With a full-body shudder as the mulch hits his hands, Benedict nonetheless seems to realize pretty quickly that it's not going to kill him, and really feels no worse than the floor of his cell when it got grimy.
Better than that, even, since it's got a nice clean, earthy smell, like springtime. He never knew he was even capable of missing the outdoors so much.

He follows Henry's point, then nods, shuffling over to the spot indicated, where he proceeds to spread it out. A part of him still certainly rebels at getting his hands dirty, but on the other hand, the day will end eventually and he actually has access to the baths now.
No more standing naked and shivering behind a blanket as he dumps a cold bucket over his head.