The Fifth Knight(10)

Edward gave an urgent gesture. “Come, Sister Theodosia.”

With her chest straining, he hurried her up the long stone nave as yells and thumps came from the cloister door that opened onto the northwest transept. “Brother Edward, we are going toward the intruders, not away from them.”

He stopped before the altar of Our Lady, tendrils of smoke trailing from the quenched candles.

“Step over the rail,” said Edward.

“They will see us immediately,” she gasped. “These shadows make weak concealment.” Sweat dampened her whole body. “My cell, I should go back to my cell. Please, Brother.”

A crescendo of thuds echoed from the door.

“Edward,” said Becket, “you have but moments left.” He walked past them up the nave.

“My lord Becket, where are you going?” she asked.

He did not turn his head.

She looked back at Brother Edward. “Where is he going?”

The monk responded by clearing the low metal rail in one high step. “No time to argue. Please trust me.” He dropped to his knees before Mary’s statue on its high plinth.

Bewildered, Theodosia looked from his bowed shoulders to the benign stone face of the Queen of Heaven, surrounded by a crown of stars. Was the monk hoping Mary would grant a miracle? Theodosia turned at the sound of splintering wood, and her throat tightened again. A split ran the length of the door, and an axehead gleamed through.

“Stop where you are!”

“They’re coming in.” She appealed to Brother Edward: “My cell, Brother. We have to hide. Quickly!”

The monk ignored her. His fingers beat out a sharp tattoo as he rapped the base of the carved wooden altar.

“Hurry, Edward,” came Becket’s steady order, steady as his stride as he neared the transept steps.

“I have it, my lord,” said Edward.

With a sharp click, a large section of the altar front opened out, revealing a space underneath.

Edward moved quickly inside and gestured for her to follow him.

The cloister door’s planks squealed in protest as the axe wrenched free for another blow.

Theodosia hitched herself up onto the altar rails and swung her legs over. She scrambled into the confined space with Brother Edward.

He swung the wooden panel shut. “Forgive my unseemly closeness, Sister,” he said, his whisper close to her ear. “I do not touch against you with any intent.”

She nodded, subduing her ragged breathing with her palms folded across her mouth. The altar front had several small holes that formed the leaves and flowers of its intricate carving. Her view was of the transept, the only pool of light that remained in the dark cathedral.

Becket climbed the short flight of wide stone steps up onto it and faced where the crashes at the door had quickened, grown louder. His stately figure radiated calm as he clasped his hands before him.

Then he raised his voice over the din. “Away, you cowards. A church is not a castle.”

The lofty stone arches resounded with the final collapse of the door, followed by a terrible roar.

“Where is Thomas the traitor?”





CHAPTER 3

Palmer and his fellow knights joined Fitzurse’s charge through to the cathedral. A solitary tall figure stood at the far side of the transept. Becket. Two yard-long church candles in waist-high carved holders lit the stone-floored space and made curved shadows of the large pillars behind the Archbishop. The rest of the huge church was in darkness.

Palmer had his sword raised and ready, and a quick glance told him the other knights’ weapons were ready too.

Hands joined in front of him, Becket addressed Fitzurse without a flinch. “Here I am. No traitor, but archbishop and priest of God.”

Fitzurse motioned that his knights should fan out around the transept, form a circle from which Becket could not break free. Palmer followed the order, watching the Archbishop for any sudden moves after his agile speed with the fire.

Fitzurse stood directly opposite Becket. “Priest of God, eh? You must be aware, then, that it is a sin to tell a lie.”

De Morville snickered.

Becket did not dignify Fitzurse with a reply.

The knight shifted his grip on his axe. “I have asked you once. Where are they?”

Becket spread his hands. “You see me here alone. Alone I am. They’re gone, Fitzurse. Gone where you will never find them.” He joined his hands together again.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” said Fitzurse. He looked around. “Palmer, go to the back left corner, along from the main doors. The anchoress’s cell is there. Get her out of it by any means you can.”

♦ ♦ ♦

The anchoress? Theodosia crushed her hands harder against her mouth and bit down on her fingers to stop her scream. She shot a stunned glance at Edward in the shadows of their flimsy hiding place.