The scent of old animal waste filled her nostrils as she ducked her head below the low lintel to enter the shelter. “If we find him.”
“We will. And your mother.” Benedict came in behind her and pushed the door closed again. Its swollen wood yielded a squealing challenge as he kicked it flush with the lintel.
In the gloom of the hut, she fumbled for the pile of prickly straw and lowered herself into it. “God willing.”
Benedict settled himself next to her and gave a deep yawn. “The dawn’s on its way soon, and we need to set off then.” His hip pressed close to hers as he lay down. “We’ll get a short kip. Small mercies, eh?”
She ached to lie back too, let the straw take her tired limbs into sleep. But she could not allow it. “You can sleep. I will be staying awake.”
“What on earth for?”
“I cannot sleep beside you.”
“What do you think I’ll do?” His features were a blur in the darkness, but his voice held the edge of one insulted.
“It would not be your fault. But when you are asleep, you are open to Satan and sin. My body would be against yours, sinful and unchaste of me. The devil would call forth lechery in you as you lie defenseless.”
“I’ve never heard such cultch.” With a rustle of straw, he sat up beside her. His face close to hers, she could make out his deep frown.
“I would not expect you to understand. You are not learned in the ways which sin could find you.”
“No, I’m not. But I know my own actions and how to control them.”
“You only think you do. That is how Satan collects souls for hell. Brother Edward explained it to me many times.”
He snorted. “Then explain to me where Satan was the night at Gilbert’s.”
“You know I cannot remember that night.”
“Then I’ll tell you. I held you, all night. While you weren’t in your senses. For much of that night I slept. With you in my arms. And believe me, I controlled my actions where many men wouldn’t have.”
A hard knot gathered in her stomach. “What are you saying?”
“You were naked.”
His words stopped her breath. Naked? With a man? With Benedict Palmer?
“And no, Satan wasn’t there. Only me, holding you to try and will warmth back into your body. I didn’t lay a wrong hand on you.”
His ignorance knew no bounds. “Of course it was wrong.” She clutched her bent knees as she fought for breath. “How could you? I trusted you; I even told Mother Ursula I trusted you with my life. Now you tell me this?”
“Faith, I should never have said a word. I got you dressed again before you woke, left your bed. You would’ve been none the wiser.”
“Then thank the Almighty I have found out. This sin, this terrible breaking of my chastity, has been on my soul for days, and I have not known a thing about it. If anything had happened to me, I would have gone straight to hell.”
“I don’t know how saving a life is a sin. But you know far more about sin than I do.” The straw crackled as he flung himself onto his back once more. “I’m going to sleep. Wake me if you see anyone with horns and a tail.” He turned over, his back to her, his anger tangible.
Theodosia remained sitting upright, hands rigid on her bent knees. Unclothed, like a wanton. Presenting an occasion of sin to him. She could not sleep now if she tried. Penance, she had to beg God’s forgiveness for what Benedict had told her. She shuddered at the mortal danger she had been in, danger she’d known nothing about. Benedict Palmer might pride himself on saving her life, but his pride was an empty, foolish one. He could have lost her immortal soul.
♦ ♦ ♦
“Saint Michael’s.” The monastic post rider pulled his mount to a stop outside the fine Southampton church. “I can’t take you no further, mistress.”
Amélie Bertrand appraised the church’s high stone tower and gave silent thanks. King Henry himself had granted this chapel, along with three others in this town, to the priory of Saint Denys. This was surely a link to her and her vocation.
“If you’ll permit me, mistress.” The post rider had dismounted and now awaited by Amélie’s horse, arm outstretched.
“I thank you.” Amélie unlocked her cramped hands from their grip on the front of the saddle and eased herself from the animal’s back, her limbs stiff from her many undignified hours upon it.
The post rider steadied her as she dropped to the ground, exclaiming to herself at having to perform such a graceless action. He untied her bag from the saddle as she looked around, the dawn light still harsh and gray. They stood at the side of the church, in a yard edged with a row of stables. Grooms and stable boys and other rough men went about their business but paid her arrival little heed.