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world stilled. The bells slowed, their last peals giving way to shouts, calls, screams from outside. Fine dust filled the air, dimming the sunlight from the windows.
    Coughing, Theodosia sat up, every inch of her body trembling. The chapel looked as if it had been sacked by marauders.
    ‘All to the gatehouse! Quickly!’ A monk’s command echoing from the cloisters. ‘The earth may move again!’
    Theodosia got to her feet, the stone flags beneath her shoes solid and cold as if nothing had happened.
    But something had. No apocalypse, but a sign from God to her, shaking the earth beneath her to remind her that Benedict had gone to its perilous edge. She could not remain here.
    She knew what she had to do.

Chapter Five
    The Port of Waterford, Ireland
2 5 April 118 5
    ‘A good crossing and still half the daylight left. God smiles on u s, eh?’
    Palmer nodded in agreement with the young, heavy-set man next to him on the deck of the docking ship. ‘Still prefer dry land every time.’ He gave different, silent thanks to the Almighty. Seasickness had been his curse for many years. Though he no longer suffered as badly, he still couldn’t wait for the moment that his boots met a surface that stayed in one place.
    He’d heard on the voyage how much Henry favoured this sheltered port, with the King placing it under his rule during his first visit, in the year Tom had come into the world. It was still far finer than Palmer had expected, especially after witnessing the ravings of the royal clerk, Gerald. A rounded stone tower sat high above the well-built city walls, with many wooden quays reaching far out into the quiet water and lining the muddy lip o f la nd outside the defences. Despite its good size, the number of vessels that had transported John and his men filled every landing space, while many other ships waited, all needing to dock and unload.
    The low, grey cloud brought a damp coolness to the day as seagulls clamoured for the waste being thrown into the water. With whistles and shouts, the men on the quays threw ropes to the sailors , bringing ship after ship to rest. The arrival of so many in the name of the Lord John couldn’t fail to send a message to Ireland, just as Henry had planned.
    Four men approached Palmer’s vessel, carrying the long, heavy, dirty wooden gangplank, and it finally thudded into place.
    Palmer walked off with the others, his bundle of possessions heavy on one shoulder. Beneath his boots, wicker panels had been laid over the ground to provide dry passage. Even so, the wet oozed through from the clay underneath.
    The man he’d docked with nudged him and pointed to a small group along the quayside. ‘Looks like they’re buying ale from th at barrel.’
    ‘You were right about God smiling on us.’ Palmer made his way there with the man, taking with thanks the cup from the woman selling it. The wooden cup of ale went down sweet and cold, and he paid for another.
    A small, dirty boy ran past, hitting the barrel with a stick as he ducked through legs.
    The ale seller saw him off with a swipe and a stream of interesting threats.
    Palmer grinned. ‘We might have to step in if she catches th e lad.’
    ‘True,’ the man replied. ‘She sounds like my wife.’ He took a drink with a long, satisfied sigh. ‘You married?’
    Palmer shook his head. ‘Only have myself to worry about.’ The beer soured in his mouth with the ready lie. But he needed to stick to it. Theodosia was safe. No matter that he wished with every inch of his being that he could get straight back onto a boat to sail fo r home.
    ‘Well, I’m going to find a whore,’ said the man. ‘It’s been weeks since I’ve cooled my loins. You joining me?’
    ‘Happy with my beer, my friend.’
    ‘Suit yourself.’ With a wave, the man was off.
    A group of monks hustled along the quay from the direction o f th e town gate, making for one of the ships that had pulled u p. O f course. They had come to greet Abbess Dymphna as she