Roger pointed to the men on the ground behind him and said, "Recognize the arrows, my lord?"
"They are mine," Elizabeth acknowledged, pulling free of her husband's hold. "And don't you dare yell at me again, Geoffrey! My ears are ringing from your shouts. You were outnumbered and I did what was needed."
"It was my duty to protect you, wife, not the other way around," Geoffrey replied, clearly exasperated. "You risked your life."
"It is my life to risk," Elizabeth argued. She placed her hands on her hips, flung her hair out of her face with a jerk of her head, and gifted him with a long, scorching look. "Think you own it?" she challenged. Her arrogant tone was lessened somewhat by the hefty sneeze she couldn't contain.
"I do," Geoffrey bellowed. His hands were now on his hips, his stance threatening. The muscles of his bronzed thighs and legs, braced apart for battle, intimidated her just as much as the frigid look in his eyes.
Elizabeth's stomach twisted; she suddenly felt very vulnerable arguing with her husband in front of his men, for though they appeared busy burying the dead and seeing to one another's injuries, it was obvious that they could well hear the shouts from their leader and his mistress. Why, Elizabeth realized, her mother would never have raised her voice to her father in such a fashion. It was unseemly, undignified. Of course, her mother would never have gotten herself into a situation such as this in the first place!
Elizabeth 's hands dropped to her sides in confusion and defeat. "You are most unreasonable," she said. Turning away from his glare, she started to walk back toward the trees. "I've no doubt you would like to put me in chains and drag me behind you," she muttered over her shoulder.
She was jerked around and pulled back into her husband's arms before she could gather another breath. "Do not dare to walk away from me when I am speaking to you," Geoffrey stated in a harsh whisper.
When he saw that her eyes were once again filling with tears, he shook her and then eased up on his fierce hold. "Your idea of chains has merit," he said, dragging her toward the privacy of the woods, "perhaps then you would stay where I put you."
Elizabeth was wise enough to know that silence would have been the best course of action at the moment, but could not help defending herself once again. "Geoffrey, if I had stayed an observer, your loyal vassal and my good friend, Roger, would be dead. Can you find no merit in my action?" she asked, ringing her hands in frustration and wishing she could ring his neck as well. "I am sorry if it was unseemly for me to kill those men with my arrows. I have never killed anyone before and I know I will burn in purgatory for at least a hundred years, but like it or not, I would do the same again." She started to cry again and hated herself for her weakness. It was just that he made her so mad! And she was so very tired. Dark was full upon them among the trees, and Elizabeth, in her haste to turn from his angry stare, stumbled over a stone. Geoffrey caught her and lifted her into his arms. She buried her face in his neck and tried to quit crying.
"What am I to do with you?" Geoffrey addressed the question to the top of her head. "Look at me," he commanded. When she complied, he continued, "In the space of one meager day, you have disobeyed me God knows how many times and openly admitted your disloyalty." He placed her on the ground, facing him, and then added, "I have killed men who have ventured less."
"I am not a man, I am your wife," Elizabeth replied, shrugging his hands off her shoulders.
"It is you who forgets that fact more often than I," Geoffrey retaliated. He turned from her and called to his squire, "We camp here for the night. See to my tent." Turning back to Elizabeth, he noticed that she trembled, and assumed it was due to the chill of the night. "You look like a drowned pup and your gown clings to you in an inappropriate manner. Find your cloak and cover yourself." His voice was as cold as her clothes, and Elizabeth found she no longer felt like crying. God's truth, she wanted to scream again!
She watched her husband walk away from her, barking orders as he moved toward his men, and shook her head. And I thought I understood him, she thought with despair. "Ha," she muttered aloud before sneezing once more. "I swear he is the most unreasonable, hardheaded, stubborn mule of a man that ever walked this earth," she ranted while she paced between the trees. "And to think I thought he would find merit in my deed! No, he finds no merit, for he has no mercy, no understanding, no love in his heart." The squeak of her waterlogged shoes seemed to underline each negative remark she made.
"Mistress?" Roger's voice intruded on her rantings and she was glad for it. She turned and saw that he held her cloak in his hands. "I imagine after your swim you have need for this," he said, his voice gentle.
She accepted the garment and wrapped it around her shoulders, grateful for its warmth. "I thank you for your thoughtfulness, Roger. And are you feeling well after your swim?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light. No need for the vassal to know how miserable she was feeling, she decided.
"I am," Roger replied. "Come now. Gerald has the Hawk's tent set up. I will find you some food and see you settled. I would think you quite exhausted after the day's events."
"I do find I am rather tired," Elizabeth admitted in a soft voice. She walked beside the knight toward the camp. Roger seemed agitated as they neared the group of soldiers, stopping several times to turn to her before resuming his silent walk again. Elizabeth knew the cause for his anxiety and finally placed her hand on his arm to gam his full attention. "Roger, you are glad that I helped to pull you from the water?" she began in a hesitant voice. She did not wait for him to answer before continuing on, "But at the same time you wish I had not contradicted my husband's orders. Is that not the way of your thinking? The reason for your frowns?"
Roger nodded and then spoke. "I am thankful to be alive and it was you who saved me. I owe you my life," he added in a fervent voice.
Elizabeth didn't quite know how to respond to his statement. If she agreed that she had indeed saved his life and he should be thankful, then she did not practice the virtue of humility, she considered. On the other hand, if she denied her deed, she wasn't being honest with him… or herself. Worse still, if she belittled the act and acted quite blase about the happening, then wouldn't she be telling the vassal that she placed little significance on his life? Humility be damned, she decided. "I would do it again, regardless of my husband's wrath. Please understand, Roger, your lord is not angry that you were saved; he is only displeased with my unseemly behavior. You must consider that he is unfamiliar with having a wife… and he is-"
"Do not trouble yourself explaining your husband to me," Roger replied, smiling. "He has already discussed the matter with me and he is most thankful that you were able to save me."
"He told you that?" The amazement was obvious in her voice. Then why has he carried on so? Elizabeth asked herself, though she dared not question the knight. It was not his place or his duty to instruct her in the ways and thoughts of her husband.
Roger took hold of Elizabeth 's elbow and bent his head toward hers. "They light the fires now. Come and stand close to one and warm yourself. You tremble with the cold."
"They risk a fire?" she asked as she followed the vassal through a group of soldiers. "Won't Rupert's men-"
"Do not concern yourself," Roger admonished in a quiet voice. "Your husband knows what he is about. You have only to trust him."
"Aye," Elizabeth immediately responded, embarrassed that she had asked the question of the knight.
There were perhaps ten or twelve soldiers circled around the fire as she and Roger edged up to the center, and Elizabeth noticed that each time she made eye contact with any of the men, they smiled and then lowered their gazes, as if in deference… or embarrassment. Elizabeth wasn't sure and found herself feeling very awkward and somewhat hurt by their attitude. It was another puzzle after a long day of puzzles and confusions. "My presence seems to intimidate the men," she whispered to Roger with an embarrassed little sigh.