Elizabeth stood up and began to brush the dirt from her skirt. “I made those,” she boasted, “once my grandfather showed me the way. They are most effective, are they not?”
“That they are, though too puny for a knight to carry,” Geoffrey said.
Elizabeth handed Geoffrey her dagger and then knelt down beside him. She began to arrange the twigs in a circular stack and then asked, “How old were you when you went to the king? Did you become his page?”
“One of many,” Geoffrey answered. “I was six, maybe seven years old.”
“Six! But that is too young. You must be at least eight years old to become a page, is that not so?” She sat back on her heels and frowned.
“Aye, that is usually the way,” Geoffrey acknowledged, “though some leave their homes by the age of seven. In my case, there was no one else, save the king, and he was a close friend of my father’s.”
“Tell me about your parents. Do you remember what they looked like?” she asked.
“No, I do not remember,” Geoffrey answered in a gruff voice. He seemed irritated by her question and Elizabeth wondered at his reasoning. “Now quit your chatter and see to my food,” he ordered.
They did not say another word until the meat was cooked and eaten. Geoffrey ate most of the game and Elizabeth was content to nibble on one of the roasted legs.
Geoffrey removed a small sheep’s skin from his saddle and offered Elizabeth a drink. Thinking it filled with water, Elizabeth took a large swallow and promptly choked. Geoffrey grabbed her by the shoulders and began to whack her on her shoulders and she didn’t know which was worse, to die from lack of clean air, or from being beaten to death.
“Always in a hurry,” Geoffrey snapped when she had stopped coughing and could hear him. “It is amazing that you have lasted this long.” He shook his head and then decided to shake her too.
“I thought it was water,” Elizabeth said in her defense. “And I was thirsty. And you have probably made my shoulders black and blue with your help.”
“Your face is still bright red,” Geoffrey said, ignoring her sarcasm. Why, he had barely tapped her between her shoulder blades, but then he had come to realize that his wife tended to exaggerate. It was a fault he would have to tolerate. “Come and sit down,” he said, hauling her up into his arms.
He lifted her high into the air and then pretended that he was about to drop her to the ground, but his wife was not amused by his play, only glared at him and held on tighter.
He sat down and leaned against the tree, holding her in his arms. Elizabeth rested her head against his shoulder with a sigh. For long minutes they were content to keep their silence, each thinking his own thoughts.
Now is the time for me to bring up the subject of Belwain, Elizabeth thought. His mood is light and perhaps he will be more receptive to telling me his plans.
“Your brother will go to the king to be his page. I have not decided on the time yet. Perhaps in the fall.”
His statement jarred Elizabeth and she spoke before thinking, “You would not! He is still a baby. And I have heard terrible stories about the king. I will not allow it.” She knew as soon as she said the rash words that her husband was not pleased. She felt him tense beneath her. His arms tightened around her.
Before he could answer her, Elizabeth said, “I know I cannot allow or disallow, but I cannot believe that you would do such a cruel thing. Surely you jest?” Her voice was soft and hopefully sincere. She lifted her head and looked at him, tracing a finger along the wrinkle on his brow his frown caused. “Being his guardian now, I feel this responsibility, and since he is so much younger than I—”
“Elizabeth,” Geoffrey said her name as a sigh, “I am the boy’s guardian now that I am your husband, and I am also his overlord in future. Now what nonsense is this about the king? You should be proud that your brother will join his court. Don’t you know the honor I bestow upon him?” He removed her hand from his brow and held it against his chest. Her touch had an unsettling effect on his senses and he needed to be clearheaded when dealing with his argumentative wife.
Elizabeth nodded while her mind sought a way to make him understand her position.
“What stories have you heard about William?” he asked with mild interest. He pulled her back against him and began to rub the goosebumps from her arms.
“He has a terrible temper and is not of a forgiving nature,” Elizabeth said. “I do not want my little brother placed in such harsh conditions. He has been through too much already.”
“There are those who say I have a terrible temper, Elizabeth, and yet you do not seem afraid.” He chuckled with his statement, secretly pleased that she had never shown fear of him.
“But they do not know you as I do,” Elizabeth stammered, “and you are reasonable. You said so yourself. But King William—”
“Yes?” Geoffrey encouraged when she did not finish her sentence. “King William what?”
“Have you not heard of the town of Alençon?” Elizabeth whispered. She closed her eyes and waited for his answer.
“Ah, Alençon. But that was a long time ago, when William was young and rash and intent on gaining his rightful title,” Geoffrey explained.
“Then it is true? He actually became crazed when some fool called him bastard and truly cut off the feet and the hands of sixty men? It is really true?”
“No, it is not true,” Geoffrey corrected, and Elizabeth felt a wave of relief. “There were but thirty-two of them, not sixty.”
“What! He really did such a terrible thing?” She was so aghast that she almost fell off his lap, as much from the knowledge that the story was indeed true as from the blasé way her husband confirmed it. Why, he acted as if they were discussing chickens or rabbits instead of men.
“It was a long time ago,” Geoffrey replied with a shrug. “He holds his temper better now.”
“God be praised,” Elizabeth muttered. “And you would send little Thomas into his care?”
“Do not upset yourself. We will wait until the boy is older and then I will decide what is to be done. How old is he now?”
“Four.” Elizabeth blurted out the lie, thinking he might believe her, as her little brother was on the short side.
“More like seven,” Geoffrey stated. “Do not lie to me. Ever.”
“I did not lie, only exaggerated,” Elizabeth replied. She leaned back against him, the top of her head just under his chin, and had a sudden thought. “He could live with us. There is so much you could teach him, Geoffrey,” she said, hoping to stroke his ego into seeing her reasoning. “That would be an honor for him to become your page, as you are a—”
“Enough,” Geoffrey groaned. “Your praise has a purpose, wife. I am not so simpleminded that I do not see what you are about. I have promised to wait to make my decision. That will have to satisfy you for the moment.”
“As you wish,” Elizabeth answered in a demure voice. He couldn’t see her face, so he missed the smile of victory. Oh, how easy it was to deal with him, she concluded. He really is a reasonable man. “And now perhaps you feel inclined to talk with me about Belwain?” she asked in a soft voice.
“I do not wish to ruin our pleasant morning,” Geoffrey said with a sigh.
“But you promised to tell me what you planned, and I gave you my trust. I did not try to kill my uncle. I held my word,” Elizabeth reminded her husband.
“Still, having you so docile and affectionate . . . Very well, I will tell you and you will become angry. It is your right to know—”
“You are stalling, Geoffrey,” Elizabeth said. She turned in his arms and placed her hands against the sides of his face. “I will continue to be affectionate, for I can be no other way with you. And I will always have faith in you,” she whispered. It was true, she admitted with a nod, she did have faith in her husband. He was a righteous man.
Geoffrey read the trust in her eyes and made a gruff sound in his throat. He pulled her hands away, hoping his action would stop
the heat building between them. “There were three possibilities I could act on,” he said. “The first was, of course, the most simple and perhaps the one you would approve of: I could kill Belwain and be done with it. But,” he said in a louder voice when he saw she was about to interrupt, “then I would not know if he acted alone. We both agree he does not have the intelligence to plan such a well-designed attack and therefore know that there is at least one other just as responsible. Therefore, I ruled out the first possibility.”
“Why didn’t you just force Belwain to tell you what you wanted to know?” Elizabeth asked.
“If you knew that admitting to a crime would mean your death, would you not keep your silence?” Geoffrey asked. He didn’t wait for her answer but continued in a patient voice, “He knows my reputation. No, he would never have admitted his part, even if tortured.”
“And the second possibility?” Elizabeth asked, frowning.
“To place the matter before William, challenge Belwain for the truth in court.”
Elizabeth was already shaking her head before Geoffrey could explain. He stopped her with his hands and said, “I did not choose that possibility for two reasons. One, I do not wish to bring my petty problems to my overlord. It is my duty to deal with my vassals. William has much on his mind these days,” he said, “trying to keep peace in his kingdom and his household too. It is a melancholy time for him,” he added. “And two,” he continued, “there is the chance that Belwain and his friends, his witnesses, just might convince the king that he had nothing to do with the murders of your family. Then the boy would have to go into his guardianship. It is a risk I do not wish to take.”
“But the king would listen to you,” Elizabeth argued. “Though I admire your decision not to place the problem before him,” she hurried to add, in case she irritated him. He was being most informative and she did not wish to stop his train of thought. “Belwain deserves death, but not at the king’s hands,” she couldn’t help but add.
“Elizabeth,” Geoffrey said her name with a weary sigh. “You have but a single purpose and do not know what you are talking about. It is not the king’s way to kill anyone these days.”
“I do not understand, I admit it,” Elizabeth answered, frowning. “What does he do when one is found guilty of some terrible crime if he does not kill them?” she asked with simple logic.
“He does not believe in such harsh action and has not put a man to death since Earl Waltheof.”
“Then what does he do?” Elizabeth asked. “Pat them on the back and send them on their way to do more harm?”
“Hardly that,” Geoffrey answered. “His methods are just as harsh as death, to my way of thinking. It is the usual custom to cut off their limbs or put their eyes out. Sometimes the punishment kills the guilty, other times not, but I imagine they wish themselves dead.”
Elizabeth trembled. She guided the talk back to what she wanted to know. “And the third choice?”
“To wait. I have decided to do nothing for the moment.” He took hold of her hands in anticipation of her reaction.
Elizabeth frowned but did not otherwise react. Surely he would continue with his explanation, she thought.
Geoffrey waited for the explosion, surprised and somewhat relieved when it did not come. He had no wish to argue with her. He smiled at her and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I see you are learning patience, wife. That pleases me,” he praised. “And now I will tell you the rest of my plan.”
Elizabeth kept her somber expression but nodded, urging him with her intense gaze to get on with the telling. She wanted to understand and to agree with him, to find peace and have vengeance too; she found that placing the burden of punishment in his hands was not so very difficult.
“The soldier that you pointed out last night?” he began with a question and continued before she could respond. “He too has been allowed to leave. One of my men, his forty days of work for me completed, has joined Belwain’s group. He let it be known his duty to me was ended and that he was in need of extra coin. He will watch and listen and then report his findings to me.”
“Why didn’t you just force the soldier to tell you the truth?” Elizabeth asked.
“You suggest that I torture him, sweet wife?” he asked, smiling.
“Do not smile at me, Geoffrey. I am not normally such a vengeful person. But you were not there, you did not see them, what they did. I do not mean for you to torture the man, only make him tell you—”
“You are right. It is no smiling matter, this.” He pulled her back into his arms and squeezed her. It was the closest he had ever come to saying he was sorry, and he decided that she would have to be content. He could give her no more.
“I accept your apology,” Elizabeth said. Her expression was still serious. Geoffrey started to tell her that he had not actually apologized but decided against it. She certainly could twist his words, he thought with some admiration.
She was looking directly into his eyes and Geoffrey read the innocent acceptance there. She has given me her loyalty, without question or much argument. And God help me, I will not fail her. In such a short time she has turned my world upside down and sideways too with her very existence; he would accept the responsibility she trusted him with, just as he had already accepted her as his wife. He refused to ponder the reasons for his feelings, knowing that if he did, he would have to admit to feelings and emotions he thought long ago dead.
“But what is your plan for Belwain?” she asked.
“I have told it,” Geoffrey said. “I am going to wait.”
“Geoffrey, I am trying to see your reason,” Elizabeth said with irritation. “But getting you to explain to my satisfaction is the same as trying to pull a tooth, I swear it.”
Geoffrey felt he had told her enough. As far as Belwain was concerned, it was his plan to let him be for the time. She did not need to know that he was setting a trap for the other, and when the trap was closed, Belwain would be named as accomplice. It was too soon to tell her. She would have to wait.
“Have patience a while longer,” Geoffrey tried to soothe. “Proof will—”
“Will what?” Elizabeth said, struggling out of his arms. “Pop up in front of you like the flowers of spring?” She stood and turned her back on him. “It could be years before such proof is found unless you look for it. You put all your hopes in one man, this soldier you sent off with Belwain’s men. And that is not enough. I made a promise, aye,” she yelled, “a vow, to avenge my family and I will see it through.”
“You will do nothing,” Geoffrey commanded. He came to his feet in one bound and grabbed her by her shoulders. “I will have your word. Leave this business to me.” He was yelling again, infuriated for the second time in the space of one morning’s time. It was more than any man should tolerate, he decided. She would know her place in this matter.
“I will not give it.” Her defiance was like a piece of dry wood thrown on top of his sparks of fury, and an explosion was the only possible outcome.
“You will,” he bellowed, “and you will not see food or water until you realize that fact.” The way she stood, facing him with her defiance, her small hands balled into tight fists and resting on her hips, both amazed and incensed him. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders, yet she thought she could glare him into her way of thinking.
He pulled her roughly into his arms and all but threw her on top of her mare.
Elizabeth struggled to right herself, and when she was done, she stared straight ahead. “Then you will soon be a widower, my lord,” she yelled. Her voice trembled with conviction. “I will starve to death before I give a promise I cannot keep. My word is my honor.”
“You have the audacity to imply that mine is not?” Geoffrey demanded in another roar that made her mare prance with fright.
He will soon go hoarse if he continues to scream and yell at me, she thought, and then decided that that was not so very terrible at all. It would do him good to lose his voice as pe
nance, and give her ringing ears some quiet.
“I would challenge a man for such foolish words.”
“Then challenge me,” Elizabeth snapped.
“Enough! Do not speak to me,” he said. “And do not raise your voice to me ever again!”
Do not do this, do not do that . . . always he orders, and I am truly sick of it. He has no understanding, no sympathy for my feelings. No, she thought with despair, he cannot see my torment, else he would not demand that I wait.
Geoffrey slapped the back of her horse and then followed behind her. Elizabeth never looked back during the ride to the manor. There must be something I can do, she thought, trying to think of a plan. Something . . . someone I can turn to . . .
Chapter Nine
EVERYONE TRIED TO INTERFERE. EVEN THE SERVANTS, Geoffrey thought with exasperation. He should have been angry over their disregard for his orders, but found that he was not.
Two grim weeks had passed, and Geoffrey was ready to call a truce—yes, he admitted without shame, even to concede defeat. He would welcome it just to glimpse one small smile from his wife.
His every thought concerned her, he realized as he walked into the great hall. There were several servants busy cleaning the area, and two of his loyal knights sat, drinking from cups at the table. He walked over and sat in the chair he had used when he assumed the role of judge, placed next to the hearth, and waited. He was conditioned to what was happening around him, and sat there without expression until one and all had fled the room on missions they just then remembered. Aye, even my knights desert me, Geoffrey thought. But he was smiling; he knew the reason for their vanishing act. They feared him. It was true, and it did not displease him overly. It was a fact that he had been known to blow his temper on occasion . . . but what man, pushed to his limit of endurance, would not? he asked himself.
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