E. M. Powell (35 page)

“Fitzurse?” Palmer’s repeating of the name meant nothing. His only care was for Theodosia.

Thank the Almighty.
She stood in the room, clung to her mother, both women ashen-faced. At their feet lay the still body of Fitzurse. Flat on his back, with his arms flung out on either side, blood pooled beneath him from his injured hands and abdomen. His face was a blistered mess.

Palmer raised his gaze back to Theodosia’s. Her gray eyes held the horror of one who has taken a life for the first time.

“Are you all right?” His own feeble question annoyed him.

Theodosia’s colorless lips tried to form words, but none emerged.

Amélie replied instead. “We’re not harmed, if that’s what you mean.”

“Thank the Lord for something,” said Edward. “But how has Fitzurse come to this terrible end?” He addressed Theodosia. “You told me he’d died.”

“I was there, too, Brother,” said Palmer. “I would have sworn on my own life he’d been killed.”

Theodosia swallowed and managed a low whisper. “He said le Bret’s body had protected him in the rock fall. Then he tracked us down, and I murdered him with his sword.” Her voice broke, and silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

“But his face?” Edward’s mouth drew down in disgust.

Theodosia swallowed again. “He was about to…to cut Mama’s head off. I had to stop him. Br-brother Paulus had left a bucket of lye for the floor.”

Palmer could kiss her for her quick wits, quick as his — nay, quicker — in this deed. And what a great deed.

But Edward crossed himself, his green eyes stern. “You have committed a mortal sin, Sister. Your soul is in terrible peril. It’s vital you make your confession. At once.”

She nodded but still held her mother tight. “He was trying to kill us. I had to act.”

“Couldn’t you have tried to reason with him?” said Edward.

“Even if it meant revealing your secret?” Palmer asked his question of Amélie.

Amélie’s mouth hardened into a thin line. “Theodosia tried. Told him all about Henry. But he knew already. He wasn’t sent by my Henry. He was sent by that she-wolf he’s supposedly married to.”

“Eleanor?” said Edward.

“She’d only recently found out about my daughter and me,” said Amélie. She locked her gaze on Palmer. “Four knights to act on her behalf, and the fifth as her champion.”

Edward gave an angry exclamation and turned to Palmer.

Heat rose in Palmer’s face. “You don’t think I — ”

“No, we don’t,” said Theodosia. “Fitzurse told us you knew nothing of the true mission.”

“What else did he reveal?” said Edward, his eye still on Palmer.

“Only that Eleanor plots against the King,” said Amélie, “and is using Becket’s murder to turn the whole country against him.”

Edward let out a long, long breath. “Then the Lord be praised we’ll be with the King soon, and can tell him the truth about the sins and crimes committed in his name.” He wrinkled his nose at Fitzurse’s corpse. “I’ll fetch Brother Paulus. We need this dealt with, and dealt with swiftly.” He hurried out to the landing. “Paulus! Get up here at once!”

“Theodosia, you did what had to be done,” said Palmer, keen to give her some scrap of comfort. “No one could blame you for your actions.”

Theodosia looked down at the body and shuddered in revulsion. “God will. Brother Edward’s right. I have committed a mortal sin. I have condemned my soul to eternal damnation.” She wrung her hands in anguish. “I am the worst kind of sinner. I have to confess. At once. And penance, I have to do penance. For months. No, years.”

“You didn’t set out to kill anybody,” said Palmer. “You were trying to save your life, your mother’s life.”

“Sir knight, while my daughter showed great fortitude in defending our lives, she has nonetheless put the gravest of marks on her soul,” said Amélie. “She must make her confession as a matter of urgency. Otherwise she runs the risk of condemning her soul to hell for all eternity.”

“The only one going to hell is him,” said Palmer. The woman’s refusal to comfort Theodosia with reason enraged him.

Voices came from the door, cutting him off. He looked around to see Edward enter with Brother Paulus.

The elderly hostel monk stopped dead and crossed himself with determined vigor. “Who is that poor wretch?”

“A violent vagabond,” said Edward. “He attacked the two sisters here when Palmer and I were at the market, and during his attack, he fell on his own sword.”

Brother Paulus looked over the scene and turned to Edward with raised eyebrows. “I can’t see how that happened.” He sniffed the air. “For a start, his face is burned to naught with my lye. Moreover, his hands are cut. From trying to pull the sword out.” His lips pursed and made his thin face even sharper. “I think you need to call the constable, Brother Edward. I’m not sure the women’s account is true.”

Palmer read Theodosia and Amélie’s panic. He shared their fear. Bringing in the law could cost them their freedom, maybe even their lives.

“There will be no constable, Brother Paulus,” said Edward.

“I’m in charge of this establishment,” said Paulus, “and I’m saying it’s necessary.”

Palmer’s look went to Edward. Any inquiry, even if they walked free, would mean missing their sailing. They couldn’t afford that, now they knew the ferocious Eleanor was behind this terrible chain of events. They needed to get to Henry, and fast. “Let the brother know a bit more,” he urged.

“Brother Paulus, under normal circumstances I would agree with you,” said Edward. “But believe me, there is more to this than you can possibly imagine.” He gestured to Fitzurse. “What you see here is a man who was involved in the murder of the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

“Never.” Brother Paulus gave the corpse a look of open loathing.

“Indeed he was,” said Edward. “I’m afraid I can tell you no more. As you’ll appreciate, it’s a matter of great delicacy.”

“Then I’ll see to him,” said Paulus, “and he won’t be receiving the blessing of hallowed ground neither.”

“Thank you, Brother.” Edward’s relieved glance met Palmer’s. “Now, Sir Palmer, can you help the good brother here?”

Palmer nodded. Disposing of Fitzurse for good would be no sorry task for him.

“Sister Theodosia, while they do that, I believe you have a confession to make?” Edward extended a hand to usher her to his room.

“Go, my blessed.” Amélie kissed her on the cheek and loosed her hold.

As Palmer bent to assist Paulus in lifting the corpse, Theodosia walked past him to follow Edward, head bowed.

“You acted bravely, Theodosia,” said Palmer. “Like a knight.”

But she didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, she walked out after Edward, shoulders bowed in sorrow, without a backward glance.

♦ ♦ ♦

“
In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.
Amen.” Sat on the side of his bed in his room, Brother Edward crossed himself with the familiar gesture.

Knelt before him on the hard wooden floor, Theodosia also made the sign of the cross. The familiar gesture felt so odd in the strangeness of this place. She joined her hands and bent her head to them. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…” She paused to work it out. So much had happened, it felt like a thousand years. “It has been…been...” Dear God, she didn’t know. For the first time ever. “A long time since my last confession.”

“What sins have you committed in that time?”

“I have committed mortal sin.” She knotted her fingers tightly together.

“Tell me, my child.”

May the Lord bless Brother Edward. It mattered not that they held this sacrament in a strange room, away from the church, that she was a sinner. He was there for her useless, sinful soul, to bring her back to God, to everything she was promised to. “I have killed a man. Taken his life from him.”

“The gravest of sins, Sister.” His voice was steady, measured.

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry, so very, very sorry. I will never, ever commit such a deed again, even if my life were to depend on it.”

“Did you intend to commit that sin?”

“No, I did not. It was the only way to protect those I love.”

“Those?”

What had she said? A flush stole across her face and neck. Edward would have a perfect view of her embarrassment as she knelt before him in this immodest dress. “My mother.”

“And?”

The flush grew warmer.

“Remember, you are talking to God. He sees what’s in your heart.”

“And Sir Palmer,” she whispered.

“You have love for a man? A fighting man, a godless murderer?”

God knew her heart. So did Edward, it seemed. “Yes.” She swallowed hard. “And I have another mortal sin to confess.”

“Another?” Surprise tinged his voice. “Go on.”

“I broke my vow of chastity. With Sir Palmer. Last night.”

She tensed, waiting for his livid reaction.

Instead, Edward gave a long sigh. “Oh, my child, my child. You really did turn away from God, didn’t you?”

Theodosia risked a glance up.

Edward’s face held no anger, only a deep disappointment.

“Yes, I did.”

“As soon as you did, you allowed the serpent of evil to whisper in your ear, just as he did to Eve in God’s own garden.”

She nodded, unable to speak with the lump of tears and regret gathered in her throat.

“Tempted you with lust, with Palmer a willing companion in that sin.” He sighed once more. “The taking of a man’s life the next day, again with wickedness learned from Palmer and his murdering ways. Mortal sin followed by mortal sin.” Edward thumped his fist on his knee for emphasis. “Do you not see?”

“I do, Brother, I do. I beg the Almighty for His forgiveness, though I deserve to burn for all eternity through my sinfulness.”

“The climb back to holiness will be a steep, rocky one. Your penance has to be severe.”

Punishment meant at least hope of redemption — she wasn’t completely damned.
Praise God.
“I deserve it. I will atone for what I have done.”

Edward sat in silence for a few moments. “Then your penance is this. You will not eat or drink for one entire day a week, from Lauds of one day to Lauds of the next. For the night in between, you will not sleep. You will instead pray the rosary all night. That is for taking the life of Sir Reginald Fitzurse.”

“I will try with all my heart, Brother.”

“You will do more than try, Sister.” His tone hardened. “You will succeed. If there are any failures, you will start afresh the next night, or the next day, until you do succeed. This will be your path from now till the day you die. Do I make myself clear?”

She risked a glance up. Edward’s green eyes held no warmth or compassion. But who was she to think she could deserve any? She dropped her head once more, with her resolve to do a perfect penance set like stone.

“And for your fornication with Sir Palmer, for your breaking of one of your sacred vows.” Edward bent down to reach for a leather satchel stowed under the bed. “This first.”

She looked up to see him stood over her with a flat-bladed razor in his right hand. Her mouth dried. She knew what was coming.

“Your hair,” he said. “A reminder of the day you took your vows. When the razor of God removed your unsightly hair, that you would be more pleasing in his presence. Hold still.”

Theodosia closed her eyes as she felt the pressure of the metal against her skull. This shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t matter at all. Her head would soon be concealed beneath her wimple and veil again. But tears pooled in her eyes, streamed down her face.

“Your sorrow reveals your soul’s repentance, as it should.” Edward worked fast and sure, with each slide of the blade chopping a hefty clump from her skull.

Her shorn hair tickled her face and shoulders, the dry shave a painful rasp. But it was what she deserved. It had to be. Fornication. That’s what she’d done. Benedict’s strong hands, his lips, his touch…Oh, dear God, here came the impure thoughts again.
Oh, please, Lord. Forgive me.

“Done,” said the monk.

She opened her eyes, the dark-blonde tendrils of her hair fallen around her.

“And the rest of the penance for Sir Palmer.”

Her spirit quailed as she met Edward’s gaze. There was more?

The monk patted a string-tied bundle. “This will have to suffice before you get your new habit.” He sliced open the string with the razor, then held a hand up and murmured a blessing over the folded garment. “This is at least a holy garment now.” His mouth turned down in disapproval. “Unlike that immodest frock you wear. Get rid of it, cast it off as you do your sin.”

“Yes, Brother,” she whispered.

He went to step outside. “All of it, do you hear me? You will wear only the coarse wool I have provided. Your nakedness beneath will be a constant reminder of your lustful use of your body.”

Theodosia opened her mouth to appeal her judgment, but Edward cut across her.

“By all that’s holy, still you argue. Do as you are told. When you are back with the church, you shall have a fresh habit.”

A new sacred garment, one to replace the one Benedict had torn from her. A new beginning.

But Edward went on. “Your new habit will have barbs sewn inside. It will be a constant torment against your flesh, flesh that has sinned so abominably. Lust is the scorpion with the tail of poisonous lechery, so you should suffer its constant sting for the rest of your days.”

No.
She dropped her head into her hands.

“I’m glad to see you start to realize your wrongs. Now get changed.” He went out of the door and closed it behind him.

With hands that shook, Theodosia ran her palms over her newly shaven scalp. The prickly sensation sickened her enough; at least she couldn’t see how dreadful she must look. Not that it mattered. At all.

She took off Gwen’s torn dress with an unexpected grief. Then the shift, the shift she’d undone for Benedict’s touch, the petticoats. Her heart wept — she had to stop it.

She unfolded the dress Edward had blessed. Made of wiry wool the color of charcoal, it had the stale, horrid smell of another’s unwashed flesh. She took a deep breath and pulled it over her head. It slid down her body, a shapeless, malodorous, uncomfortable sack. No matter. Her physical adornment, her joy in her body, was in the past. “I am ready, Brother Edward.”