Gentle Warrior

Chapter Ten

Elizabeth soaked in the wooden tub of steaming, rose-scented water for a long while. Geoffrey had washed and changed and she sent him away to the dinner table with a wave of dismissal. "I will join you shortly," she promised with a wink.

"Perhaps I will join you now," Geoffrey teased, hesitating at the door. He wanted to stay and gave her a look that told her as much.

"You cannot," Elizabeth replied, laughing. "Your men and my grandfather wait for you. If you are late, they would know what we… my grandfather would guess…"

Geoffrey threw his head back and laughed at her discomfort.

The wet rag hit his forehead and he was forced to pull Elizabeth from the tub and give her a long kiss. "Until later," he said in a husky voice full of promise.

"Yes," Elizabeth whispered, "until later. But now you will have to change, my lord, for I have shared my bath with you." She laughed again and sat back down in the water, casually splashing him with one hand while her other covered her breasts from his view.

Ah, he was a magnificent man, she thought as she seductively studied her husband's physique. He was dressed all in black, save for the golden crest proclaiming his worth, and the water was truly invisible against the dark fabric. She was pleased that he had worn the black, for it would go well with the surprise she had planned and had even gone to great lengths to see that he did. Both the black braies and the bliaut were spread out upon the bed, with the white chainse atop, and Geoffrey, though he had raised an inquiring eyebrow when he saw that his wife had selected his outfit, changed into it without a question.

What a contradiction she is, Geoffrey thought as he watched his wife. She hides her breasts from me with the shyness of a virgin, yet stares at me with a hunger that matches my own. "Your lust is showing, wife," Geoffrey said with extreme smugness. He shook his head with feigned despair and walked back to the door. "Ever you would delay me," he said in parting.

She heard his laughter through the door and smiled with anticipation. "Tonight, dear husband, you will delay me from my sleep. I will see to it."

She hurried with her task of drying herself and then pulled the black ankle-length chainse from her chest. It was one of the new gowns the seamstress had fashioned for her, under protest, for the chainse was usually of a lighter color to give added contrast to the bliaut worn, but Elizabeth had been insistent. She would match her husband tonight, in both dress and passion. Sighing, she pulled the gown over her head and let it fall against her bare skin. She had decided that she would not wear a chemise, and felt herself blush with her wanton behavior. Oh, the surprises I have in store for you, husband, she thought, smiling with anticipation. Even when she slipped the black, knee-length bliaut over the chainse, it still hugged her curves. She brushed her hair, deciding against plaiting it, and then hurried back to the chest once again to remove the wide piece of material she had hidden there. She had designed this herself, though the gifted seamstress had been the one to do the actual sewing, and Elizabeth was extremely pleased with the result. Embroidered upon the golden strip of material was her husband's crest, sewn in contrasting black threads, looking quite wonderful, she thought with pride.

She slipped the material over one shoulder and draped it across one breast, down to the opposite hip, where it tied into place. Then she pulled the black cloth shoes from under the bed and put them on. She was ready.

She reached the door and opened it wide, just as the squire Gerald was about to knock. His hand was poised in the air, but he stood frozen in the act as he looked at his mistress.

"You are beautiful," Gerald blurted out. "You wear his crest."

"It is fitting, is it not?" Elizabeth asked with a smile.

"It is, it is," Gerald stammered with embarrassment. "I did not mean that it was not, my lady."

"I know that you did not," Elizabeth soothed. "Did you wish something?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I did," Gerald admitted, though he did not continue his explanation. He just stood there, grinning from ear to ear, and Elizabeth wanted to laugh at his silly expression. She did not, of course, for she had no wish to hurt his feelings.

"And what is it you wished to see me about?" she coaxed, folding her hands with a relaxed stance that suggested she would stand there for as long as it took for the squire to gather his thoughts.

"Your husband. He awaits you and grows impatient," Gerald remembered to say.

"Then I will go to him," Elizabeth answered.

She scooted around Gerald and started down the hall. "It is a warm evening," she said, trying to put the boy at ease, "and I can smell the scent of new flowers in the air. The warm weather will be welcomed by the men, don't you think?"

Elizabeth turned to hear his reply and found herself alone at the end of the hall. Gerald was still standing at her bedroom door, looking after her with what Elizabeth could only call a stupefied expression. With a laugh she could not contain, she called to the lad and waited for him to reach her side.

"Accompany me to the hall, Gerald. Your lord awaits your service."

Gerald nodded and clutched at Elizabeth 's arm, awkwardly leading her down the steps. I only hope that my husband is as affected, as surprised and pleased, she thought, as the knight holding her arm with trembling fingers.

She was not disappointed. When she reached the entrance to the hall, she stood with her hands at her sides and waited for her husband's attention. The talk and the laughter receded as each of the men spotted her, and by the time Geoffrey glanced up from his position at the table, silence filled the hall.

Still she did not move. She merely stared at him with a becoming smile on her face and waited for him to come to her.

Geoffrey saw his wife and was stunned speechless, like the rest of his men. His breath got caught somewhere in his throat and his legs tried to trip him as he stood and slowly made his way to her.

The crest was visible from across the room, and Geoffrey's chest swelled with pride that she wore it, proclaiming to all the world just who she belonged to.

He stopped when he stood directly in front of her. "You grow more beautiful with each passing second," he said in a whisper.

"Thank you, Geoffrey," Elizabeth answered. She placed her hand on his arm and walked with him to the table.

The talk between the soldiers gradually resumed, but Elizabeth continued to feel their stares and smiled with pleasure.

Her grandfather sat down across from Elizabeth and Geoffrey. "You look lovely, granddaughter," he said. "Don't you think so, Geoffrey?" he asked, turning his gaze to his grandson-in-law.

"I had not thought on it," Geoffrey replied in a mild tone, and then grinned when his wife nudged him with the tip of her shoe. "But now that you mention it, I think you might be right. She is not too displeasing."

Elslow laughed as hard as Geoffrey and Elizabeth looked toward the heavens with exasperation. When she had first met her husband, she had despaired at his lack of humor, and now found she had created a tease that surely rivaled her grandfather.

A fine red wine appeared and Elizabeth toasted her husband and her grandfather. She found herself giggling over the most absurd statements all through the meal and realized that she was drunk with anticipation of the time she would share alone with her husband. She kicked one shoe off and began to rub her toes against her husband's muscular legs and delighted in seeing his reaction, which he tried to mask as he talked with her grandfather. He would have me believe that he is unaffected, she thought with another chuckle.

"Stop that," Geoffrey whispered when she slid her bare toes higher, "else you will be made to pay the price."

"I will get the coin," Elizabeth replied in a saucy whisper, "you have only to name the amount."

"And who will give you the coin?" Geoffrey asked in a growl against her ear that sent shivers of warm need down her legs.

She pulled away and favored him with a long, sultry look and then answered, "My husband. There is much I could barter in exchange."

She gave him a slow, calculated wink then and puckered her lips.

Geoffrey laughed, causing everyone to look their way, and then leaned down toward her again. "I think you try to seduce me, wife," he told her.

"Nay," Elizabeth answered him with a hopefully innocent gaze. She casually slipped her hand to rest in his lap and added, "I do not think it, Geoffrey. I know it."

Geoffrey could not remember the rest of the meal. He knew that he ate his fill in record time and that he had removed his wife's hand from his lap countless times, only to find it nestled there again and again. Before Elizabeth could take more than two bites of her food, he had hauled her to her feet and into his arms. To the cheers of his men and a roar of approval from Elslow, he carried her out of the room. One bare foot peeked out from beneath her gown and Geoffrey smiled as he ignored her protests and strode out of the hall.

What a confusion this wife of his was, Geoffrey thought as he carried her to their bedroom. She defies me in the morning, ignores me the rest of the day, and now plays the enchantress. There had to be a reason for this change in her behavior, Geoffrey realized, but he would be most content to wait until later to find out what it was. Now he wanted only the satisfaction she could give him.

When the bedroom door was closed, Geoffrey leaned against it, still holding her in his arms. Elizabeth turned his head toward her with the tip of her finger and smiled at him. It was a smile full of tenderness and love. She slowly wet her lips with her tongue and then did the same to his, knowing from the look in his eyes that he was pleased with her aggression. She kissed him then, opening her mouth as he opened his, welcoming his tongue inside as he explored the moist sweetness she offered. Only when the kiss threatened to overpower her did she draw back. She gave him another smile and began to unfasten the lacings at his neck, pausing often to kiss and stroke him while she worked.

Geoffrey did not say a word. He let her slide to the floor and stood as still as a statue while his wife undressed him. Her fingers were like the wings of a dove as she removed his garments. This game, this twist where she was the seducer, excited him. He would see how far she would go before bowing to his expertise, already noticing the blush covering her cheeks when he stood nude before her.

She stood back when the task was finished and carefully removed the sash she wore. She felt some embarrassment now, knowing that her husband watched her every motion, and she did not hesitate until the tunic had been removed and it was time to pull the gown from her body. She looked up at Geoffrey for a long moment, nervous now that she wore nothing beneath the gown, and hoped that he would not think her shameful. Ever so slowly she edged the gown up, over her hips, her breasts, and finally her head, before dropping it to the floor.

Geoffrey was so startled by her nudity that he could only stare at her. She was like the goddess he had imagined her to be when he first saw her in the forest, Geoffrey thought, proud and magnificent, and golden.

He reached out for her but stopped when she shook her head. She was not smiling now, even when she glanced down and saw she still wore one shoe. She flipped it off and then looked back at her husband. He could see the passion ignited in her eyes, her expression, and knew that it matched his own in intensity.

"You blush, Elizabeth," Geoffrey said in a voice that sounded hoarse to his ears, "yet I have touched and kissed you everywhere. Do you think you will soon overcome this shyness?"

"I will try, my lord," Elizabeth promised. She walked over to the bed and pulled the covers back. "Come, Geoffrey. It is my turn to learn your secrets as you have learned mine. It is my turn to kiss you everywhere and see if you will blush with the memory tomorrow."

Her absurd remark that he was capable of blushing made him grin. Her words excited and intrigued him, for he had taught her all that she knew about the art of loving. His eyes hooded, he walked over to her and lifted her chin. He kissed her softly on her lips and then stretched out on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. He would let her continue the game a while longer, he decided, until he felt his control slip or until she could go no further due to her inbred inhibitions, and then he would take over, pleasure her as she had yet to be pleasured. It was his last coherent thought.

Elizabeth began her gentle assault at his neck, using her mouth and her tongue to taste and explore, moving ever so slowly downward in her quest to touch every inch of her husband. She would worship him this night as he had worshiped her in their nights before. She would give him such excitement and satisfaction that he would forgive her for what she must do in the morning. Tonight, she promised as she moved her hips against his legs, tonight you will love me, Geoffrey, and that will balance your anger with my disobedience when you learn of it.

She felt his intake of breath when she reached his hips and smiled with the knowledge that she held him captive. This role of aggressor was to her liking, she decided, for she was the one in full control now, not her husband.

Twice Geoffrey tried to pull her back to his chest, to kiss her until she was as affected as he, but both times Elizabeth resisted. Her hand found and closed over him and he groaned with reaction. And then he felt the touch of her tongue against his pulsating heat and her mouth take him inside and his mind left his body. He growled his pleasure and his hands found her legs. With a forceful jerk, he turned her and began to pleasure her as she pleasured him. Elizabeth moaned and began to move against him with both her mouth and her hips, and Geoffrey knew he could not hold back much longer. He stopped her with his hands and moved her on top of him, her knees braced on either side of his hips. And then he thrust inside her, with such force that Elizabeth cried out. He hesitated, concerned that he had hurt her, but her hips urged him on. "Do not stop," she moaned, "do not…"

Her words drove him wild with need. He pushed into her again and again, mindless of the world. Only he and Elizabeth existed now, riding toward the crest of fulfillment. And when Elizabeth arched above him and cried out his name, Geoffrey allowed himself release, holding her tightly against him as the explosion overtook them both.

"I love you, Geoffrey, more than my life, I love you." Elizabeth collapsed on top of her husband and snuggled against his chest but not before he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks. The silent crying did not last long, and though she tried, Elizabeth was unable to keep the sobs inside.

Geoffrey held her, whispering gentle words meant to soothe her, but she could not hear them over the echo of her own hiccups. "You tell me that you love me and then you cry?" he asked when she had calmed a bit. "You are unhappy over our lovemaking? You were not-"

"Nay," Elizabeth interrupted. "It was wonderful, you were wonderful, and gentle and…" Renewed sobs stopped her litany of his qualities and Geoffrey found himself shaking his head.

"Then why do you cry?" he persisted.

"I cry because I am happy," Elizabeth insisted between sniffles.

Geoffrey rolled over, taking Elizabeth with him, and pinned her to the bed. Holding her face in the cup of his huge hands, he looked into her eyes and said in a gentle voice, "You are a contradiction and I vow it will take me years to understand you fully, but I think there will be sweet joy in the confusion of it all. What think you on this?" He leaned down and kissed her on her lips and then pulled back to await her answer.

"I think I will have been suffocated long before then, husband, unless you release me and let me breathe," she replied, a hesitant smile curving her mouth.

Geoffrey immediately lifted his weight with his elbows but kept her firmly in place beneath him. His feet locked hers into submission when she tried to squirm away, and his expression remained serious. "I would know why you cry when we finish loving each other."

"I am confused," Elizabeth admitted.

"About loving me?" Geoffrey asked. The thought made him uneasy and his brow wrinkled with irritation.

"No, Geoffrey," Elizabeth answered. "I will not take back the words, for I meant them… for now and always."

"That is good," Geoffrey replied, grinning. He rolled to his back and let Elizabeth get settled against his side.

"Geoffrey?" Elizabeth asked, her tone hesitant.

"Yes?" Geoffrey answered as he reached out with his hand and squelched the light from the single candle on the table next to the bed. The room was thrown into darkness. "You wish to maul me again?"

Though she could not see his face, Elizabeth could hear the laughter in his voice. He had certainly taken to teasing, she thought, just as a duck takes to water, and she might have challenged him for more loving had she not been preoccupied with her other thoughts.

"If a vassal came to you and asked your help, or if you promised one vassal that you would give him something, and then another vassal came along and wanted your promise for the same, what would you do?" She had phrased her question badly and the confusion of it all registered in her mind. How could he help her know what to do if she couldn't even explain?

"You cannot give to the second what has been promised to the first," Geoffrey answered very matter-of-factly. "That is the law."

"Always the law," Elizabeth snapped.

"We would be animals without it," Geoffrey argued with a yawn. "Why do you concern yourself with the problems of vassals?" he asked.

"It is all so confusing, these promises and vows," she admitted in a whisper.

"That is because you are a woman," Geoffrey returned, trying to keep his voice neutral so that she would not know he baited her.

"And women are not capable of understanding?" Elizabeth asked. Her body tensed beside him as she waited for his reply.

"That is true," Geoffrey said, waiting for her fury. When she remained in her stiff position beside him, he grinned into the darkness and added, "Now a horse…"

She realized then that he was teasing and relaxed against him. "Always you bait me, husband," she sighed.

Geoffrey dislodged her with his hefty laugh. "I bait you? It is the opposite, and well you know it!" He snorted again and then hauled her back against him. "Enough talk, wife. I'm tired. Close your eyes and sleep."

"So a man tires easily after making love? He is so weak that he must immediately sleep for hours upon hours? Now a woman…"

Geoffrey stopped her words and her thoughts with a determined kiss and then rested his head next to hers.

"Pleasant dreams," she whispered as she closed her eyes.

"I have just finished my dreams," Geoffrey whispered against the top of her head. And it was most pleasant indeed, he thought, smiling as he fell asleep.

Geoffrey rode out with the first light of day, careful not to disturb his sleeping wife. He kissed her on the forehead and had to be content with only that, as he did not want to chance waking her and having to deal with her questions as to his destination.

Roger and fifty of the soldiers were saddled and waiting. Geoffrey took a few minutes to go over his plans once again with Elslow and then led the procession through the gates. His expression turned grim; it was the face now of the warrior about to do battle.

Elizabeth watched her husband leave from her view at their bedroom window. As soon as he was out of sight, she turned and began to dress. Hammond and another, a strong peasant called Tobias, waited with the horses, already outside the walls, and Elizabeth knew that she would have to hurry to meet them, before the entire house was roused for the new day. She dressed in a dark blue gown and tied her hair in a knot at the base of her neck. Then she covered herself in her long cape, though the weather was warm enough to go without, and pulled the hood over her hair to hide its bright color. The dagger and the bow and arrows were her arsenal in case of danger along the way.

She took the same direction as the day of the massacre, down the hidden stairway and out the side door, and then across the vacant courtyard and through the stable, to another door that faced the wall. A ladder was braced against it, put there by Hammond the night before, and Elizabeth was up and over the top with little effort. Hammond stood at the bottom on the other side, bracing the second ladder to keep it steady as his mistress climbed down.

Together they walked to where the horses were hidden among the trees, and without a word, they mounted and rode into the forest.

Elizabeth led the way, concentrating on the cutoff path she would follow, all the while trying to block her feelings. But her subconscious would not let her rest, and by the end of the long day's ride, without stopping for food or water, Elizabeth was exhausted, both physically and mentally.

They made camp a good two hours before nightfall, in a thick, wooded area about an hour's ride from her brother-in-law's land, and while Tobias saw to the horses, Hammond opened his burlap sack and divided the food he had brought along.

Elizabeth ate little of the fare, save for a small chunk of hardened bread, and spoke not at all. They dared not risk a fire, and the chill sweeping in before the night forced her to huddle under her cloak while she rested against the bark of a tree. "My lady," Hammond said, "we are so close to our destination. Perhaps after you have rested, we could continue on and reach your brother-in-law's home before night is upon us."

Elizabeth did not answer her servant but shook her head. She let Hammond assume she was too tired to continue on. He did not question her again but announced that he would take the first watch. Elizabeth nodded that she had heard, and closed her eyes. She was in agony, mental torment, and she was losing the battle inside her soul and brain, for no matter how hard she tried, she could not blank her mind to the guilt and accusations camping there.

She tried to convince herself that what she was doing was not wrong. But it was, she finally admitted. Very wrong! Oh, she thought with acute despair, I have fooled myself long enough. Last night I knew, in my heart… that is why I was so forceful in seducing my husband, in pleasing him. I knew I would betray his faith in me soon. But I cannot do it! I cannot. Forgive me, Father, but you must wait as I must wait, for I cannot go against my husband. I have placed my faith in him and he will avenge your soul. I will have to be content that he will keep his promise, rather it take twenty years or not.

" Hammond!" Her whisper startled him and he hurried over to kneel at her side, a worried look on his face.

"You have heard something?" he asked in a nervous whisper. He glanced back over his shoulder, looking toward the thickness beyond, his sword at the ready. "I fear my hearing is not what it used to be," he admitted after a moment. "I am a sorry one to protect you, my lady."

"No, Hammond, rest your fears. I have heard nothing," Elizabeth replied, patting him on his shoulder. Hammond turned back to stare at her, a puzzled look covering his frown. Elizabeth smiled at him, her measure to try to reassure him. "Think we could make an hour's time back the way we have come before this bleak night descends on us?"

Hammond leaned back on his haunches, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "I do not understand," he finally confessed. "You wish to return to Montwright?" There was a spark of hope in his voice, which made Elizabeth bow her head with renewed shame. She had placed both Hammond and Tobias in a less than tenacious position with their new master, Lord Geoffrey. She had not considered their possible fate as a result of their disobedience, thinking only of herself and her foolish need for vengeance.

" Hammond, what I was about to do, to go to Rupert, it is wrong and I have only just realized it. I would be disloyal to my husband by taking my concerns to my brother-in-law. I am sorry that I have placed both you and Tobias in such jeopardy with my foolishness and pray you will forgive me."

Before Hammond could reply, Elizabeth flung the cloak aside and stood up. "Come, now, and we will try to make distance while the light guides us."

Hammond closed his eyes with relief. His mistress had finally come to her senses. He was sure his prayers to the Almighty had helped her along, and he crossed himself in thanksgiving. And then he was in motion, saddling first Elizabeth 's horse and then his own.

The threesome rode hard through the forest until the last fingers of light began to recede from the sky. They had pushed caution aside, in favor of haste, and stayed on the road. Elizabeth was the first to spot the lake in the distance. She slowed her pace and called to Hammond, "Think we should stop here for the night?"

Hammond was about to tell her yes, that there were several good hiding places that would serve their needs, but the thunder coming down the road toward them stopped his thoughts.

Elizabeth too heard the horses. Her face drained of color and she tensed, confusing her mare by nudging her with her knees while her hands held him back by the reins. The horse began to prance about in agitation and confusion, and Elizabeth took precious minutes trying to regain control.

"Go to the lake," she yelled to Hammond and Tobias. "I will follow." Tobias needed no further urging and took out in full gallop, but Hammond shook his head. He drew his sword and waited while Elizabeth struggled with her horse. It was too late now, and

Hammond was convinced that he was about to die with his mistress.

And then the thunder was upon them, and the leader almost collided with Elizabeth. Her mare reared in reaction to the army that had just rounded the curve in the road, and the hood Elizabeth wore fell to her shoulders. She fought with her horse and glanced at the men blocking her path. Geoffrey! Saints be praised, it was her husband. Elizabeth almost fell off her mare when she saw who it was, and found herself smiling with relief.

Geoffrey could not believe what he was seeing. Blinking did not remove the sight either, he found. His wife! Here, in the middle of the forest, with but one old man to offer her protection. Had he gone crazy? " Elizabeth?" he heard himself ask, and hardly recognized his own voice.

"Good eve, my lord," Elizabeth replied in a soft whisper.

" Elizabeth!" This time her name was fairly bellowed, and the roar caused her animal to become upset all over again. Roger came to her rescue and she was most appreciative, as her husband seemed unable to move a muscle, save for the one pulsating in his cheek.

Elizabeth was thankful that they were not alone. The look in his eyes was beyond frightening, and she found she was extremely nervous. She turned her gaze to his companion and tried to pretend that all was right with the world. "Good evening, Roger. It has been a fine day, has it not?"

Roger seemed dumbfounded by her question. He opened his mouth to say something but couldn't think what it was. And then he found himself grinning, but God's truth, he could not help it.

Elizabeth widened her smile and brushed her hair out of her face. She was careful to keep her gaze away from her husband and continued to smile-much like a simpleton, she thought-to his men lined up on the road behind him. "I apologize for interrupting your ride, husband," she said in his general direction, "and we will be on our way now. God speed you on your journey," she added.

She knew it wouldn't work, but then, there wasn't really any other plan, she thought. She grabbed the reins and spurred her horse, hoping only to get him away from his men so that he could kill her without an audience.

She did not get a single gallop in. Geoffrey held the reins to her horse before she had half-skirted him, and pulled her in just like a fish on a short string. And now he will kill me, Elizabeth thought a little hysterically. And all for nothing!

The shrill cry of her hawk high above the group forced Elizabeth to automatically glance up. "Roger," she heard her husband say, "I think you best protect her from the hawk."

Elizabeth looked back at Geoffrey and frowned. "My hawk would not harm me," she said before looking back to the sky. She frowned again as she watched her pet's frantic circles.

"He is very close to bearing you," Geoffrey stated. He kept his voice soft, but the anger was most obvious.

Realization dawned. Elizabeth looked back at her husband, her eyes wide with fright. He was referring to himself, by the name his men had given him.

"Geoffrey, I would explain," Elizabeth stammered.

"Aye, you will," Geoffrey snapped, trying not to grab her by her neck and wring some sense into her. He dared not touch her at all until his temper cooled and he was in control.

Another screech from the sky drew her attention again. She watched her hawk circle again and again and said, almost to herself, "Geoffrey, something is wrong, else he would land."

"Ride!" Geoffrey's command broke the quiet. Like a flash of lightning, he pulled Elizabeth into his saddle and threw the reins of her mare to Roger. He goaded his stallion into motion and Elizabeth held on for dear life as they flew into the forest. She closed her eyes and buried her face against Geoffrey's chest so that the branches could not scrape her, though there was no need, for her husband guarded her well, using his shield to guard her against injury.

When they neared the edge of the lake, Geoffrey called a halt. "James, take two others and ride back toward the road. Keep well hidden and report who passes."

Geoffrey watched three of the soldiers disappear, swallowed by the trees and the dense foliage, and then turned his attention to his wife. She still clung to him and Geoffrey reached into her hair and gave a hard tug, pulling her head back and her face up, just inches from his own. He knew he caused her discomfort from the way she held her lower lip between her teeth, and could well feel her tremble in his arms, yet it was nothing compared to the agony she had just put him through. "When I get you to my home, I will lock you in my room and throw away the key," he vowed in a low voice, and from the look on his face, Elizabeth had no doubt that he would do just that.

"I will not complain," Elizabeth whispered in reply. "Whatever you decide to do to me I will deserve and not make complaint, though I wish you would let me explain," she ended.

Geoffrey was totally unimpressed with her humble acceptance of his threat. He was still too angry. "Why in God's name are you here?" he asked.

"I was on my way to see Rupert," Elizabeth admitted. Her reward for complete honesty was another hard tug on her hair and she almost cried out with the pain.

"It is fortunate for you that I was able to stop you, then," Geoffrey said in a harsh voice. He eased up on his hold when he saw the tears in her eyes but his fury knew no limits.

"But I was on my way home," Elizabeth said.

"You saw Rupert?" His voice sounded incredulous and he found himself pulling on her hair again.

"Nay," Elizabeth replied. "Geoffrey, you hurt me! Loose me and I will explain," she pleaded.

Geoffrey obeyed her request but promptly captured her shoulders in a tight grip. "I am waiting," he said. His face was a mask, but Elizabeth could still feel the anger in him.

"It is true, I was on my way to see Rupert, but I could not do it. I could not go to him. It would have been disloyal to you. And so I turned around and was headed home when you chanced upon me."

"Disobedient," Geoffrey corrected, "not disloyal." He let go of her shoulders and realized his hands were shaking. She would have ridden into hell had she ventured into Rupert's web, Geoffrey knew. And he would thank God each and every day for the rest of his life that she had not.

"No, Geoffrey, I was disloyal as well." Elizabeth 's confession sounded like a tortured whisper.

"God give me patience with you," Geoffrey muttered. "Always you contradict me." He shook his head and waited for her response.

"I was not going to Rupert just to offer comfort in his time of need. No, my motives were selfish and sinful, Geoffrey. I grew impatient waiting for you to do something and decided that Rupert would champion my cause. I thought to tell him about Belwain, and in his grief he would not be so concerned about the law… and he would go to Belwain and make him confess."

Tears began to stream down her face and Elizabeth wiped them away with an impatient hand. She could tell from the look on her husband's face that he was furious with her confession. He acted like he had just received a blow to his midsection, and Elizabeth cried all the more, for she was the cause of his anger, his pain. "I am guilty of disobedience and disloyalty and lack of patience. I admit to each sin, and will cut my hair and wear a peasant's garb for a year if that be my penance. But, Geoffrey, last evening I knew I could not go through with my plan. I had given you my trust. By going to Rupert I would have been telling you that I had no faith in you. Geoffrey, I was so confused. I had made the vow to avenge my family's deaths… and then I made the vows to you… and I did not know which came first. Oh, Geoffrey, I cannot be vengeful any longer. Belwain's death will not bring my papa back to me. This constant thought of revenge truly goes against my nature." She wiped her cheeks with the edge of her cloak and wished her husband would say something. Oh, how she longed to hear him yell at her. Anything, to show her she had not destroyed any affection he might have felt for her. "If you decide never to look for proof of my uncle's treachery, then so be it."

It took Geoffrey a long while to calm down. He almost shuddered when he realized how close he had come to losing her. The danger! And she had no idea, none at all. That was probably his fault, he admitted. Aye, he too was to blame. If he had not been so stubborn, so bent on teaching her her place, none of this would have come to pass. Yet she had just admitted that she was on her way to another to champion her cause. How dare she? his mind demanded, when she had given her trust into his care. Aye, it was disloyalty, in thought and in action. He would have to address this problem, but not until he had time to think. It was unwise to make snap judgments and decisions, for they could well prove unchangeable. He needed time… time and distance away from his wife, to sort this confusion out.

" Elizabeth, it was Rupert behind the whole of it." She did not understand what he was saying. Not at first. She shook her head, trying to deny what she just heard. No, he was Margaret's husband! He would not, could not…

"He hides until the wound from the knife heals," Geoffrey said, watching the play of emotions crossing his wife's face.

Elizabeth was too stunned to say anything. The enormity of the situation was too much to consider.

Geoffrey dismounted and lifted her to the ground. "It is true. You would have ridden into hell and not known it until it was too late."

"How did you find out?" Elizabeth finally managed to ask.

"From the moment you told me the story, I was suspicious of Rupert. The fact that he suddenly became too ill to accompany his wife to Montwright, that planted the seed of doubt in my mind. Then, when Elslow arrived, he told me that Rupert was one of the leaders of the rebels against William, though Rupert does not know that Elslow could name him traitor. The final proof came from the messenger, the first messenger. One of Rupert's ill-treated servants let slip the news that Rupert's injury was slow to heal. That bit of information, added to the fact that Rupert refused to answer my call… Aye, Elizabeth, he is the one behind the whole of it. I would stake my life on it."

"Dear God, he killed Margaret," she whispered. "And you were on your way to confront him, weren't you? You sought to put an end to this nightmare and end my torment. Geoffrey, I-"

"I was on my way to challenge him, yes," Geoffrey said, his voice hard again. "But not to put an end to your torment, wife. You place too much worth on yourself if you think you are my main concern. Rupert attacked what belonged to me, and your father was my loyal vassal. Montwright is but one of my holdings but I protect all I own. And I am loyal to all who place their trust in my hands. Your nightmare is your own, Elizabeth, your torment yours to keep. You are narrow of purpose, thinking only of yourself. Aye, you are selfish and foolish, and that is a most dangerous combination."

Geoffrey knew that he hurt her with his harsh words but he was too angry to take them back. She had just admitted that she had been disloyal. Added to that fact was her foolishness in placing herself in such jeopardy… and all to go to a madman who would have taken great pleasure in killing her. He let his anger run free, knowing full well that his wife was the only available vessel for his wrath, his hurt.

"What is my worth, Geoffrey?" Elizabeth 's softly spoken question took him by surprise. He had thought that his words would have angered her and she would have responded in kind. He found he was disappointed and admitted that he wanted a good fight. He studied her for a long moment, noting that she held her head up and her shoulders straight. There was pride in her stance, but no arrogance or anger in her gaze. Geoffrey looked into her eyes and could only read defeat there… defeat and sorrow.

"Do not ask me that question now," Geoffrey snapped, "else I will say something I may regret. You have the ability to make me lose my temper like no other." Geoffrey clasped his hands behind his back, calming somewhat by her docile attitude, and said, "You do not fight with me and I cannot help but wonder at your motives. Perhaps you have realized that you have gone too far this time?"

Elizabeth refused the bait. She could not handle any more harsh words. "Why Rupert?" she asked, changing the subject. "Did he also want Montwright?"

"I think not," Geoffrey said. "No, it was havoc he was after," he concluded.

"Margaret was so gentle, so loving," Elizabeth said, shaking her head, "and he killed her."

Roger interrupted with a shout. "The men return, Hawk."

Geoffrey and Elizabeth both turned.

The soldier called James dismounted and hurried over to his lord. "They come this way and outnumber us three to one. They ride from the east."

"Rupert?" Elizabeth asked her husband. She started to tremble and could not seem to stop.

Geoffrey did not answer her. He lifted Elizabeth into his arms and carried her to her horse. Placing her in the saddle, he called to Roger. "See to her protection." Pulling his sword from its sheath, he turned from her and began ordering his men into position.

The sun was slowly slipping from the sky, casting a soft orange glow to the lake. Another half hour, and the woods would be in total darkness. Roger led Elizabeth 's mare away from the water and between two tall trees. He motioned to James again and two others and Elizabeth was surrounded by men on horseback. "Do not leave her side," Roger ordered, and the men immediately nodded. "I know you would not," Roger corrected when he realized he had insulted them with his order. They would die before letting harm come to their lady, just as he would.

"God protect you," Elizabeth whispered to Roger. He nodded and started toward her husband. And you protect my husband, she added to herself.

The rebels could be heard in the distance, riding hard and fast through the denseness. They aimed for the water, to refill their pouches, Elizabeth thought. But she was wrong. One minute the only sound was that of hard-ridden mounts, and the next, the bedlam of battle. The enemy had ridden into the clearing with their weapons drawn; aye, they were ready for battle. Geoffrey and his men did not have the element of surprise on their side and they were outnumbered, as James had stated.

As soon as the war cry sounded, the shields were up, blocking Elizabeth 's view. She listened to the screams and the clashes of iron against iron. She pictured

Geoffrey injured or dead, and covered her ears with her hands. And then she could stand it no longer. She prodded the soldier blocking her view and demanded that he lower his shield so that she could see that her husband was safe. The trees and the receding light hid them well, and the soldier agreed.

"They need your help," she said when she saw the numbers. "Go and lend your skill," she demanded of James. "I will be safe here with just one of you to protect me."

James needed no further urging. He was eager to do his part and agreed that the men could use his aid. He motioned to the others and all but one followed him, each giving the cry for battle as they rode down the slope with their weapons drawn.

Elizabeth watched her husband as he battled with another. She held her breath when a blow just missed his stomach by inches, and then released it when he felled his opponent.

Two others approached her husband, one with a lance and the other with a battle ax. Geoffrey made short work of killing them.

Her attention turned to Roger, fighting against two men at the water's edge. As she watched, another joined the twosome, and she saw that Roger was losing, and had no place to move. He was silhouetted against the setting sun, an easy target for the enemy, with the lake just inches behind him. Elizabeth frantically looked about to see if anyone was coming to Roger's aid and then remembered the bow and arrows she carried. "Move aside," she called to her one protector. She placed the arrow against the string and took aim, hesitating for the barest of seconds while she prayed that the rebel would stand still and that God would forgive her for taking a life, and then let go. The arrow whistled through the air and found its target, lodging in the back of the rebel's head. Another prayer for forgiveness and thanksgiving for her accuracy and the rebel's foolishness in not wearing a helmet, and she was ready to shoot another arrow. This time the weapon lodged in the back of the second rebel's neck, and he fell to his knees, screaming in agony. Elizabeth told herself she was not sorry for it, as he would have killed Roger if she had not interfered. Yet her stomach made a lie of her thoughts, twisting and churning at her deed.

Roger looked down at the rebel kneeling before him and saw the arrow protruding from his neck when he fell forward on his face. His curiosity almost caused his death. The third rebel took advantage of Roger's inattention and rushed forward.

Roger did not have time to do more than block the blow from the spear, sending it flying into the air. He was not injured, but lost his footing and fell backward into the lake. The rebel promptly turned and ran to fight another.

"He will drown," the soldier protecting Elizabeth yelled. "His armor will hold him under."

"He will not!" Elizabeth shouted the denial. Her gaze flew to Geoffrey. He would know what to do. But he can do nothing, Elizabeth realized as she watched him fight the rebels trying to surround him.

"Do you have rope?" Elizabeth shouted. The soldier nodded and she said, "Jump into the water and tie it around Roger's waist. Between the two of us, we will be able to pull him out."

"I too wear armor," the soldier told her. "It would do no good."

"Then I will do it," Elizabeth decided. "Hurry! Ride to the water's edge with me and hold one end of the rope. When you feel a pull on it, drag Roger to the surface. Do not argue," she screamed when she saw he was about to protest. "My husband would wish this."

She did not give the soldier time to consider what he should do, but urged her mount into action and raced to the water's edge. She slipped off her mare and grabbed the rope. "Hold tightly," she said, and then took a deep breath and made a clean dive into the water. The distance to the bottom was greater than she had anticipated, but she found Roger almost immediately. She pushed at his shoulder but he did not respond. Praying that she was not too late and that he still had air inside of him, she hurried to make a slip knot around his waist with the rope. It was difficult work as the mud was thick and resistant to her struggle to get the rope around the knight. Her lungs ached from the strain but she did not give up her task. As soon as she had the knot secured below the heavy chest mail, she tugged the rope and pulled on Roger's shoulders. When she could not stand the pressure a second longer, she kicked away from the knight and headed for the surface.

As soon as the soldier felt the pull on the rope, he began to back his steed, and within seconds the limp body of Geoffrey's faithful vassal was pulled from the water.

Roger was doubled over and the tightness of the rope acted as a squeezing vessel below his ribs. It forced great gushes of water from his lungs, and by the time he was dragged clear, he was coughing and sputtering.

Elizabeth did not hear him. She tried to climb out of the water but was crying so hard that she couldn't seem to keep a hold. She was too late! And now Roger was dead.

Geoffrey had gained victory over his opponents and was on his way to fight another when he glimpsed Elizabeth just seconds before she dived into the water. He reacted with almost superhuman power then, screaming like a wild animal as he raced to get to her. His men saw to his back, saving his life countless times as he passed the rebels without a glance. And then the fight was over, the remaining rebels running to safety.

Geoffrey was tearing at his armor, intent on diving into the water to find Elizabeth, when she surfaced just a few feet in front of him. Relief such as he had never known washed over him, and he found that his legs would no longer support him. He knelt down and bowed his head and gave thanks.

Her soft sobs renewed his strength, and his rage. He thanked God that she was alive so that he could kill her, and shot up to his feet with a bellow of fury. "I thought you drowned," he screamed as he hauled her out of the water. "I thought you drowned," he repeated. He was shaking her as he screamed, and then suddenly stopped and pulled her against his chest.

Elizabeth heard the agony in his voice and cried all the more. "Nay, Geoffrey. It is worse," she said, sobbing. "It is Roger. He is the one drowned."

Her husband did not seem to understand. He began to shake her again, yelling at the top of his lungs. He confused her with his tirade. And then Roger's coughs reached her and she began to cry louder. "He is not dead, Geoffrey. He is not! Do not be angry any longer."

"You are a stupid woman," Geoffrey ranted. He pulled her against his chest and said something she could not hear, and then jerked her back and was shaking her all over again. It was as if he could not make up his mind. She started to cry again, uncaring that an audience had formed as a half-circle behind her husband, and tried without success to get the mass of wet hair out of her face. "I would explain," she sobbed, wishing she could just find a place to sit and calm herself.

"You will not," Geoffrey bellowed, grabbing for her shoulders again. He pulled her to his chest once again and said in a softer voice, "Quit your weeping, Elizabeth. It is over."

He felt Elizabeth nod against him and found himself taking deep breaths to stop his tremors. Lord, he was acting more like a woman each day he spent with Elizabeth, he thought, and a smile of disbelief crossed his face. He spotted Roger, drenched but very much alive, and motioned him to his side. "It was this stupid, disobedient wife of mine that saved your life, Roger. What think you of that?" he asked.

"I am most grateful," Roger answered. "Though I would disagree that she is stupid, my lord."

Geoffrey almost laughed.

Roger pointed to the men on the ground behind him and said, "Recognize the arrows, my lord?"

"They are mine," Elizabeth acknowledged, pulling free of her husband's hold. "And don't you dare yell at me again, Geoffrey! My ears are ringing from your shouts. You were outnumbered and I did what was needed."

"It was my duty to protect you, wife, not the other way around," Geoffrey replied, clearly exasperated. "You risked your life."

"It is my life to risk," Elizabeth argued. She placed her hands on her hips, flung her hair out of her face with a jerk of her head, and gifted him with a long, scorching look. "Think you own it?" she challenged. Her arrogant tone was lessened somewhat by the hefty sneeze she couldn't contain.

"I do," Geoffrey bellowed. His hands were now on his hips, his stance threatening. The muscles of his bronzed thighs and legs, braced apart for battle, intimidated her just as much as the frigid look in his eyes.

Elizabeth's stomach twisted; she suddenly felt very vulnerable arguing with her husband in front of his men, for though they appeared busy burying the dead and seeing to one another's injuries, it was obvious that they could well hear the shouts from their leader and his mistress. Why, Elizabeth realized, her mother would never have raised her voice to her father in such a fashion. It was unseemly, undignified. Of course, her mother would never have gotten herself into a situation such as this in the first place!

Elizabeth 's hands dropped to her sides in confusion and defeat. "You are most unreasonable," she said. Turning away from his glare, she started to walk back toward the trees. "I've no doubt you would like to put me in chains and drag me behind you," she muttered over her shoulder.

She was jerked around and pulled back into her husband's arms before she could gather another breath. "Do not dare to walk away from me when I am speaking to you," Geoffrey stated in a harsh whisper.

When he saw that her eyes were once again filling with tears, he shook her and then eased up on his fierce hold. "Your idea of chains has merit," he said, dragging her toward the privacy of the woods, "perhaps then you would stay where I put you."

Elizabeth was wise enough to know that silence would have been the best course of action at the moment, but could not help defending herself once again. "Geoffrey, if I had stayed an observer, your loyal vassal and my good friend, Roger, would be dead. Can you find no merit in my action?" she asked, ringing her hands in frustration and wishing she could ring his neck as well. "I am sorry if it was unseemly for me to kill those men with my arrows. I have never killed anyone before and I know I will burn in purgatory for at least a hundred years, but like it or not, I would do the same again." She started to cry again and hated herself for her weakness. It was just that he made her so mad! And she was so very tired. Dark was full upon them among the trees, and Elizabeth, in her haste to turn from his angry stare, stumbled over a stone. Geoffrey caught her and lifted her into his arms. She buried her face in his neck and tried to quit crying.

"What am I to do with you?" Geoffrey addressed the question to the top of her head. "Look at me," he commanded. When she complied, he continued, "In the space of one meager day, you have disobeyed me God knows how many times and openly admitted your disloyalty." He placed her on the ground, facing him, and then added, "I have killed men who have ventured less."

"I am not a man, I am your wife," Elizabeth replied, shrugging his hands off her shoulders.

"It is you who forgets that fact more often than I," Geoffrey retaliated. He turned from her and called to his squire, "We camp here for the night. See to my tent." Turning back to Elizabeth, he noticed that she trembled, and assumed it was due to the chill of the night. "You look like a drowned pup and your gown clings to you in an inappropriate manner. Find your cloak and cover yourself." His voice was as cold as her clothes, and Elizabeth found she no longer felt like crying. God's truth, she wanted to scream again!

She watched her husband walk away from her, barking orders as he moved toward his men, and shook her head. And I thought I understood him, she thought with despair. "Ha," she muttered aloud before sneezing once more. "I swear he is the most unreasonable, hardheaded, stubborn mule of a man that ever walked this earth," she ranted while she paced between the trees. "And to think I thought he would find merit in my deed! No, he finds no merit, for he has no mercy, no understanding, no love in his heart." The squeak of her waterlogged shoes seemed to underline each negative remark she made.

"Mistress?" Roger's voice intruded on her rantings and she was glad for it. She turned and saw that he held her cloak in his hands. "I imagine after your swim you have need for this," he said, his voice gentle.

She accepted the garment and wrapped it around her shoulders, grateful for its warmth. "I thank you for your thoughtfulness, Roger. And are you feeling well after your swim?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light. No need for the vassal to know how miserable she was feeling, she decided.

"I am," Roger replied. "Come now. Gerald has the Hawk's tent set up. I will find you some food and see you settled. I would think you quite exhausted after the day's events."

"I do find I am rather tired," Elizabeth admitted in a soft voice. She walked beside the knight toward the camp. Roger seemed agitated as they neared the group of soldiers, stopping several times to turn to her before resuming his silent walk again. Elizabeth knew the cause for his anxiety and finally placed her hand on his arm to gam his full attention. "Roger, you are glad that I helped to pull you from the water?" she began in a hesitant voice. She did not wait for him to answer before continuing on, "But at the same time you wish I had not contradicted my husband's orders. Is that not the way of your thinking? The reason for your frowns?"

Roger nodded and then spoke. "I am thankful to be alive and it was you who saved me. I owe you my life," he added in a fervent voice.

Elizabeth didn't quite know how to respond to his statement. If she agreed that she had indeed saved his life and he should be thankful, then she did not practice the virtue of humility, she considered. On the other hand, if she denied her deed, she wasn't being honest with him… or herself. Worse still, if she belittled the act and acted quite blase about the happening, then wouldn't she be telling the vassal that she placed little significance on his life? Humility be damned, she decided. "I would do it again, regardless of my husband's wrath. Please understand, Roger, your lord is not angry that you were saved; he is only displeased with my unseemly behavior. You must consider that he is unfamiliar with having a wife… and he is-"

"Do not trouble yourself explaining your husband to me," Roger replied, smiling. "He has already discussed the matter with me and he is most thankful that you were able to save me."

"He told you that?" The amazement was obvious in her voice. Then why has he carried on so? Elizabeth asked herself, though she dared not question the knight. It was not his place or his duty to instruct her in the ways and thoughts of her husband.

Roger took hold of Elizabeth 's elbow and bent his head toward hers. "They light the fires now. Come and stand close to one and warm yourself. You tremble with the cold."

"They risk a fire?" she asked as she followed the vassal through a group of soldiers. "Won't Rupert's men-"

"Do not concern yourself," Roger admonished in a quiet voice. "Your husband knows what he is about. You have only to trust him."

"Aye," Elizabeth immediately responded, embarrassed that she had asked the question of the knight.

There were perhaps ten or twelve soldiers circled around the fire as she and Roger edged up to the center, and Elizabeth noticed that each time she made eye contact with any of the men, they smiled and then lowered their gazes, as if in deference… or embarrassment. Elizabeth wasn't sure and found herself feeling very awkward and somewhat hurt by their attitude. It was another puzzle after a long day of puzzles and confusions. "My presence seems to intimidate the men," she whispered to Roger with an embarrassed little sigh.

"They are in awe," Roger whispered back, giving her elbow a little squeeze.

"Awe?"

"Your courage has shaken them," he said, smiling at the surprise in her eyes. "They have never known one such as you, for you are not like other women."

"And that is praise?" Elizabeth asked, smiling in return.

"Aye, it is," Roger explained. "You are a fitting bride for their leader," he proclaimed.

Their leader does not agree with you, Elizabeth thought. She glanced around, looking for her husband, but Roger's gentle tug on her elbow turned her thoughts back to him. From the look in his eyes, it appeared that he was not quite finished with his gratitude. "I am sorry that you placed yourself in such danger for my benefit, yet now that it is over and done with, I am glad. I will thank God each and every morning that you had the courage to do what you did." He chuckled when he saw the flush on her cheeks his praise caused, and added as a jest, "Why, I will even pray to the souls of your parents for having the foresight to see that you learned how to swim, since I was the one who benefited from their schooling." He was grinning with his last remark, and Elizabeth smiled again.

Geoffrey had walked up behind Elizabeth, as quietly as a panther stalking in the night, and found himself losing some of his anger with Roger's remarks. He was about to pull his wife into his arms and lead her to his tent when her words stopped his actions.

"I am afraid your prayers to my parents would only confuse them, Roger, for God's truth, I do not know how to swim yet. Though I tell you it does not appear to be overly difficult if you remember to hold your breath and-"

Geoffrey's bellow of rage jarred Elizabeth a good foot off the ground. She clutched at her heart and whirled around only to bump into her husband.

"Geoffrey! What is the matter?" Elizabeth could barely get the question out, so shaken was she by his scream.

"Do not say another word," Geoffrey rasped, "do not…" His anger was fresh as a new flower just bursting into bloom, and he felt he was close to being totally out of control, and if he could just get her into his tent, away from his men, perhaps then he could calm himself enough to merely throttle her.

Elizabeth was half-dragged, half-pulled into the small tent and then dropped like a sack of barley onto a blanket.

"Now what have I done?" Elizabeth asked, rubbing her arms where her husband had clenched her. "I will be black and blue and it will be from your hands, not the enemy, Geoffrey. You do not know your own strength, I think," she ended.

Geoffrey did not immediately respond. He took his time lighting two candles and sat down crossed-legged in front of her. When Elizabeth got a glimpse of his face, she wished she had the nerve to blow the candles out. Oh, but he was furious, the tendon pulsating in his neck was testimony to that fact, and Elizabeth was good and sick of it. She backed up a space, until her shoulders were touching the side of the tent, and readied herself for his yells.

"You will answer my questions with a simple yes or no, Elizabeth," her husband began. She was surprised by his soft, almost gentle tone of voice, though she detected a small tremor in it and looked up at him. Now, what is his game? she asked herself; he was clearly near the brink of exploding, as far as she could discern.

"Geoffrey, I would-"

"A simple yes or no," Geoffrey insisted, snapping each word out.

Elizabeth nodded her agreement and waited. She watched her husband take several long shuddering breaths and then rest the palms of his huge hands on his knees. She thought she saw his hands tremble before he braced them against himself, but discounted that notion and forced her gaze back to his face.

"I could not help but overhear your conversation with Roger," Geoffrey began, his tone deceptively mild, "but I may be mistaken. And I am always a reasonable man. Yet I could have sworn on William's sword that I heard you tell Roger that you did not know how to swim." His voice had risen in intensity, and when Elizabeth, trying to ward off another screaming match, opened her mouth to answer, Geoffrey reached out and clamped one hand over it. "Now you will answer me. Do you know how to swim?"

Since he continued to hold his hand over her mouth, Elizabeth could only shake her head, and that small gesture of denial upset her husband yet again.

"You jumped into the water knowing you did not know how to swim?" he asked, his voice incredulous now.

"I held the rope and I-"

"A simple yes or no." Geoffrey roared the order in a voice that shook the tent.

There is nothing simple about my actions, Elizabeth longed to say. But there was no reasoning with him, she decided. Since he does not wish to hear the whole truth, then let him be upset. "Yes," she said as she folded her hands in her lap.

A loud cough from outside the tent turned Geoffrey's attention from Elizabeth. "Enter," he yelled, louder than he had intended.

Roger lifted the flap of the tent with one hand while he balanced a wooden tray with the other. Without a word, he placed the tray on the floor between Geoffrey and Elizabeth and withdrew to the outside.

Slices of freshly cooked meat, hard crusts of bread, and orange berries filled the tray to overflowing, but neither husband nor wife made a move to touch the fare. Roger reappeared with a single cup and a leather pouch filled with water or wine, Elizabeth surmised. She looked up at the vassal and smiled but Roger did not glance her way and did not see it.

"Thank you, Roger," Elizabeth said when he turned to leave the tent. Though he did not respond with an answer, Elizabeth saw the slight nod.

"You do not thank a vassal for doing his duty," Geoffrey muttered. He took a large chunk of bread, tore it in half, and handed a portion to Elizabeth.

"Why is that?" Elizabeth asked as she accepted his offering. "He has done a kindness. It is only proper to thank him."

"It is not. He does his duty, wife. All of us have duties, obligations… it is the way of things," he stated emphatically. "By thanking him, you imply that perhaps there are times when he does not do his duty to your satisfaction. To counter that, you would have to say thank you each and every time an act is performed in your behalf."

"That is why I have never heard you say thank you or give any praise to your men… or to me!" Elizabeth frowned and could not resist adding, "You boast that you are a reasonable man and yet what you have just said makes no sense to me. To be grateful and to tell of your gratitude is not a weakness, Geoffrey," Elizabeth pointed out in a soft voice. "And the weak shall inherit the earth," she quoted from memory, giving support from the Church for her argument.

"Meek!" Geoffrey bellowed. "It is the meek who shall inherit the earth, woman. I am neither weak nor meek and I do not have any desire to inherit the earth."

"I did not mean to imply that you were," Elizabeth protested. "I merely stated that-"

"Enough! Do not lecture me on what you know nothing about. God's truth, I have run out of patience with you. You have run me in circles since the day I met you and I will not have it. My life is ruled by discipline. Discipline! I know that word is foreign to your nature but I vow it will not be for long. Erratic actions, unplanned responses… these things can be deadly. Had I not happened on you this day, you would most probably be in Rupert's hands now. Have you considered that?" he asked. Yet before Elizabeth could consider her answer, Geoffrey asked another question of her. "Where would you be now if the soldier holding the other end of your rope had been slain?"

"You wish me to tell you that I have acted most foolish?" Elizabeth asked, her voice low.

"I do not need to hear you voice what I already know," Geoffrey corrected. "I'll tell you this, wife. Your action with Roger… it was an act of courage on your part. Yet the other, your decision to be disloyal to me…" Geoffrey shook his head and then added, "It is unforgivable."

His voice was flat, and Elizabeth felt as if a sentence had just been pronounced on her future. Confusion clouded her thoughts. If her action was unforgivable, then what future did she have with Geoffrey?

"I have admitted to you that I was going to Rupert but that I changed my mind because it would have been disloyal to you," Elizabeth responded. "And you find that action unforgivable?"

"I do," Geoffrey argued. "You became disloyal the moment you left Montwright."

"Perhaps you are right," Elizabeth answered. "Though I would not admit it to myself until after the deed was done. Then I turned around and was headed home when you chanced upon me."

"It makes little difference to me when you acknowledged your disloyalty," Geoffrey answered, his voice harsh.

"And you cannot find forgiveness in your heart?" Elizabeth asked. She felt shame that she had hurt him, knew that she had, though he would never admit it, and at the same time, nurtured a deep anger that he was so unbending in his reasoning.

"I do not know," Geoffrey admitted. "This has never happened before. Few have been disloyal to me and those that have I have killed. I have never allowed a soldier to be in my surroundings after such a foul deed."

"Then how shall we go on?" she asked, trying to keep her voice as devoid of emotion as her husband.

"The past cannot be changed," Geoffrey said. "You will learn your duties as my wife but will not have my council," he decided. "Your first duty… aye, your only duty will be to give me sons."

"Has it not occurred to you that I could have lied to you about my reasons for going to Rupert?" Elizabeth challenged. "I could have told you that I was going to visit him and offer my comfort."

"I would have seen through your lies," Geoffrey answered, frowning.

"By being completely honest with you, I have doomed this marriage," Elizabeth replied. "Is that the way of it?"

"I do not know. I must think on this. I do not act in a rash manner like you."

"While you are thinking, consider this," Elizabeth said, letting the anger spill out in her voice. "You have said you cannot forgive me. Now I tell you that I cannot forgive you. I gave you all my love, knowing full well you did not return the affection. I gave you my understanding, when you have exhibited none. I have admitted that my vow of trust to you wavered, but only because of another vow-foolish and vengeful though it was-made before. I gave you my body and my future, my honesty and my heart, and you talk of duty and discipline. You reject all I have to offer and demand what I most lack. Well, from this moment on, you shall have your discipline and your duty. I shall keep my love in my heart and not share the joy of it with you. I do not know if I can keep from loving you, but God's truth, I will try. You are a most unlovable man, Geoffrey, and I will remind myself of that fact in my daily litany. If you decide to forgive me," Elizabeth said in a derisive voice, "then perhaps I will decide to forgive you for belittling all I have given to you."

"So be it," Geoffrey answered, as angry now as she. "Give me only what I ask, and we will do well with each other. Save the love and affection for our children. I do not need it."

The saints were in sympathy, Elizabeth decided, for they nudged Geoffrey from the tent before she began to cry. She did not want him to see how hurt she was, how broken in spirit and motive. Her tears would just show him another weakness, another lack in her character. Until she had met Geoffrey, she had had no idea how many flaws permeated her being. Always she had been taught to look for the good in people, accept the flaws. Geoffrey had obviously been taught just the reverse. Find the flaw and attack… was that his way of thinking? she asked herself. She was too tired to consider her position now, too drained physically and emotionally. She pulled the wet garments from her body and draped them over the rope across the top of the tent while she tried to clear her mind of her torment. Wrapping herself in her cape, she huddled against the pallet and cried herself to sleep.