Roger was doubled over and the tightness of the rope acted as a squeezing vessel below his ribs. It forced great gushes of water from his lungs, and by the time he was dragged clear, he was coughing and sputtering.
Elizabeth did not hear him. She tried to climb out of the water but was crying so hard that she couldn't seem to keep a hold. She was too late! And now Roger was dead.
Geoffrey had gained victory over his opponents and was on his way to fight another when he glimpsed Elizabeth just seconds before she dived into the water. He reacted with almost superhuman power then, screaming like a wild animal as he raced to get to her. His men saw to his back, saving his life countless times as he passed the rebels without a glance. And then the fight was over, the remaining rebels running to safety.
Geoffrey was tearing at his armor, intent on diving into the water to find Elizabeth, when she surfaced just a few feet in front of him. Relief such as he had never known washed over him, and he found that his legs would no longer support him. He knelt down and bowed his head and gave thanks.
Her soft sobs renewed his strength, and his rage. He thanked God that she was alive so that he could kill her, and shot up to his feet with a bellow of fury. 'I thought you drowned,' he screamed as he hauled her out of the water. 'I thought you drowned,' he repeated. He was shaking her as he screamed, and then suddenly stopped and pulled her against his chest.
Elizabeth heard the agony in his voice and cried all the more. 'Nay, Geoffrey. It is worse,' she said, sobbing. 'It is Roger. He is the one drowned.'
Her husband did not seem to understand. He began to shake her again, yelling at the top of his lungs. He confused her with his tirade. And then Roger's coughs reached her and she began to cry louder. 'He is not dead, Geoffrey. He is not! Do not be angry any longer.'
'You are a stupid woman,' Geoffrey ranted. He pulled her against his chest and said something she could not hear, and then jerked her back and was shaking her all over again. It was as if he could not make up his mind. She started to cry again, uncaring that an audience had formed as a half-circle behind her husband, and tried without success to get the mass of wet hair out of her face. 'I would explain,' she sobbed, wishing she could just find a place to sit and calm herself.
'You will not,' Geoffrey bellowed, grabbing for her shoulders again. He pulled her to his chest once again and said in a softer voice, 'Quit your weeping, Elizabeth. It is over.'
He felt Elizabeth nod against him and found himself taking deep breaths to stop his tremors. Lord, he was acting more like a woman each day he spent with Elizabeth, he thought, and a smile of disbelief crossed his face. He spotted Roger, drenched but very much alive, and motioned him to his side. 'It was this stupid, disobedient wife of mine that saved your life, Roger. What think you of that?' he asked.
'I am most grateful,' Roger answered. 'Though I would disagree that she is stupid, my lord.'
Geoffrey almost laughed.
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
'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
