Amélie bowed her head graciously. “Sire, you spoke of this many, many years ago. It’s not to be, and I accept that. I am happy to live the life of a holy woman. I am content with your blessed patronage.”
Henry’s mouth creased in a smile. “Few women would ever claim to be content. You’re a remarkable woman, Amélie.” He set off pacing once more. “Look at this situation from the outside world’s view. Eleanor has no proof of your existence.” He swept a hand to encompass all three members of his audience. “Her knights are dead. Edward Grim, curse him again, has a solid reputation.” He held up the manuscript. “His account tells of a murder that happened due to my poor relationship with my archbishop. No mention of any of you in it.” He halted, a triumphant grin on his face. “Then we can return to how we were, except better. Amélie, Laeticia: it will be easy for me to set you up in a new convent, one far from here, where no one will ever suspect your true identities. You will be my secret once more, but completely safe together till the end of your days. I give you my word.”
Amélie clasped her hands. “God be praised,” she said quietly.
Return to the lies. Theodosia plastered a smile on her face, sickened though she was at her fate. But who was she to question a king?
“Sir Palmer,” said Henry, “you risked everything, even your life, for my family. I will see to it that you are a wealthy man.”
“Thank you, Majesty.” Benedict gave a respectful bow.
“But what of you, sire?” said Amélie. “Your plan is most generous, as always. But it means the world will find you to blame for Thomas Becket’s death. That would be a great injustice, a great lie.”
Theodosia and Benedict murmured their agreement.
Henry waved a hand to dismiss their objections. “To bring Eleanor to justice would be almost impossible. For me to try and do so would tear my kingdom apart. Many, many innocent lives would be lost.” He looked at Amélie. “Including yours and Laeticia’s, I have no doubt of that. The Queen never, ever gives up, once she has set her mind to something.” He took the manuscript in both hands, and his voice lowered. “This is mine to atone for.” He stared at it in silence for a long moment, lost in his own thoughts. Then he snapped to, voice strong once more. “Palmer, you can start by having my spare horse, an excellent black gelding. You’ll find him in the stables. I have an estate to the south of the country that needs a baron. I’ll give you the details later. You might as well set off for there in the morning. No time like the present.”
“Thank you again, your Grace.”
Theodosia couldn’t look at Benedict, couldn’t bear to see the joy that would be there. Not just his escape from poverty and shame. Wealth beyond his wildest dreams and a noble title. He would have the pick of noblewomen to take as a wife, to be mother to his children. Her jealousy threatened to overwhelm her, but she forced it down. He deserved it. It didn’t matter if it broke her heart. She’d have the rest of her life to grieve.
CHAPTER 33
Palmer opened the door of the abbey that led onto the courtyard. Though the sky was clear now, the night’s fall of thick soft snow came halfway up his boots. At this hour of the dawn, no one else stirred, save for a single blackbird, hopping along in search of food. Only a lone set of footprints marked the snow, showing the path of a groom headed for the stables.
Up in the abbey, Theodosia prayed or slept, he didn’t know which. And he’d never know. She would be closed to him forever. He trudged through the snow toward the stables, his heart sick. Last night, he’d not closed an eye, running through his choices over and over. And always coming back to the same one. His mind was made up, and it felt right.
The stable door creaked on its hinges as he opened it. Warm, pungent air met his nostrils as he went along the stalls to look for the gelding. There it was.
“Good morning, handsome fellow.” Palmer put a hand out to stroke his new animal. The horse’s neck was sleek under his touch, a smoothness that spoke of many hours of combing and grooming.
The saddle waited outside the stall on a rack. Palmer bent to examine it. Made of the finest leather, it was tooled to the highest standard and oiled so it gleamed. This was the kind of wealth the King’s reward would command. He shook his head. He’d take the horse, he needed one. As for the rest of Henry’s gift, he’d have none of it. The only thing he truly wanted was his beloved anchoress. And because he couldn’t have her, everything else meant nothing.
He picked up the ornate saddle and opened the door of the stall. “Definitely made for a king’s arse. Not mine,” he remarked to the horse.