She was glad for the solitude. So much had happened so fast that Elizabeth hadn't had time to do more than react. Now perhaps she could sort out her feelings. She stretched and felt the soreness caused by her husband. Her husband! She was now married, and Baron Geoffrey was
Perhaps it will be an easy arrangement, being married to Geoffrey. By the standards of nobility, it was an excellent match from her position. Her parents would have been pleased.
More significant, her brother's future was now secure. Elizabeth believed that Geoffrey would indeed protect little Thomas. 'We are no longer alone, little brother,' she whispered. Hope, newfound and fragile, eased Elizabeth 's worry.
Kicking off the covers, she slipped out of bed and knelt down, automatically making the sign of the cross before her knees touched the cold stone floor. In the habit of rushing through her morning prayers, all recited aloud in Latin as her mother had taught her, Elizabeth finished the ritual in bare minutes. She added an additional Paternoster for the repose of her family's souls, and ended the prayer with the same vow she had made each and every morning since the massacre. She promised to see Belwain punished, and would give her life, if need be. The fact that she was praying for vengeance, an act in great contradiction to all the Church taught, did not deter Elizabeth. In this instance she would follow her grandfather's beliefs. It would be an eye for an eye. The oldest law would prevail.
The ritual completed, Elizabeth hurried to dress. She wished to look her best when she joined her husband. Never having given her appearance more than a necessary glance in the past, Elizabeth was a little surprised at herself. Being pledged to Hugh for so many years removed the need for primping for the opposite sex, for Hugh had always been far more interested in the number of new horses purchased and by how many coins whenever he visited Montwright Manor. He never remarked upon her appearance. Father had called Hugh frugal, which by her father's tight standards was quite a compliment. Elizabeth had come to think of her future husband as… predictable. Predictable and boring.
Her wardrobe was sadly lacking in choices. Long ago, her father had dictated that too many clothes made one give undue attention to one's appearance, and such attention more than hinted of vanity. And vanity was a sin.
Elizabeth decided on a beige gown with blue borders. It fit rather snugly across her breasts and was high- necked, with long flowing sleeves. She tied a blue rope around her waist and slipped her dagger into its leather sheath and onto the loop of the belt.
It took her another ten minutes to find the mate to her beige leather shoes, lodged behind the drape at the head of the bed, and when both shoes were found and slipped into, she turned her attention to her hair. She brushed it until it crackled and then tied it with a ribbon at the base of her neck.
There, she was done. Pinching her cheeks to give them additional glow, and wishing she could find her tiny mirror to check her appearance, she straightened her shoulders and went in search of her husband.
She found Sara in the great hall, and saw the disorder. The castle must be made as spotless as it used to be, Elizabeth decided, in honor of her mother. Elizabeth deterred her search for Geoffrey and organized the servants, placing Sara in charge to supervise the sweeping and scrubbing.
'Throw out these reeds,' she said, referring to the soiled rushes. 'And replace them with new. Perhaps we should sprinkle some rosemary about to get rid of the staleness that lingers. What say you, Sara?' Elizabeth asked the servant.
'Aye, my lady. And Dame Winslow will bring us fresh wildflowers just like she used to do for your mother. We will have the place as right as new in no time.'
Elizabeth nodded. Her gaze turned to the shredded banner hanging by sheer willpower of its own on the far wall. 'Sara, have someone remove the banner,' she ordered in a whisper. 'I do not need to look upon it to remember what was done here. I'll not forget.'
The servant impulsively grabbed Elizabeth 's hand and squeezed it. 'I'll see to it, my lady. None of us will be forgetting.'
'Thank you, Sara,' Elizabeth replied. She gave the banner one last look and then turned to leave the room.
The servant used the hem of her sleeve to wipe the gathering tears from her eyes as she watched her new mistress. Oh, if only she had the power to lift some of the weight and heartache burdening one so young! ' 'Tis so unfair,' she grumbled to herself.
'Pardon me, Sara?' Elizabeth turned from the doorway and smiled. 'I did not hear you.'
'I was just asking myself if you and the Baron will be leaving soon,' Sara improvised. She knew it wasn't her place to ask such a question, but she had no wish to talk of the killings again.
Elizabeth was surprised by the question. She had not even considered the possibility of leaving Montwright. It was her home. Yet leaving, and soon, was more than likely. Geoffrey had many holdings superior to Montwright lands and he had his own domain. 'In truth, I do not know,' Elizabeth told the servant. 'Where is my husband, Sara? Have you seen him about? I must discuss this issue with him.'
'I have not seen him this morn,' Sara replied. 'Perhaps he is in the courtyard, or in the soldiers' keep below. I could send Hammond to check,' she added, for while Elizabeth could freely roam about the estate, it was strictly forbidden for a woman to enter the soldiers' quarters located one flight below the great hall.
'I will find him,' Elizabeth said.
It was easier said than done. Elizabeth strolled around the courtyard but did not interrupt any of the men to ask of her husband's whereabouts. She stopped and watched several knights struggle with a large vat of sand, wondering what their plan was. The redheaded squire, called Gerald, was glad to give her an explanation. 'Vats of sand will be placed at intervals along the ledge circling the top of the wall, my lady.'
'For what purpose?' Elizabeth asked, frowning.
'See the one that is in place already, over there?' Gerald asked, pointing to the west. His voice fairly screamed the question into Elizabeth 's ear.
'Aye, I see it,' Elizabeth answered.
'And see how it perches on those stones?'
Elizabeth nodded, inwardly smiling at the squire's loud enthusiasm.
'The fire to heat the sand will be contained within the circle of stones.'
'But for what purpose?' Elizabeth asked.
'To heat the sand,' Gerald restated, 'until the sand is so hot it is almost liquid sun.'
'And when it is almost liquid sun?' Elizabeth asked.
'Then it is propelled by the metal discs over the wall and will do much damage to anyone trying to gain entrance… if there be another attack.'
From the look on the squire's face, he was a bit disappointed that she wasn't showing much enthusiasm. 'I had not heard of such a thing, such a weapon,' she said. 'It is truly effective?'
'Aye, my lady. The sand can burn the body something fierce. Why, if it lands right, it can blind-'
'Enough,' Elizabeth hastened to interrupt, for he was painting a gruesome picture for her and she had the feeling he was just beginning to warm to his topic. 'You have convinced me,' she added.
The squire nodded and grinned. Elizabeth thanked him for his time and explanation, and thought that he reminded her of her pet hawk the way he puffed up with her praise.
She continued to look for her husband but did not find him in any of the small huts clustered in semicircles around the courtyard. She was pleased to see that all the huts were being reinforced with fresh-smelling straw and wattle, long thin wooden rods that gave additional support. The huts were the real foundation of the castle, and though they were built on a small scale by others' standards, they housed trained craftsmen who were highly skilled and most efficient in seeing to all the needs of the manor. The leatherworker resided in one hut; the baker with two cooking pits and one clay oven in another; the falcons and their trainer with his variety of cages and perches in yet another. In another cluster the carpenter resided, next to the candlemaker. The last and, by her father's standards, the most important was the oversized but set to one side of the castle, all alone, and nearest to the barn. It
