Gwen thrilled to her toes. “Another three alleyways, my lord.”
“Make ready, men,” said Fitzurse.
The group drew their swords in one movement.
Those who watched from the pavements gasped and moved back with somber murmurs.
Gwen held her head even higher. Oh, she was someone now.
♦ ♦ ♦
Theodosia stood in the privacy of the storeroom in Gilbert’s shop, a clean embroidered linen shift of Gwen’s strange against her skin. Clumsy in her haste, she laced up the front of a soft wool corset with fingers that shook.
She scooped up her ruined woolen underclothing from the floor and went out to the shuttered shop. “Do you really think this is going to work?”
“We’ll soon find out if it doesn’t.” Benedict’s reply came through a set jaw. Bent over a bowl of soapy water on the countertop, he shaved his stubble with rapid strokes of a razor.
When you are pulled apart in front of me and I am dragged off to Fitzurse. “I do not know how you can make light of this.” Palms damp with fear, she placed her old clothes on the free space on the counter. “What is more, you still have not told me where we are going.”
Careful footsteps came from the stairwell.
“I’ll tell you when we’re alone,” said Benedict quickly.
Gilbert arrived with an armful of clothing. “I’ve found what I can. Here, Sister.”
Theodosia took the proffered dress from him, its rich red-brown hue like the autumn chestnuts she had seen on the altar at harvest thanksgiving. The finely spun soft wool rested light in her hands. “My goodness. Gwen likes to display finery.” She pulled it over her head.
“Aye, she does,” said Gilbert. “Dresses always make her happy — the finer, the better.”
“I’m ready, Gilbert.” Benedict wiped his newly shaven face clean with a cloth, and Gilbert handed him his clothing. The knight went through to the storeroom.
The front of Gwen’s dress closed by means of supple leather lacing, with the loose material gathered in. Its neckline sat far lower on her chest than Theodosia had ever worn in her life. She touched her exposed skin, the skin where her cross had lain. She was naked twice over now, her body exposed and her cross gone. A thin leather belt, fastened tight, made the dress sit even lower. How could she parade in public like this? She eased the dress up as far as it would go, then adjusted its short sleeves and straightened out the long sleeves of the linen shift beneath.
Gilbert handed her two tubes of light-green fabric heavily embroidered with cream silk. “Pin-on sleeves,” he said. “All the townswomen have them.”
“It is a pity there is no pin-on cover for my bodice.” She took them and went to affix them to the dress. The small metal pins slipped in her sweat-coated fingers.
“Permit me.” Gilbert’s gnarled digits were far more deft than hers.
With her linen shift covered by the patterned sleeves, she picked up a spotless pale green linen head wrap. She slipped it on and pushed her hair beneath with rapid tucks. “Is it all under? I hate my hair showing.”
“You look champion, Sister.” The old man busied himself wrapping up Benedict’s mail in his surcoat to make a neat bundle.
“Gilbert, I need your help or I’ll be here forever.” Benedict emerged from the storeroom, chin lowered in his task. Already clad in dark red woolen hose and knee-length black boots, the knight held the two edges of a brown woolen doublet that he strained to bring together across his linen-covered chest. “I don’t think this will go on.” He looked up, and his eyes lit on Theodosia.
“Looks quite the lady, doesn’t she?” said Gilbert, with clear satisfaction.
Benedict’s swift glance traveled down, then up, her body. “You could say that.”
His appraisal brought a flush to the exposed skin on her chest and neck. “Hopefully not for long.” She went to the counter and folded her skirt and chemise into a tight bundle, fighting down her shame.
Pants of effort came from Gilbert as he helped the knight with his clothing.
“We need your help, Lady Theodosia,” said Benedict.
“Do not mock me.” She knotted off her bundle with a furious twist. “It is not seemly, and certainly not at a time like this.”
Gilbert moved to one side of Benedict and pulled one edge of the doublet with both hands. “This is going to be a tight fit. I was close on your height when I was young, sir knight, but never as broad. Come on, pull hard. Sister, pray give us a hand.”
Leaving her tied bundle, Theodosia went over to them. She stopped in front of Benedict and tightened the laces of the doublet, working them up through the eyeholes with swift twists of her fingers.