"Please open the gates," Elizabeth asked.
"We cannot, my lady," one of the men said.
"You cannot?" Elizabeth frowned and looked from one soldier to another.
"Our orders," the second explained. "From the Hawk."
"What order did my husband issue?" Elizabeth asked. She kept her tone pleasant and neutral.
"That you remain inside the walls," one of the guards answered in a hesitant voice. He did not like the frown that came upon his mistress's face and hoped that she wouldn't press him. He had no wish to upset her, though he would obey the Hawk's orders no matter what.
"So I am…" Elizabeth started to comment that she was a prisoner in her own home and caught herself in time. She would discuss this with her husband. It would be unseemly for her to make any comment, good or bad, to his guards. They were doing their duty for their lord. "Then you must follow your orders," she said, smiling.
Turning, she started back, wondering why such an order had been given. Did it apply to everyone or just her? Was her husband worried that she might try to leave? Return to the forest? Elizabeth could understand his unsureness of her up until yesterday evening. But last night she had given him her pledge. She had admitted that she belonged to him. She was his wife. Didn't he realize that her pledge was the same as a sacred vow to her? Shaking her head, Elizabeth decided not. Trust. It must be earned. And in time, she was sure she would gain his trust, his confidence.
And how sure of him am I? Elizabeth asked herself. Do I trust him? She thought that she did, knew that he was an honest man. He had dealt well with her father, she remembered. And her father had called him a fair man. High praise from one who was as frugal with his praise as he was with his coins.
Elizabeth admitted that her knowledge of her husband was quite limited. She knew nothing of how he dealt with women, how he would treat a wife.
A blur in the sky caught her attention. Elizabeth glanced up and saw her hawk circling, and without so much as a second thought for her audience, she extended her arm and waited. She was so intent on watching her pet descend that she didn't notice the hush that came over the group, or see the startled, disbelieving expressions.
The hawk landed on Elizabeth's arm and met her stare with a loud gargle of greeting. Elizabeth noticed that her pet was full-breasted from a recent meal and whispered words of praise for his hunting ability.
The hawk increased his gargling and then suddenly began to flap his wings with distress. "I hear him too," Elizabeth whispered, for the sound of approaching horse and rider was growing closer. Her voice soothed the hawk and the flapping ceased. Elizabeth looked up and saw her husband, sitting on his horse, watching her. Her dogs flanked the stallion's sides, their breathing labored from their run. Knowing how nervous the hawk became whenever the dogs were about, Elizabeth took mercy on her pet and commanded, "Go." The hawk immediately left its soft perch and took to the air.
Elizabeth lifted the hem of her gown and started toward her husband, intent on asking him to spare her a few minutes. She focused on the hard line of his mouth, remembering his lovemaking, and wondered what he was thinking. She could feel the soldiers staring at her and realized from their gaping expressions that she had made a spectacle of herself with her pet hawk. She felt embarrassed that she had drawn so much attention. Keeping her eyes firmly on her husband's features, she continued her slow, dignified pace.
The cheer caught her by surprise. Startled, she turned to see what the commotion was all about. They were still staring at her. And they were yelling. Had they all gone daft? She looked back to her husband for an answer, but his face was a mask as he watched her.
It was Roger who gave her an explanation. He came up behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder, saw her husband's scowl, and quickly removed it. "They honor the Hawk… your husband," he said, "and cheer the Hawk's mistress. You are worthy, my lady."
"But they do not realize. The hawk is my pet," she said, looking to the sky. "I have raised it from—"
"It does not matter," Roger interrupted, smiling. "The hawk has his freedom and still he returns. It is because you are worthy."
It is because they are all silly, superstitious men, Elizabeth thought. And of what am I worthy? Being wife to Baron Geoffrey, she supposed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her husband dismount and start toward her. So he was finally going to acknowledge her, Elizabeth thought with irritation. She suppressed the feeling and turned from Roger to smile at her husband. He must have a considerable amount on his mind, and she needed to burden him further with matters concerning her brother and herself. There wasn't any place for irritation. Besides, Elizabeth admitted, it was a childish reaction. And she was no longer a child, but a woman, a wife.
She was the first to speak. "Good morning, my lord." She gave a small curtsy as she spoke and then started forward, about to lean up and place a chaste kiss on his cheek as her mother had done whenever she greeted Elizabeth's father, but his frown canceled her intent. It was as if he had read her aim and did not wish the contact.
Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow warm from the subtle rejection. She also felt awkward. She took her gaze from his, embarrassed, and noticed the dogs. Instinctively she patted her side with one hand, a silent command she used to bring her dogs to her sides. The dogs ignored her and continued to hover next to her husband, nudging him for attention. Their switch in allegiance was the last straw. She felt like screaming. And what would her husband think of that? she asked herself. To make such a scene in front of his knights… why, she doubted that he would ever live it down. Not that she would ever cause such a scene; she had far too much pride and dignity. Still, it was an amusing fantasy, and it did help to lighten her humiliation.
Geoffrey was speaking to Roger. Elizabeth waited as patiently as possible for him to finish his orders and give his attention to her. She noticed that the longer her husband spoke, the harder Roger scowled. What was causing his change in mood? She moved forward again so that she could hear her husband's conversation.
"How many ride with him?" Roger asked her husband.
"No more than fifty, according to Riles," Geoffrey answered.
They both looked so intent, and then Geoffrey turned his gaze to her, and in that instant, she knew. Even as the realization hit, the sounds of thunder in the distance, thunder from the hooves of hard-ridden horses, came to her ears. Belwain was coming!
All color drained from her face. Instinctively her hand went to her waist, to the sheath containing her dagger. She pulled the weapon free, holding it so firmly that the handle felt like it was a part of her hand. The wildness in her eyes mirrored her thoughts. I must find Thomas. I have to hide him. Where is he?
Geoffrey watched the transformation in his wife with a heavy heart. He longed to take her into his arms and offer comfort, to soothe the wildness in her gaze, to heal the injury. But he could not. And she would have more torment before the day was out.
Elizabeth turned, her destination unknown, her only thought to find her brother. Find and protect. She seemed to forget the dagger in her hand and that her husband was even present.
Geoffrey placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. "Do not do this," he said in a soft voice.
Elizabeth stepped back and broke the hold. She tried to walk around her husband but he moved and blocked her path.
"I must find Thomas," she explained in a hard voice. "Do not stop me."
"Go to our bedroom and wait," Geoffrey ordered. Elizabeth began shaking her head but Geoffrey ignored her refusal. "I will send your brother to you."
"Now? You will send him to me now? Before Belwain sees him?" she asked. The desperation in her voice washed over Geoffrey like liquid sun, like the sand from the vats, scorching him with her grief and terror.
"Roger," Geoffrey said, never taking his gaze from his wife, "the boy is in the tanner's hut. Take him to Elizabeth's room."
"Aye, my lord," Roger replied. He turned and headed toward the hut at a fast pa
ce.
Elizabeth stared after Roger until she felt Geoffrey's hand on hers. Looking down, she watched almost as a third person, as her husband pried her fingers loose, one by one, from the dagger. Only when he had possession of it did she react. "I must have my dagger…"
"You will not need it. You will stay in our room." His order was hard. He pulled her to him, held her secure with one arm, and lifted her chin with his other. "I will have your word on this, Elizabeth."
"And you would believe my word?" Elizabeth asked. She was trembling and knew her husband could feel it.
"I have no reason to doubt you," Geoffrey countered, looking deep into her eyes.
"I do not know if I can give it," Elizabeth answered. "First you must tell me what you will do with Belwain."
Geoffrey was not angered by her order as he could well understand her hesitancy. "I need not explain my actions to you, wife. Remember that." He softened his tone and added, "Trust me."
"And if I do not?" Elizabeth asked.
"Then I will post guards and lock you in our room," Geoffrey answered. "Until I talk with your uncle, hear his side—"
"He has no side, only lies," Elizabeth said.
"Enough! I will have your word."
"Aye, husband. I will give you my word. I will wait until you have spoken with Belwain." She relaxed in his hold but her gaze continued to be defiant. "But hear me well, husband. I will trust you in this matter. And if you do not deal with Belwain, then I will."
"Elizabeth!" Geoffrey raised his voice and felt like shaking her into understanding his position. "Do not threaten me. Your uncle will have a fair hearing. It is William's law I follow. To hear all sides of an issue before rendering judgment. And you will abide by my decision."
Elizabeth could not answer him. She knew in her heart that she would be unable to accept any decision other than total guilt for her uncle. Yet she did not voice this admission because she believed that Geoffrey would find in her favor. He believed her, had said as much when they talked at the waterfall and she told him what had happened.
"I will go to my room now," Elizabeth said, hoping to end the conversation.
Geoffrey decided not to press her. The approaching soldiers would be at the gates in bare minutes. Still, he did not wish to end the discussion in such a harsh manner. "I have promised to protect you and your brother. Remember that."
"Aye, husband," Elizabeth said. She kept her expression neutral and started toward the doors. When she reached the top step, she turned back to her husband, found that he watched her, and nodded. "I trust you, my lord." To herself, she added, Do not fail me.
* * *
Chapter Five
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As soon as Elizabeth was safely inside teh castle, Geoffrey turned his attention to the waiting men. "Harold, double the number on the walls," he said to one knight. To another he announced, "Only Belwain will be allowed entrance this day." Roger caught his glance and he stopped his orders while he watched the older knight carry little Thomas, like a sack of grain under his arm, toward the castle doors. Without turning back to his soldiers he said, "Send Belwain to me when he arrives. I will be waiting inside."
Geoffrey started toward the great hall when he was intercepted by his loyal squire, Gerald. He ignored him until he reached the handle to the heavy doors. Roger, finished with his duty of delivering the boy to his sister, almost collided with the eager squire, who had lunged ahead of his lord to open the door.
"Stay outside with the men," Geoffrey told the squire.
"I would stay near you, my lord," the squire argued, a worried frown on his freckled face.
"For what purpose?" Geoffrey asked.
"I would protect your back," the squire stated.
"That is my duty," Roger all but barked at the lad.
The reprimand had the desired effect on the squire. He seemed to shrink considerably before his lord's eyes. "You two believe that my back needs protecting?" Geoffrey asked.
"From what is being said, my lord," the squire answered before Roger could open his mouth.
"Then Roger will see to the task," Geoffrey announced. "Today you will protect my walls," he added. "Your duty is to watch and listen. And learn."
The disappointment of not being in on the interview with his new mistress's uncle showed on the squire's face but Geoffrey was in no mood to appease. He had too much on his mind. "Follow my orders without question, Gerald. There are no second chances if you are to become a knight. Is that understood?"
The squire placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. "Aye, my lord. I will follow your orders." He glanced up, saw the nod from his leader, and quickly turned to leave.
"He needs to learn to hold his tongue, that one does," Roger told Geoffrey as they walked side by side into the great hall.
"Aye, and to cover his emotions. But he is still young—only fifteen, if I remember. There is still time to mold him properly." Geoffrey smiled at Roger and then added, "He is quite skilled on the battlefield, always there to hand me whatever weapon I desire, seemingly fearless of injury to himself."
"But that is his duty," Roger protested.
"True, but he does it well, does he not?" he asked his companion.
"Aye, he does, and he is loyal," Roger admitted.
"Perhaps I will assign him to you, Roger," Geoffrey decided. "You could teach him much."
"No more than you, my lord," Roger stated. He sat down on the bench and leaned his elbows on the wooden table. The linen cloth had been removed and the scratches in the wood were visible. "Besides, the lad would drive me to the brink with his eagerness. I'm too old to waste what patience I have left."
Geoffrey chuckled. "You are not that much older than I, Roger. Do not give me such paltry excuses."
"If you order it, I will see to the boy's training," Roger conceded.
"I will not order it, my friend. The choice is yours. Think on it and advise me later."
"Think you Belwain responsible for the murders?" Roger asked, changing the subject.
Geoffrey's face lost its smile. He leaned against the table's edge and rubbed his chin in a thoughtful gesture. "I do not know," he said after a minute. "My wife believes him guilty."
"And so do the servants I spoke with," Roger added. "They all remember the argument the two brothers had and how Belwain made many loud threats."
"That is not enough to condemn a man," Geoffrey answered. "Foolish men say many things in anger that they later regret, and an angry tongue does not mean one is guilty. I will hear what he has to say before I decide."
"It would seem to me that he is the only one to gain from his brother's death."
"Not the only one," Geoffrey contradicted in a quiet voice. "There is another."
His scowl stopped Roger from asking more. He would have to be content to wait and see what happened. He had no doubt that his lord would get to the bottom of the riddle, find the one responsible. Having been in Geoffrey's service for so long, Roger had come to understand how his lord thought, how he reasoned. The Hawk was a careful man, given to logical inclinations, and did not make rash judgments. He believed in fairness and rarely based his decisions on hearsay. In truth, Roger acknowledged with pride, his lord was a fair and reasonable ruler.
Would his lord's reasoning be affected or influenced by his new wife? Roger considered. Geoffrey certainly was taken with her, Roger knew, though he tried mightily to act quite indifferent when she was about. But then Roger was also taken with her. No, whether it be his wife's family or not, Roger felt sure his lord would proceed as he always had in the past. He would not kill without just cause.
The door to the castle opened and both men turned. Two guards appeared at the entrance, a stranger between them. Belwain had arrived.
Geoffrey motioned to the guards and they quickly departed. Belwain, small in stature and elegantly dressed in peacock green and yellow, but with a wide girth, hesitated at the entrance to the hall. "I am Belwain Montwright," he finally
announced in a nasal whine. He dabbed at his nose with a lacy white handkerchief while he waited for a response.
Geoffrey stared at the man before him for a full minute before answering. "I am your baron," he said in a forceful voice. "You may enter."
The lord leaned against the wooden table again and watched his wife's uncle as he hurried into the room. The man was walking as though he was being hindered by an imaginary rope tied to both ankles. Geoffrey found Belwain's voice as offensive as his motions. It was high-pitched with a scratch attached to it.
There was absolutely no resemblance to Thomas Montwright, Geoffrey thought. He remembered Thomas as a tall, vibrant man. The younger brother, now kneeling before him, appeared to be an old woman in men's garb.
"I pledge you my fealty, my lord," Belwain said, one hand over his heart.
"Do not give me your pledge, for I will not accept it until I know what is in your mind. Stand!" The harshly ordered words had the appropriate effect. Belwain was suitably intimidated, Geoffrey decided. His eyes, glazed with terror, told Geoffrey that.
When Belwain was standing before him, Geoffrey said, "Many blame you for what happened here. You will now tell me what you know of this matter."
The uncle took several gulping breaths before answering. "I knew nothing of the attack, my lord. I heard of it only after the fact. As God is my witness, I had nothing to do with this. Nothing. Thomas was my brother. I loved him!"
"You have a strange way of mourning your brother," Geoffrey said. At Belwain's confused expression, Geoffrey continued, "It is proper to wear black, and you do not."
"I wore the best that I owned, to show honor for my dead brother," Belwain answered. "He liked colorful tunics," Belwain added, stroking the sleeve of one arm as he spoke.
Disgust welled up in Geoffrey's throat like burning bile. This was no man standing before him but a weakling. The lord kept his expression neutral, but found it a difficult task. To gain additional control, he turned and walked over to the hearth.