The Fifth Knight(46)

Benedict’s dark eyes bored into hers. “For what, precisely? She brings the knights with her.”

“No.” Her whole body tensed to run.

Benedict’s hand went to her shoulder. “Invisible, remember?” he murmured.

Shouts came from behind her. She wanted to turn, every inch of her screamed to face the terror, to know when a sword would let fly at Benedict, when hands would grab her. She clutched her roll of clothing tight in both hands.

He kept his gaze locked on hers. “Now, let’s see.” His voice was normal, steady. He lined up the straw hat and placed it on her head at a deep angle, arranging the ribbons under her chin. “Perhaps?” He bent his head to one side. To a casual observer, he perused his wife’s new bonnet.

The shouts grew louder, more voices joined. The stallholder and the girls stopped their banter and stared up the street at the source of the noise.

Benedict glanced around. “They’re almost level.”

Metal spurs tramped hard, and the familiar rap of wooden pattens echoed with them. Voices raised in question, encouragement, conjecture echoed round her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw them pass. Feet away. The knights and guards with swords ready. Fitzurse, his face purposeful and eager. Gwendolyn, her skirts held high to allow her swift steps. The woman’s gaze flicked across her and Benedict, but no recognition sparked there. It was clear she eyed the whole crowd, the better to check that everyone noted her passing. High color showed in her cheeks as she strode along.

The color of triumph, triumph that she’d get the huge reward. Theodosia had to bite back a cry of anger, had to clutch her bundle not to fly at the woman for her betrayal.

“They’ll be at Gilbert’s in a few minutes.” Benedict’s voice was only for her again. “When I put the hat down, we go.”

A horrified realization swept over her. “What will Fitzurse do to him?” she whispered.

“We can’t help him,” said Benedict. “We have to move on.”

“But we cannot just abandon him.” She cast a furious look up the road as the search party moved along. “Not when he has been betrayed by his own wife, the sinful — ”

“It’s the rules of war. He’d understand.”

“Well, I do not follow such rules and I have no such comprehension. He did not abandon us, so we should not abandon him.” She set her shoulders. “He is a furrier, not a knight. I am not moving. We have to try.”

Benedict swore softly. “Then I’ll go. If I’m not back in a few minutes, you have to leave this place.”

“I want to come with you.”

He swore again. “Theodosia, you have to calm yourself. Gilbert was appalled by Becket’s murder. He’s a good man who wants to do good. Your rushing right back into Fitzurse’s clutches won’t help him any. Stay here and look after these.” As he thrust his bundle of clothes at her, an odd half smile flickered on his lips for a moment. He said something as he walked off.

She stared after him. Foolhardy? What did that mean?

♦ ♦ ♦

Alone in his storeroom, Gilbert folded away the pelts that had saved the anchoress’s life, his breath unsteady in his chest with the effort. Well, unsteady with excitement too: he’d had such a time of it.

He went back out into the shop and wondered if he should reopen. Probably, even though it was getting late on. Gwen would have something to say if he didn’t.

Pity she hadn’t been there to help the knight and the sister on their way. She was taking an awfully long time to get the food. Not that he’d even try to criticize her for it. Some things weren’t worth the trouble.

He went to open the wooden shutters. The door crashed open and sent him staggering to one side.

A huge knight with a scarred face burst in, sword at the ready. He pointed it at Gilbert. “Where are they?”

Gilbert raised his hands. “I’m sorry, sir knight. I-I don’t know who you mean.”

“Don’t be such a donkey, Gilbert.”

The familiar voice cut him to the quick. “Gwen?”

His wife strode in, along with a tall knight who had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Sir Reginald Fitzurse. It had to be, from Sir Palmer’s description. Gilbert looked from him to Gwen, appalled. “What have you done?” he asked.

“I’ve done what you should have done,” she said. “I’ve told the knights who we have here.” She dug him hard on the arm. “The reward?”

Gilbert’s strength disappeared from his limbs, and he sagged against the counter. “I have nothing to say.”

Gwen pointed a triumphant finger at the storeroom. “In there.”