The Fifth Knight(106)
“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.”
The monk reentered and looked her up and down with a nod of unsmiling satisfaction. “Your first step on the journey to redemption.” He made his way over to the bed and picked up the discarded linen underskirts. He removed a length with a cut of his razor. “Come here.”
She stood before him and he placed the white cloth across her forehead, then looped it round the back of her head. He made quick work of wrapping her head, leaving her face exposed. Her neck followed, with the material tighter and tighter as he secured each layer.
“Can you loosen it a little, Brother?” she said.
He shook his head. “Looseness is what brought you to this sorry state. You need to be brought back, mind, body, and soul.” He picked up the length of string from the bed and brought it round her waist. With a low grunt of effort, he secured it tight. “Discipline is never pleasant and at the time may seem painful. But for those trained by it, it yields a harvest of peace.”
Theodosia bit her lip. The tight makeshift belt made the wool of her dress dig right into her skin.
Edward picked up the last section of linen and arranged it atop her wimple as a makeshift veil. He took a step back from her to consider his handiwork and smiled at the result. “You are returned as an anchoress, at least to the eye. We have redeemed your body as we will redeem your soul. Now kneel to make your act of contrition and to receive absolution.”
Theodosia did as Edward instructed. The discomfort of her garments became even more apparent if she had to move. Her neck had been wrapped so tightly, she could hardly breathe when she tried to bow her head. The wool scraped against the soft skin of her breasts, and she could imagine the sensation when her new habit enfolded her, sewn through with a hundred sharps. But worse than the physical discomfort was the sense of humiliation in how she was dressed, although she was perfectly modest to an outside observer. Oh, Brother Edward had taught her well of the foolishness of bodies and bodily things.
Edward raised his right hand to make the sign of the cross. “One more thing. From now until he leaves us for good, Sir Palmer is to be addressed as Sir Palmer. No more Benedict or any other sinful familiarity. The slide to ruin is speedy, as you have experienced firsthand. There is no other remedy but flight from temptation. And believe me, Palmer is the devil’s own instrument of that temptation. He must be dead to you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Brother.”
He began the words of absolution, a sign to Theodosia that God had forgiven her sins.
No more Benedict. Of course Brother Edward was right. She’d been wrong. But it didn’t stop her heart from breaking.
Edward concluded and nodded for her to start her act of contrition.
“Oh my God, I am heartily sorry…” Sobs broke over her words, and she wept her way through the prayer.
“That’s it, my child. Repent before God.”
But she wasn’t crying to God. She cried for her foolish, impossible, stupid love for a sinful, misguided man. A man that forevermore would have to be a distant stranger to her. She would save her soul, do whatever she had to. Though her heart would shatter as she did so.