The battle was quickly done. Rupert was slain, by Roger's hand. Geoffrey was sorry for it, wishing it had been his blade that ended the traitor's life instead of his vassal's. He ordered the body stripped and saw the half-healed injury on Rupert's shoulder.
Elizabeth had slept through the commotion of the men leaving the camp. By the time she had awakened and dressed, Geoffrey and his men were already returning.
It was Roger who gave her the news of her brother-in-law's death. Elizabeth accepted the information without expression. She only nodded that she had heard and then prepared herself for her journey home. Never once did she glance about for her husband, though she knew that he was safe, listening to his booming voice, which was as huge as his body this morning as he ordered his men into haste.
Elizabeth continued to ignore him while she waited for her mare to be saddled. When Gerald had finished with the task, he helped her into the saddle and she told him thank you, the first words she had spoken all morning. No sooner had she reached for the reins than Geoffrey rode up beside her. He plucked her from her mount as effortlessly as he would a berry from a tree, and settled her in front of him on his stallion. "You ride with me," he stated in his arrogant tone. Then the shield was up, protecting her from the branches, and they were galloping through the woods.
Elizabeth tried to hold herself rigid so that she could touch him as little as possible, but after ten minutes her back protested. She gave up her discomfort and leaned back against her husband, ignoring the soft chuckle she heard. Not another word was spoken on the long ride back to Montwright. It was just as well, Elizabeth decided, as she used the time to sort her feelings out. There were decisions to be made, but as she went over and over the discussion of the previous evening, she found herself growing more and more confused.
She certainly had made a mess of things, she admitted, but her heart had been in the right place, hadn't it? Her motives, once she gave up her need for revenge, were innocent in gain.
You are a stubborn and unbending man, Elizabeth thought. Well, I will give you what you wish, she decided. I will become the kind of wife you seem to want.
It would take discipline on her part, but she was up to the challenge. No longer would she try to imitate her dear departed mother, no longer would she try to share a marriage such as her parents had. She would learn to be docile and unargumentative, for those two qualities seemed to be high on her husband's list of duties. God help her, she would even learn how to sew, though she had no patience for the task. She would give him all he asked, but not an ounce more. He does not need love or joy to make his life complete, so I will benefit him with neither. Elizabeth felt good and spiteful for a time and then realized how foolish she was behaving. How could she ever make her husband realize the happiness he was missing? By denying him what he has come to accept and enjoy, she countered. Do not show him the affection and joy of the past. He will soon miss the laughter shared, wouldn't he? Elizabeth frowned as she considered all the possibilities. What did she have to lose in her new quest?
she asked herself. She never had his love to begin with, did she?
Discipline and duty! His favorite lecture, she thought with a grimace. He would have me as obedient as a lap dog, eagerly awaiting a word of kindness or approval when his mood deigned it, just like a bone thrown to an anxious and hungry dog. Well, you shall have both discipline and duty, husband, and rue the day you made those demands. I can be as unbending as you are. It is time you learned a lesson, I think. Time indeed!
Elizabeth felt better with her new resolutions. She refused to address the issue of her disloyalty, knowing in her heart that she would start to cry again if she did. What she treasured most in others she now found tarnished within herself. And if she cried, Geoffrey would start to yell again, she admitted, and she frankly was not up to the ordeal this day.
She was not foolish enough to think that Geoffrey would quickly forgive her, but in time perhaps he would soften in his attitude. Until then she would try to give him what he most wished, and pray each and every day that he would see the errors of his ways. Perhaps she could help him with his realizations. Too much discipline and too much concern for duty…
surely he would tire of it.
Why do I bother? she asked herself. He is a most stubborn man. The answer was quick and honest. Whether she called him stubborn or unlovable, her heart belonged to him. Until death do us part, she thought, repeating the vow she had made to her husband. The question was, who would kill whom first?
Her thoughts returned to the present when the gates of Montwright opened wide for the troops. Elizabeth spotted Elslow standing with his hands on his hips, Thomas at his side. The look on her grandfather's face showed relief and expected anger. She should have left word for him, some sign of her intent, she thought, so that he would not have worried so. Of course, she argued with herself, had she left word, Elslow would have followed her.
Geoffrey slid off the stallion and lifted Elizabeth to the ground. "You have caused your grandfather needless concern. Go and make your apology," he said in a controlled voice.
Elizabeth nodded and turned to walk toward her grandfather. When she was a scant foot from him, she lifted her head and said, "I apologize for the worry I have caused you, Grandfather, and beg your forgiveness." She lowered her gaze then and waited for his response.
Elslow was so relieved when he sighted his granddaughter safe and sound in her husband's arms. But like a parent who has lost his child at the village fair and then found him again, the urge to both hug and smack tugged at him. "You have taken to bathing in the mud?" he asked instead, gaining time to calm his emotions.
Elizabeth quickly brushed the dirt from her bliaut before returning her gaze to her grandfather. Elslow was quick to see the sadness there, and he suddenly realized she hadn't returned safe after all. There was injury there, hidden inside, where it could do the most damage. And he would soon know who was the cause of such pain.
"Come and give this old man your embrace," Elslow requested in a soft, coaching voice.
"There is time for explanations later." He decided against questioning her at the present.
Elizabeth lifted her skirt and ran into his arms. "Can you forgive me, Grandfather?" she asked, squeezing him to her.
"Of course I forgive you," Elslow replied, patting the top of her head. "Go inside now and find clean clothing. Then you must see to your stubborn dogs. They have not touched food or water since you disappeared. Did I not know better, I would guess they were as worried about you as I was."
Elizabeth sighed and started toward the castle. Thomas grabbed hold of her hand and Elizabeth stopped to smile down at her little brother. It was all the encouragement he needed and he immediately launched into a gleeful interpretation of his grandfather's reaction to her disappearance. Elizabeth ignored him until he asked her if Geoffrey had beaten her. "He did not! Why would you think such a thing?" she asked, pulling him along with her.
"Grandfather said he should," the boy explained, clearly disappointed.
Elslow folded his arms across his chest and watched his granddaughter disappear behind the doors. He turned his anger loose and confronted Geoffrey, who had come up to stand beside him.
"What have you done to her?"
"
I
? What have
I
done to
her
?" Geoffrey's astonishment over Elslow's question undermined Elslow's thought that Geoffrey had been the one to cause Elizabeth such pain. "You should ask instead, what has
she
done to
me
! I tell you this, Elslow, at the rate she is going, I will be dead and buried before our first child is birthed."
"Tell me what has happened," Elslow demanded. "There is defeat in my granddaughter's eyes. I saw it and am concerned. Elizabeth is not one to give up easily. What has caused her this pain?"
"She causes her own pain," Geoffrey snapped, irritated by the interrogation. "She rushes off to see Rupert, having no idea of the danger-"
"She did not! Why, she would have-" Elslow interrupted.
Geoffrey began to walk toward the castle. "I know. I know. She had no idea he was behind the murders, and then she jumped into a lake to save my vassal and had the gall to admit after the deed that she cannot swim. Now tell me, Elslow, would you fault me for beating her?"
Elslow, pacing himself beside the warrior, answered with a swift denial. "I would not. Why, I think I would even help you."
Both men exchanged a look that admitted the truth, and they began to laugh. "Neither of us could lift a hand to harm her," Elslow said.
"You must know this also," Geoffrey said, growing serious. "I was most difficult with her, even accused her of disloyalty, and I plan to keep after her with my harsh manner until she learns a little restraint. Restraint and discipline. It is the only way I can think of to keep her alive, Elslow. I have no wish to train another wife," he ended.
"And did she do it?" Elslow suddenly asked.
"Do what?"
"Save the vassal."
"Aye, she did it."
"I did not doubt it for a second," Elslow said with a gleam in his eyes.
"You have missed the point, old man," Geoffrey snapped with irritation.
"Without restraint and discipline?"
"What say you?" Geoffrey asked suspiciously.
"She saved the vassal without restraint or discipline?"
"Elslow, do not bait me! I am thinking of your granddaughter's safety. She must learn caution."
"You must do what you think best," Elslow stated.
"Aye. Though I promise to use a gentle hand in guiding her," Geoffrey stated very matter-of factly. "It is not so easy to break a habit of long standing without running the risk of breaking the spirit as well. She has been given free rein and allowed to run wild. All that must change."
"Are we discussing my granddaughter or one of your horses?" Elslow inquired with an ironic tone.
"I will do as I think best," Geoffrey stated, ignoring his barb. "I do not wish to lose her."
It was as much as he would admit. Elslow was astute enough to realize that. He nodded and swiftly changed the subject, asking for the details concerning the battle with Rupert.
Geoffrey was much more responsive to that subject and told in great detail the strategy and the outcome.
"Now that Rupert is dead, how will you prove Belwain's involvement?" Elslow asked.
"I have not considered all the possibilities. Do not concern yourself on that topic. I will find a way to deal with him. My first priority is to get Elizabeth settled in her new home."
"When do you leave?" Elslow inquired.
"I had thought tomorrow, but have decided that Elizabeth will need to rest first. And I must go to Owen and give him an accounting. It would not be right to send a messenger. Ten, maybe twelve days hence and we will leave."
"You still wish to leave me in charge?" Elslow asked.
"I do. The boy would do better with you for his council. We will send for him soon enough.
Now come and share a drink with me. We will toast to victory."
"I will join you and propose my own toast, Geoffrey. To your future. May it be all you wish."
Geoffrey wasted little time before he was on his way to give Owen a personal accounting. It was an accounting to an equal and Geoffrey treated others of his worth as he would have them treat him. Sending a messenger with the news of the outcome of the battle with Rupert would not have been fitting, and Geoffrey would always do his duty.
There was very little conversation or interaction with Elizabeth in the two days he took to prepare for his leave. He rode from Montwright knowing that his wife thought he was still furious with her, and while it pained him to witness her distress and quiet disposition, he reminded himself that it was all for her own good. If this lesson could teach her caution, then the pain would have been well worth the agony. Yet, even though he cloaked his true feelings from her, he could not resist hauling her to him and giving her a sound, aye, passionate kiss before he left.
Elslow watched the farewell between husband and wife with quiet amusement. He had always considered Elizabeth to be most intelligent and found himself amazed that she could not see through her husband's facade. Could she not see the love radiating in her husband's eyes? Why, it was very obvious to anyone with an ounce of thinking ability that the man was clearly besotted with his wife!
In the past, Elizabeth had always mirrored his traits, his personality, but of late, she acted more like the whipped animal than the independent wildcat he had seen raised.
He had already decided to interfere, knowing it was not his place, and not caring in the least.
He would see his daughter's child content, so that he too could find contentment. Aye, he decided, his motives were selfish in one sense.
Elslow let Elizabeth keep her own council for the long day and waited until they were seated in the silent hall for dinner. Geoffrey had taken half the contingent of men with him, including Elslow's new friend, Roger, and the quiet, after so much chaos with Geoffrey's presence, was unsettling.
"I challenge you to a game of chess, Elizabeth," Elslow stated when the meal was finished.
"I fear my heart will not be on the game," Elizabeth replied with a tired sigh. She was giving in to her melancholy, now that Geoffrey was not there to witness it, and was quite enjoying her despondency, Elslow decided.
"I do not want your heart in it," Elslow said as he set the pieces of the wooden chest on the table, "I wish you to use your head. In all things you should use your head, Granddaughter."
"You sound like my husband," Elizabeth replied. "What is your aim?" she asked with a suspicious look at her grandfather. She moved a pawn to start the game and tried to concentrate.
"You let your heart rule your actions, that is all," Elslow stated with a smug voice. He meant to rile her, and from the look on Elizabeth 's face, he knew he had accomplished his deed.