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The Fifth Knight(105)

By:E. M. Powell


“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.”