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."