Everyone laughed uproariously at the knight’s pain and from then on it was more a chase than a dance. For Elizabeth it was a nightmare come true. She was back in her brother’s house and his men were pursuing her. She forgot about the last months of freedom but regressed to a time when she had to survive.
On her toes, she whirled about a knight and lifted his sword from his belt. With garments flying, hair tangling about her body, she dodged at the men trying to catch her. She didn’t hurt any of them but she managed to draw blood now and again. Forcing herself to laugh and keep up the charade of dancing, she jumped atop a table set with food, kicking plates and goblets everywhere. When a knight’s hand touched her ankle, she moved away, her heel “accidentally” coming down on his fingers. He went away with a cry of pain.
Elizabeth’s nerves were at the breaking point as the men began to clap in rhythm. Bending, she turned her hair around and around in time to their applause. Hoping that by now Roger and Miles had had time to release their captive, she threw her skirts high, the men cheering at the sight of her legs, and leaped to the ground directly in front of the old man.
She landed in a low bow before him, head low, hair a curtain about her. Panting, sides heaving, she waited.
With great ceremony, the man rose and put one bony hand under Elizabeth’s chin, lifting her face to meet his.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth could see that the girl was gone and now it would be only moments before someone noticed.
Elizabeth rose and, praying for more time, hoping to distract the men, shrugged her shoulders and let the top of her dress fall away to her waist.
There was a great hush among the people, almost all of whom were behind her. The old man’s eyes greedily roamed over her exquisite, high, firm breasts. Then, with a smile showing blackened teeth, he removed his own heavy cloak and put it about Elizabeth’s shoulders.
Holding onto the ties in a degrading manner, he began to pull Elizabeth into the darkness of the forest.
Concealed in her hand was a knife she’d taken from one of the knights. As the old man turned, he saw that the bound girl was gone, but before he could call out, Elizabeth moved forward, caught his earlobe between her teeth, pressed the knife to his ribs and growled, “Walk!”
They were enveloped in the darkness before the cry was given that the prisoner had escaped.
“Run!” Elizabeth commanded the old man, pushing on the knife.
Quickly, he turned and backhanded Elizabeth across the face.
But before he could move, Roger leaped from the trees, his big hands around the old man’s throat. Perhaps it was the surprise or the excitement of Elizabeth’s dance, but Roger barely touched him and the ugly old man fell dead at their feet.
Roger lost no time but caught Elizabeth’s waist and shoved her up into a tree.
Knights swarmed across the ground under them, their drawn swords glinting in the moonlight. Roger put his arms around Elizabeth and held her close, her head buried in his shoulder. She was trembling over her entire body and even now, in the safety of her brother’s arms, she could still feel the men’s hands clutching at her.
“Miles,” she whispered to Roger.
“Safe,” was all Roger’d say as he pressed her even closer.
They waited for some time, through all the hue and cry of finding the old man dead. Finally, two knights carried the body back to the camp and the search for the girl seemed to be ended as the men saddled horses and began to ride out.
Roger held Elizabeth a while after the forest was quiet.
“Come,” he commanded. “Montgomery waits for us.”
Roger climbed down first, then caught Elizabeth, who still wore the old man’s cloak. The velvet swirling about her, she ran after Roger through the cold, damp forest.
Elizabeth hadn’t realized how worried she’d been about Miles’s safety until she saw him again. He emerged from a stagnant pond, holding the hand of the girl. Both of them were wet, slimy, and the girl’s teeth were chattering.
After one grateful look at Miles for his safety, Elizabeth removed the old man’s cloak and put it around the girl’s shoulders.
“It is his!” Christiana said, stepping away from the cloak as if it were evil.
Roger caught the cloak, tossed it back to Elizabeth and removed his own doublet, wrapping the girl in it. She melted into Roger’s arms as if she were part of his skin.
“We must go,” Miles said, taking Elizabeth’s hand. “They’ll be back for her soon.”
They traveled all night. Elizabeth knew she was past exhaustion but she kept going, sometimes stealing looks at the girl who’d caused this flight. Wearing Roger’s doublet, which dwarfed her, she looked even younger and more fragile than she first appeared. She was never more than an inch or two from Roger’s side even though sometimes branches hit her face. As for Roger, he didn’t seem to want her any farther away.
Elizabeth hardly looked at Miles because his eyes blazed with anger and a few times he threatened to crush her hand in his. Once, she tried to talk to him and explain why she’d had to disobey his orders and enter the rescue, but Miles looked at her with eyes blackened with rage, and Elizabeth practically crawled back inside the concealing cloak.
Toward morning, Miles said, “We’ll join the travelers on the road and we must get her some clothes.”