The Fifth Knight(24)

Palmer nodded to the guard. “Do it.”

The man went to carry out the order, hauling her up into a seated position. The torchlight lit her tear-flushed face as he struggled with the rusted lock on the collar.

Her eyes flicked from Palmer to the guard. “Please don’t let him take me, please.”

“Wench, he’s already broken my nose.” The guard’s voice came thick from his injury. “He’d have my head too. Far as I’m concerned, he can do what he likes to you.” He straightened up and dangled the open collar from one hand. “Sir.” He gave Palmer a surly glare.

“Thank you, soldier.” Palmer spun the axe and hit the man on the side of his head with the handle. He folded at the knees and slumped to the floor, torch clattering beside him.

Palmer picked it up. “Hold this.”

Sitting stock-still, Theodosia stared at him, hands to her throat where the collar had been.

He looked at the unconscious guard. “He won’t be out for long.” He thrust the torch at her. “Hold it. We haven’t much time.”

She held out one trembling hand as she stood up and took it from him.

Palmer laid down the axe so he could grab the guard’s legs and maneuver him nearer to the wooden post. His shoulders knotted with effort, it took him two or three hauls. He knelt down and fitted the iron loop around the man’s neck. He locked it swiftly, then hooked the door key from the loop on the guard’s belt. “That’s him done. Let’s go.” He looked up at Theodosia. And a sheet of flame hit his face.

Theodosia flinched back and almost dropped the torch as the knight dodged away from her with a yell of pain.

“You’ll not take me.” She screwed up her nose at the acrid smell of his burned hair and swiped again.

Sir Palmer slapped at the side of his cheek. “What are you doing?”

She moved between him and the axe, heart pounding. If he reached it, she was dead. “Stay away from me.” Her voice shook almost as much as her hands as she held the flaring torch close to the knight’s face. “God has given me this weapon against the darkness of your sin. Hand me the door key. This will be your prison while I make my escape from here. If you don’t, I shall, I shall burn you again. You mark my words.” She braced herself for his quick lunge, for his powerful hands to knock away her defense.

To her surprise, Palmer lowered his head with a snort of contained laughter, then looked up at her again. “Oh, then I surrender, Sister.” He held up both hands but got to his feet and took a step toward her. “Or maybe not.”

“Stop where you are.” Theodosia shook the torch at him, but he kept coming, his height a head and a half above her.

She backed away, kicking at the axe handle with her heels to keep it from him, praying it was hidden under her skirt.

Palmer stepped again. “Sister, you’re being as foolhardy as you were with de Morville in the cathedral. I might get a bit singed if I were to go for that axe, but believe me, I’d get it.” He glanced down at the guard and around at the doorway. “We haven’t much time. You must come with me.”

She backed again, and her shoulders hit the wall. “So that you can kill me, like you did my lord Becket?” Arms straight out, she waved the flames again. “Give me the key.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Liar!” She lunged with the flame at his face.

He swerved aside with an oath. “Would you shut up? I’m trying to save your life, and your noise will call down the whole place.” The knight looked around at the doorway yet again and, with a hand up, went quickly over to it to listen out.

His claims to save her made no sense, and he seemed nervous. She’d seen his quick moods, his shift to anger. Maybe he also shifted to madness.

But now she had a chance as he stood in the doorway. If she delivered a hard swipe with the torch, she could get past him. Then run. The axe still lay on the floor and would be in darkness. Theodosia adjusted her grip on the torch and moved forward with small steps. She brought it round to slash at the knight, teeth gritted for his howl of pain, the stench of burned flesh.

He turned back as she hit out. He shot out a long arm and grabbed the torch’s shaft. “Forcurse you, woman.”

She’d lost her chance. Now he’d have her. She tried to wrench the torch free.

Palmer swore again. “Listen to me. For one minute. Your life depends on it.”

“I am sure it does, for you have been sent here to kill me.”

“Not this time.” His dark eyes bored into hers through the quivers of heat from the torch.

She saw no madness there. Her throat tightened. “What do you mean?”