But Gilbert carried on. “Half the night tending to you, caring for you, willing you back to life. The look on his face when you were out of danger.”
Now it was her turn to blush, caught by surprise at the furrier’s account. “It appears I should not have made light of Benedict’s actions.”
The knight would not meet her eye. “Is the fifty crowns for the sister alive?”
The old man nodded. “Aye.”
Alive. Of course, she thought. So Fitzurse could roast her to death for his pleasure. She asked, “You said there is a price on both our heads. What has been said about Benedict?”
Gilbert paled. “A crown…” He swallowed hard. “For each piece of him.”
Stifling her cry of disgust, Theodosia looked to Benedict, still embarrassed by her clumsy barb. “That will have come from Fitzurse, won’t it?”
His face remained composed. “Of course. Having me chopped to mincemeat would bring him great joy.”
“You can hide here as long as you like.” Gilbert squared his bent shoulders as best he could. “’Tis too late to save the Archbishop’s life, but I can stop any more evil being committed. I’ll not turn you out. Stay here, then leave under cover of darkness, as you’d planned.”
The knight shook his head. “Make no mistake, I’m truly grateful for your offer.” He cast his eyes up with an oath. “But I don’t think the cover of night will help much now. Folk are out hunting, with us as a wealthy prize. They won’t give up just because the sun sets.” He paced the floor of the shop.
“Then we hide for longer,” said Theodosia, a deep urge within her for him to agree. “It’s safe here, Gilbert has promised us. We’ll lock the doors, stay in here. No one will know.”
“Exactly, sir knight,” said Gilbert. “This storeroom will be your sanctuary. For as long as you need it.”
Benedict frowned as he stopped his pacing and gestured around him. “A sanctuary, until someone decides to search the houses. Anyone comes, there’s no windows in the storeroom, no way out. We’re here for the taking.”
“I’ll hide you better than that,” said Gilbert. He indicated to his stored piles of skins. “I can make a space in those. No one would think to look.”
The old man’s tremulous hope touched Theodosia to her soul, though she knew his suggestion was useless. “I think, kind sir, they would,” she said, as gently as she could.
“Then we’ll have to make a run for it. Darkness will be better, but not much. And we still have to stay hidden till then.” Benedict unsheathed his dagger and turned it over in his palm. His dark eyes met Theodosia’s. “This is all that stands between us and death.”
She nodded, finding no words with the turmoil in her chest. That he’d held her, a rough man like him, she could understand. But worried for her? Cared for her?
“Gilbert, what weapons do you have?” said Benedict.
“There’s me tanner’s knife,” said Gilbert. “You should have that, because your young hands shake less than mine. Though the blade’s not what it was. A bit like me. There’s a mallet on a shelf in the cowshed. Nothing else.”
“That’s better than nothing,” said Palmer. “Can you fetch them, please? We need to be as ready as we can be.” He stared at his knife, as if willing the short blade to become a sword.
“Aye, sir knight.” The old man gave a small smile as he went to leave. “Lord knows, I wish I had a sorcerer’s wand and could make you both invisible.”
“That would be a miracle, sir. Would it not?” Theodosia looked at Benedict.
The knight stood stock-still and stared at Gilbert. “What did you say?”
“I said I would make you both invisible.”
Benedict broke into a broad smile. “You, sir, are a man of the finest intellect.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Gwendolyn trotted along beside the blue-eyed knight, head held high. So many of her neighbors pointed her out, spoke to each other with great excitement as she passed by.
The blue-eyed one, Fitzurse, had been joined by another two. A great hulk of a fellow called le Bret and a loud-voiced, red-bearded one named de Tracy.
Oh, she was someone now. Walking through the center of Knaresborough, with three high-ranking knights, if you please, not to mind four castle guards.
Her thoughts went to the reward again. Fifty crowns definite, plus at least a hundred for Palmer. They’d have a horse, fur cloaks. She’d have new silk dresses. She brought a hand to her throat. A pearl necklace.
“How much further, mistress?” Fitzurse had the refined tones of a real nobleman, tones that dripped with wealth.