She tried to call to him, to warn him of the blade. But the monk squeezed her neck tighter.
“Hell too hot for you, Palmer?” said Edward.
“Not a bit,” said Benedict. He jumped from the planks and landed a few strides away. “I came to take you with me. Now, I said let her go.”
“Don’t presume to issue orders to me,” said Edward. He raised the blade to Theodosia’s eye level. “I shall slit her throat first, then yours. You can watch each other bleed to death.” He readjusted his grip on the blade.
“Theodosia!”
Her glance flew to Benedict as the monk paused, distracted.
“Your reading?” said Benedict.
She understood.
“Babbling oaf.” Edward pulled his hand back for his slash.
Theodosia’s hand went to the thick roll of vellum in her pocket. She whipped it out and parried Edward’s razor blow. The sharp metal stuck in the soft animal skin.
With a shout of rage, Edward hauled it free. His grip on her slackened for an instant, and she dropped to the deck, free.
Coughing hard, she clambered toward Benedict as Edward grabbed for her ankle.
The knight flew forward to crash into Edward with all his strength.
Edward loosed his hold on her as he did his weapon. The razor flew from his hand and slid into a darkened corner.
“You peasant!” Edward struck Benedict in the face with a bent elbow.
Benedict grunted in pain but didn’t let go of Edward. As both men rolled across the deck, each tried to best the other with a punch, a kick, their strength matched.
Theodosia tried to get to the corner where the weapon lay but couldn’t get past their thrashing bodies. She climbed up onto the planks of wood. She stood up and peered toward the stern to see if she could see Donne. “Captain! I need your help! Please!”
No reply.
A roar of pain came from Benedict. To her horror, he stood facing Edward, his hand held to the side of his face. Blood flooded past his palm.
Edward circled him, razor in hand.
“Throw me that rope, Theodosia. Now.”
She responded to Benedict’s curt order. He caught it in one hand, eyes still on Edward.
“Are you going to try and hang me, fool?” Edward smirked at the looped knot at the end of the rope.
“Not at all.” Benedict slipped the loop over one wrist. He pulled it tight as he broke into a run and shoulder-charged Edward. His speeding bulk sent them both over the side and into the blackness of the ocean.
“Man overboard!” She screamed it at the top of her lungs, unable to believe what she’d witnessed. She scrambled across the woodpile, shouting the words over and over.
“Who’s over?”
God be praised. A male shout. Donne still stood by the tiller, lamp in hand.
“Benedict and Edward. Edward tried to kill me.”
“Saints preserve us.” Donne grabbed a short length of rope and rang the ship’s bell with all his might.
As if summoned by magic, the other crew members emerged from the hatch, newly disturbed from sleep, pulling shirts over their heads.
“Theodosia? What’s happening?” Mama appeared too, her face pale in the moonlight. “And what in the name of the Lord have you done to your hair?”
Ignoring her mother, she climbed across the wood and down the other side to Captain Donne. “Benedict and Edward, they’re in the water. We have to save Benedict, we have to.”
Donne rapped out a series of orders, and one crewman started to pull in the sail, slow the boat, turn it.
The other peered out over the ocean. “I think I see ’em, Cap’n.”
Theodosia looked to where he pointed. The distance made her feel suddenly faint. “How have we come so far?” she said to Donne. “Surely the ship doesn’t sail so quickly.”
“It goes apace and the tide’s under us,” he said. He wrenched the tiller round to change course.
Another shout from the crewman. “I’ve found a rope!”
She wrenched at Donne’s sleeve. “Benedict tied himself on before he pushed Edward in. They’re still attached. Pull them in!”
“Why would Sir Palmer do such a wicked thing?” said Amélie. “Has he lost his mind?”
“No, Mama,” said Theodosia. “Edward’s been on the side of Eleanor all along. He’s the one who betrayed us.”
“The devil.” Her mother crossed herself.
“Did you hear me, Captain?” said Theodosia. “We can get them back.”
“I did hear you, Sister. But until we slow near to a stop, our speed will continue to pull them along. I’m doing all I can, I promise you.”
One of the crewmen gave him a doubtful look. “They won’t last long in this cold water. Five, ten minutes. No more. By the time we get them, they’ll be blocks of ice.”