EPISODE 6
CHAPTER 28
Palmer stood on the dockside in a deserted part of the harbor, keen to dispose of the unsavory load he’d carried with Brother Paulus.
In the pale blue of the dusk sky, the red ball of the sun would soon dip from sight. With the finish of daylight came a chill deep enough to freeze a man to death. Unless they were already dead.
“On three,” said Paulus, his thin cheeks ruddy from cold and effort.
“One moment.” Palmer adjusted his hold on the body of Reginald Fitzurse, wrapped tight in an old sack. He carried the heavier, shoulder end, while Paulus staggered under the weight of the feet. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“One, two, three.”
Palmer flung the packaged corpse with all his might while Paulus added his strength too.
It broke the surface of the water with a smaller splash than he’d imagined, then started to sink from sight.
“That should see the end of him,” said Paulus, “and good riddance, I say.”
The object sank from view, with only a few ripples on the quiet surface of the calm black ocean. But on flooded, waterlogged battlefields, the half-rotten bodies of fallen knights would resurface as if rejected by Satan from hell. “What if he floats back up?” said Palmer.
“Not with the stones I secured in there,” said Paulus. “They’ll keep him on the seafloor for all eternity, while the crabs pick over his every bone.”
“No wonder he weighed so much,” said Palmer. “I’m guessing the stones were at my end?”
“’Course. What do you take me for?” Paulus set off back along the dockside, and Palmer fell into step beside him.
“Happen you’ve done this before, eh?” said Palmer.
“What makes you say that?” said Paulus.
“This is a very quiet spot, looks like it hasn’t been used for years. And you knew to weigh a body down in water.”
“Let’s just say you come across all sorts when you’re running a dockside hostel,” said the monk. “Not all of it good. You have to have ways of dealing with things.”
“What kinds of things?” said Palmer, his interest captured by this elderly monk.
Paulus obliged him with a couple of astonishing tales that passed the time of their journey back to the hostel. Night had closed in, and lamps and lanterns lit every window they passed.
Once they arrived, Paulus excused himself on hostel business.
Palmer climbed the stairs to their rooms, a warm glow within him. Eleanor’s knights were defeated. The boat was due to sail in an hour or two, and he still had a couple of days left with Theodosia; she’d be finished with Brother Edward by now. He wouldn’t let anything spoil this last time — it was far too precious. He knocked on the bedroom door, and Edward’s voice replied.
“Come in.”
“Good evening, one and all…” Palmer’s greeting died on his lips.
Edward, Amélie, and Theodosia knelt in a circle, rosaries in hand. But Theodosia was robed as a nun once more. The gray woolen dress served as a habit, and she wore a linen wimple and veil.
“Have you come to join us in prayer, Palmer?” said Edward, with an irritated frown at being interrupted.
Amélie continued with her quiet recitation of prayer, eyes closed, fingers swift from bead to bead.
Palmer’s gaze locked on Theodosia, who dropped her glance in an instant. “No,” he said.
“Hardly a surprise,” said Edward.
The monk’s superior attitude riled him. “I came to ask if you wanted any food. Theodosia?”
She shook her head but didn’t look up.
“Come on,” he said. “You must have an appetite by now.”
“Appetite is no longer an issue, “ said Edward. “The sister is reining back her consumption. Certainly she will have no more meat.”
“I wasn’t asking you,” said Palmer with force. “I asked her. Now, Theodosia — ”
“No, thank you, Sir Palmer.”
Her subdued reply brought him up short. “Benedict,” he said.
“Sir Palmer, as I am Sister Theodosia,” she repeated. “It is proper we should address each other correctly.” Her face showed as pale as the confining wimple that enclosed it and her neck. Her red-rimmed eyes showed recent, many tears.
From the corner of his eye, he noted Edward’s smug expression.
“I don’t know what nonsense Edward’s been filling your head with,” he said. “But we don’t need formal names.” He waited for a rebuff from Edward, but none came. Instead, it came from Theodosia.
“True repentance is not nonsense, Sir Palmer,” she said. “At least I can say I am a sinner, and can spend my life seeking forgiveness. You too need to do the same, or your soul will be damned for all eternity.”