Palmer, I suggest we leave these ladies to prepare for our journey and our visit. You, sir, need to come with me to buy you and Sister Theodosia a set of new clothing. You cannot appear before His Grace looking like ragbags.”
Benedict’s mouth tightened. “I’m afraid I’ve no means to buy any, Brother Edward. Neither has Theodosia.” He gave Theodosia the first eye contact he’d made since he entered.
“No need to worry about such things,” said Edward.
“No, indeed,” said Amélie. “Brother Edward and I are well looked after by Mother Church. It is only fitting we should provide for you.”
“Thank you, Mama, Brother Edward,” said Theodosia. “But I am sure this dress can be cleaned and repaired.” She looked down at Gwen’s chestnut dress, ragged and stained but the only thing she possessed.
“Indeed it can, for there will be no waste.” said Amélie. “But you still need something more fitting.”
“I agree.” Edward picked up his cloak. “Come, Palmer. The sooner we’re gone, the sooner we’re back.”
Benedict followed with no look to Theodosia as he closed the door on his way out.
Her mother gestured to her. “Let me see that dress.”
She walked over to her mother and stood in front of her.
Amélie tutted as she leaned forward to examine it in the window’s light. “Turn, slowly, so I can see how much there is to do.”
As Theodosia did so, she tutted again. “What have you been doing?”
Running. Riding. Climbing. Fighting. How could she explain to Mama what she’d done? “Our journey was at times a great trial, Mama, with many hardships.”
Amélie looked up at her daughter’s somber tone, and the disapproving lines of her face softened in sympathy. “Of course, my blessed. It must have been dreadful for you. You will be keen to be restored to a godly life.”
Theodosia opened her mouth to concur, then closed it again. She merely nodded, which seemed to satisfy her mother.
Amélie rummaged in her pocket and drew out a spool of thread speared through with a long sewing needle. “I only pray I have enough thread.”
Dreadful. There were many, many times over the last weeks when Theodosia would have agreed wholeheartedly. The terrible deaths she’d witnessed. The sheer, awful terror of being at the hands of Fitzurse and his monstrous companions. But there had been other times that had not been dreadful at all, when being out in the world had been exciting, exhilarating. Riding through snow-topped forests, so beautiful they made her heart ache. The scent of dawn air, unspoiled by humankind. The feel of Quercus’s power beneath her as she learned to control him.
And Benedict. The way he moved, the way he ran. The effortless strength of his broad shoulders. The force of his kisses, the gentleness of his caresses, last night…
A knock sounded at the closed door.
“Come in!” said Amélie. “Why, Lae — Theodosia, you started so then. You see? You are still shaken by your suffering.”
“I am fine, Mama.” Theodosia went to the door, cheeks warm at her straying thoughts. She opened it to Brother Paulus.
The monk held two metal buckets, breathless with his burden. “Excuse me, ladies. I’ve near finished doing the floors. Your room is the last.”
“I’m afraid you will have to excuse us a while longer,” called Amélie. “We have sewing to do, and I do not want to lose the daylight. Pray leave us.”
The monk’s thin lips set in irritation, but he turned to make his way back down the landing to the long flight of stairs. Lines stood out his scrawny hands with the weight of the buckets.
“Why not leave those, Brother?” said Theodosia. “Then you will not have to carry them all the way back up again.”
He turned back and came in through the door with slow steps.
Her mother wore the dawn of a frown that neither he nor Theodosia had followed her instructions, but Theodosia paid her no heed. One of the buckets was half full of coarse sand, the other with an amber liquid. She was sure she could not have carried such a burden up the flights of narrow stairs, let alone the slight, elderly brother.
Brother Paulus made for the far corner next to the window.
Her mother could no longer contain herself. “Just leave them, Brother. They will not be in the way.”
The monk carried on till he reached the corner, then plunked the buckets down on the floor with a grunt. Hands free of the weight, he rubbed them together. “That one’s lye.” He nodded to the liquid. “I’m not leaving that anywhere folk could trip on it.” He stamped out without waiting for a reply, closing the door with an extravagant slam.
“How rude.” Amélie raised her eyebrows as she concentrated on threading her needle
. “Men of the church are supposed to recognize what a privilege it is to serve one’s fellow man.”
“Perhaps it is women he doesn’t like to serve, Mama,” said Theodosia.
Her mother sniffed. “Most impious.” She stood up from her seat. “Now come, please. I shall start with tacking up the hem.”
Theodosia went to stand before her, pushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear as she did so. She caught Benedict’s scent from her hand and cast her mother a guilty glance. Mama must surely be able to pick up on it. But no. Her mother bent to her work at the dress hem, exclaiming at the state of it all.
A brisk knock came at the door.
Amélie straightened up with a tut. “Oh, what does that Paulus want now?”
Moving to the door, Theodosia tried to placate her. “I am sure he has good reason.” Prepared with a patient smile, she raised the stiff metal hasp and opened the door.
Sir Reginald Fitzurse stood there, drawn sword in hand. “Good day, Sister.”
♦ ♦ ♦
“I’ve seen a number of shops and stalls that sell clothing.” Brother Edward cut a path in front of Palmer through the bustling streets, with people quick to defer to his status as a man of God. “It shouldn’t take us long to get there, and they will have wide choice.”
“I’m not bothered for myself,” said Palmer. “I only need to look passable. But I want to get something special for Theodosia.”
“Don’t you mean Sister Theodosia?” Edward’s question carried disapproval.
“Of course, yes. It’s hard to go back to calling her that after weeks of using her name only.”
“Then get used to it, Palmer. For a sister is what she is. I must say, it gave me quite a shock to see her in a laywoman’s clothes. I hardly recognized her. They made her appear something else, did they not? More worldly, I would say, which worries me greatly.”
“God bless you, Brother.” A toothless, filthy woman limped up to Edward and pressed something into his hand.
Palmer offered up his own thanks for the woman’s interruption. The time he’d spent with Theodosia last night had been a marvel for him, but Brother Edward would have a very different view. It wasn’t a view Palmer would want to debate, given the still-tender bruise on his jaw.
Edward raised his hand in a quick blessing, and the woman crossed herself with a deep bow.
As she hurried on her way, Palmer drew alongside Edward. “What was that about?”
“Alms,” replied the monk. He opened up his palm to show a tiny, bent coin. “It happens all the time in public. People see my robes, remember their sins, then give for the poor in the hopes it’ll help.” He put the coin in a leather pouch attached to his belt. “It breaks my heart to take it.”
“Then why didn’t you give it back?”
“Do you jest, Palmer?”
“No,” said Palmer.
“Ah. Then your answer comes from pure ignorance, not rudeness.”
Who did this man of the cloth think he was? “With respect to you, Brother — ”
“Oh, keep your high horse for going into battle, Palmer. You’re a fighting sinner. How could you know?” He stopped Palmer’s words with a raised hand. “If I refused that woman’s offering, she would be cut to the quick. By giving me what little she has to help the poor, she has absolute faith that her reward will be in Paradise. She is, in effect, paying for eternal life. Who am I to refuse that?”
Palmer gave a shrug of his shoulders. “I’d let the poor have the money. Or let that poor wretch keep hers. Either way, let God decide their eternal fate.”
“With such unholy thoughts, I’m sure he’s deciding yours, Palmer. Well, here we are.” Edward gave a wide gesture to the street before them. “I’m sure we can find what we need without too much trouble.”
Shops and stalls, crowded with hats, cloaks, skirts, breeches. Some luxurious, some new. Some that had seen better days but were still serviceable. Palmer would make a quick choice for himself.
Then take his time to choose something beautiful for his beautiful Theodosia.
♦ ♦ ♦
Theodosia opened her mouth to scream.
The metal sword point bit against her throat in one swift movement.
“One sound,” Fitzurse’s blue eyes bored into hers, “and I will carve you in twain. Understood?”
She backed into the room, chin tilted back so far she thought her neck might break.
Fitzurse pressed harder with the point of his steel. Any second now, he’d carve through her skin.
“You ruffian. Unhand my daughter!”
She couldn’t turn her head to see her mother. “Mama, hush. Please.” It came out as a croak from her half-shut lips.
Fitzurse eased the door closed with his free hand and slid the bolt home. “I’d advise you to listen to your daughter, madam. Otherwise I will slay her where she stands.”
“He means it, Mama. I promise you.”
Terrified whimpers came from Amélie.
“Stay where you are, woman.” He flicked his gaze to Amélie, then back to Theodosia again. “Make your way over to your mother. Slowly, and facing me.”
She did as he ordered, eyes transfixed on the brutal weapon pushing against her throat. One push, one swing, and her head would be off, just like the wolf’s. Or would he crush her skull like Becket’s, grind her brains into the floor as Mama watched, then take her too?
He released the sword from her flesh as Amélie grabbed her hand.
“Oh, my blessed.”
She met her mother’s petrified gaze out of the corner of her eye as they huddled together, as if the closeness of their bodies could provide protection.
“Finally,” he said. “The two I seek.”
“Leave us be,” said Theodosia, mouth dry. “Any minute now, Sir Palmer will be back here. With Brother Edward.”
“No, they won’t,” said Fitzurse. “They’re headed off to the opposite end of the docks. I saw them go myself.” His lips drew into a smile. “My, my, you’re very pale, Sister Theodosia. In fact, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“You could not have survived that rock fall,” she said. “I saw you go under.”
“The fall le Bret set off?”
She nodded.
He took a step forward and grabbed a handful of her hair. She screamed as he gave it a savage twist.
“You mean the fall that killed le Bret?” His voice didn’t match his furious actions. He sounded calm, in control.
“No one would have died if you’d left us in — ”
Another vicious twist stopped her words as she screamed again. “I said to be quiet, Theodosia.” His blade was back to her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll be quiet, I promise.”
“Good girl.” He removed his sword once more and pulled his hand from her hair so roughly that some of the roots pinged out.
Theodosia’s quick glance showed Amélie so colorless as to be ready to pass out in terror.
“Now, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, le Bret was killed by the rocks. Most unfortunate. One of them caved his head right in.” He turned his sword over and brought the handle to Theodosia’s temple. “Right in.” He rapped it against her head. Hard.
She caught back a cry with a bite of her lips but would not drop her gaze from his blue-eyed one.
“Very good.” Fitzurse nodded in approval. “But the unfortunate le Bret, head cracked like an egg, but no matter, fell in such a way that his lifeless body provided a shield for me from the worst of the fall. Yes, it took me an age to force my way out. Yes, I was badly bruised. But I was very much alive. Now here I am, come to finish my mission.”
His words presented a ray of hope. “Your mission? My mother and I know something that bears on your mission. You do not have all the facts, don’t know something of the greatest importance. Listen, please, listen. I beg you.” Her words stumbled over each other in her haste to get them out.
“
Theodosia, we cannot tell this man what we spoke of earlier.” Amélie’s voice had the edge of panic.
“We can, of course we can.” She clasped her hands, the better to implore Fitzurse. “The murder of Thomas Becket was a terrible act. But we all understand. You were on a mission from King Henry himself to silence the Archbishop because of the secret he held about my mother and me.”
“Go on.” Fitzurse appeared curious. Interested.
“But that silence, it shouldn’t have been murder, it should have been an arrest. Things went wrong, badly wrong, and Thomas died. King Henry has always been our protector, but he’d put faith in Thomas to aid in that protection. It had always worked, hadn’t it, Mama?”
“Theodosia. Stop. Now.”
She ignored her mother and carried on, Fitzurse still rapt. Still with his sword ready.
“But when Thomas and the King quarreled, Henry wanted us back under his supervision, and control over Thomas to keep his secret.”
“What secret would that be?” said Fitzurse.
“Us!” Theodosia burst out. “Mama is Henry’s true wife, and I am his daughter. All he wanted was to keep us safe. By a terrible, terrible sequence of events, Thomas is dead, and three of your companions. Can you not see, Sir Fitzurse? We are all on the side of the King.”
“Indeed I see,” said Fitzurse with a slow nod.
She’d done it. Theodosia took a rasping breath.
“I see,” continued Fitzurse, with a cold, suppressed smile, “that you have absolutely no idea what mission my knights and I are on.”
“What?” Theodosia’s gasp was echoed by her mother.
His look hardened. “You think it’s to keep you safe? You, my dear, can think again.”
E. M. Powell Page 26
