Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] (37 page)

She sighed with frustration. “I do not think the king would take kindly to hearing his accounting called Domesday,” Geoffrey said.

The priest cleared his voice and began to repeat a favorite story they had all heard at least five times since his arrival, but out of courtesy, Geoffrey and Roger and Elizabeth gave him their attention. They laughed when the humorous story was ended, and the priest was pleased. So pleased, in fact, that he launched into yet another and another tale.

As soon as the meal was over, Geoffrey said to Roger, “Go and see to the preparations for tomorrow.” He then turned to Elizabeth and suggested that they retire for the evening.

Elizabeth quickly agreed. “There is something I must speak to you about,” she told Geoffrey with a soft smile.

“And I must also talk to you,” Geoffrey replied. His voice held no emotion and Elizabeth frowned with concern. When her husband tried to mask his feelings, as he was now doing, there was usually grave cause. She held his hand and followed him without a word.

When the bedroom door was shut against the world and they were alone, she still did not speak. She was learning her husband well and knew that he was considering his words with caution before he spoke. His frown told her that much.

Each undressed the other in silence. It had become a ritual for Elizabeth to take Geoffrey’s sword and place it near the head of the bed, on her husband’s side. This completed, she slipped between the covers and waited.

Geoffrey did not blow out the candles this night but came to Elizabeth with the lights glowing around them. He took her into his arms and kissed her gently.

“I would tell you my news first?” Elizabeth asked.

“I would rather have mine over and done with,” Geoffrey replied. There was an almost savage tone to his voice and Elizabeth immediately felt a knot of
worry form in her stomach. Geoffrey anchored Elizabeth’s legs with one of his and held her against his chest. He could not see her eyes, her face, and admitted that he did not want to. His words would cause her pain, and her pain would become his. “There is no easy way to tell you, Elizabeth,” Geoffrey began as he stroked her hair.

Elizabeth pulled back, forcing Geoffrey to look at her. “Then tell me with speed,” she suggested, becoming more frightened by the minute.

“The summons from William concerns Montwright,” he stated. He watched Elizabeth as he spoke, saw her confusion, and hurried to conclude. “Your grandfather has been charged with treason.”

“No!” Her denial sounded like the cry of a wounded animal.

“There is more,” Geoffrey said. His voice was quiet and firm and Elizabeth forced herself to stay calm and listen. “Belwain has petitioned William for guardianship over Thomas. They are all in London by now and I have been called there. I leave tomorrow.”

“I must go with you,” Elizabeth stated. “We both must go. Please,” she begged. “I would not be left behind, Geoffrey.”

Geoffrey could not turn away from the agony in his wife’s expression. “Yes, you will go with me. It is your family and it is only right,” he concluded.

Elizabeth began to cry. “Our family,” she corrected her husband. “What will happen?” she asked Geoffrey. “What will the king do?”

Geoffrey felt her trembling and held her tightly. “He will listen to all sides and then decide. Do not worry, Elizabeth. William is a fair king. Have faith in him.”

“I cannot!” She buried her head in Geoffrey’s shoulder and continued to weep.

Geoffrey held her until she was finished with her tears, soothing her with gentle words. “Do you have faith in me?” he asked when the weeping had subsided.

“You know that I do,” Elizabeth answered.

“Then when I tell you all will be well, you believe me,” Geoffrey argued.

“If you say it, then I will believe it,” Elizabeth promised.

“I give you my word. I will not let your family be harmed.”

“But what about you?” Elizabeth asked. “Can you promise me that you will not be harmed?”

Geoffrey was surprised by her question, for he was not in jeopardy. “I promise,” he told her. “Now try to sleep. We ride hard tomorrow and again for two more days.”

Elizabeth did not forget the news she wished to share with her husband. Her hand rested on her abdomen, in a protective gesture. She would not tell Geoffrey yet, she decided. He would not let her accompany him to face William if he knew she carried his child. And so she would wait until the problem with Belwain was solved. Then she would share her joy with Geoffrey. For now she would protect their babe, just as Geoffrey would protect her.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. She would need her rest to meet the challenge ahead.

During the dark hours, she had the nightmare again. Geoffrey soothed her when she called out, telling her that she was distraught and overly tired and that was the reason for her terror. He asked her to share the dream with him, but Elizabeth could not. She clung to Geoffrey and prayed. Prayed that the nightmare was not an omen.

The trip to London took three long days. Elizabeth was exhausted and barely looked around when they entered William’s domain. She wanted only to see Elslow and little Thomas, but Geoffrey would not allow it.

“You will have a bath and then rest. In the morning you will see them,” he stated. “And meet your king.”

She did not want to meet the king, and admitted only to herself that she was terrified of him. Although in her mind she knew that many of the stories about William were probably exaggerated, in her heart she believed them all.

They were given a spacious room overlooking the courtyard. The bed was twice the size of their bed at Berkley, and once Elizabeth was bathed and changed, she curled up in the middle of it, trying to keep her eyes open while she waited for Geoffrey’s return. He had gone to give his greeting to William, and to find out what he could about Elslow and the charges.

She did not wake up until the following morning, vaguely remembering Geoffrey undressing her and warming her during the night. Her husband was again absent. A tray of food rested on the table near the bed but Elizabeth did not touch it. Her stomach was too upset to handle food. She dressed with care, knowing there was no way out of meeting William. She would look her best to make Geoffrey proud that she was his wife.

When she was done, she stood at the window and observed the people in the courtyard. She grew more tense with each passing second, praying that Geoffrey would hurry with his duties and come for her.

Roger came in Geoffrey’s stead. “Where is Geoffrey?” she demanded with a tremor in her voice.

The loyal vassal took hold of Elizabeth’s arm and guided her out the door. Elizabeth saw that two of Geoffrey’s men guarded the door and was mildly surprised.

“Your husband is with the king,” Roger answered. “And so is your grandfather.” He glanced at his mistress and saw her distress, yet there was nothing he could offer as comfort. He was as concerned as Elizabeth
, though far better schooled in hiding his emotions. Geoffrey had not had time to confide in Roger, and so the vassal had no idea of the plan of action his lord would take.

“Your attendance has been requested,” Roger stated. “By the king himself.”

They had begun walking, but with Roger’s words Elizabeth stopped suddenly. “He is the voice,” she whispered. “I cannot go, Roger! It is the dream. I cannot go!”

Roger had no idea what Elizabeth was talking about, and wasn’t sure how to proceed. “Your husband wishes you by his side,” he said finally, knowing instinctively that Elizabeth would never deny Geoffrey.

His reasoning worked. Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and forced the terror from her eyes. “Then I must go,” she responded.

She walked at Roger’s side, through a maze of damp, ill-lighted corridors. They entered a large room, filled to capacity with people. All were dressed in splendid cloth, proclaiming their worth, and Elizabeth assumed that they were all titled subjects, waiting their turn for an audience with their king.

A path was cleared for Roger and Elizabeth. She could see the huge double doors at the far end of the room. They were doors similar to the ones in her dream, and Elizabeth knew a terror unlike anything she had ever witnessed or felt in the past.

She kept her gaze directed on the doors, ignoring the whispered comments and appraising looks of the crowd as she continued forward.

A trio of soldiers guarded the door. One of the men acknowledged Roger with a curt nod and beckoned them forward. The doors opened with a squeak of protest and Roger motioned Elizabeth to enter. “You will stay behind me?” she asked in a soft voice.

Roger was surprised by her question. To the casual observer, Elizabeth looked the picture of serenity and
sureness. He was sure he was the only one who could read the nervousness in her eyes, the only one who could hear the fear in her voice. “I would have you near,” she explained, “should my husband require your assistance.”

Roger could not help smiling. “I will stand right inside the door,” he replied. He did not add that he would protect her back just as he would his lord’s. It was his duty to see to their safety and need not be spoken.

Elizabeth turned and walked into the room. And the nightmare became reality. Straight ahead, seated on a gilded throne three steps above the floor, was King William. At the bottom of the steps, on the left, stood Geoffrey. Facing him, though several feet apart, stood Elslow. They were not in chains.

There were several other people in the room, but Elizabeth did not take the time to see if she recognized any of them. She smiled at Geoffrey and then at Elslow as she continued toward the king. When she reached the first step, she knelt down and bowed her head.

“My lord, I would present my wife, Elizabeth.” Geoffrey’s voice was clear and firm and Elizabeth could hear a faint tinge of pride in his voice.

“Stand and let me look at you,” William barked. His voice was as huge as his body, and Elizabeth hurried to do his bidding. She finally looked at his face and was most surprised to find him smiling at her.

He was a giant of a man, though his middle was as large as his height, and his eyes were cunning as he looked at Elizabeth. She did not flinch from his appraisal and met his stare without undue effort.

“It appears you have done well, son.” William addressed his compliment to Geoffrey, though he continued to study Elizabeth.

“I am content, my lord,” Geoffrey replied.

“And now to the matter at hand,” William stated. “Send the accuser in,” he demanded in a loud voice.
He looked from Geoffrey to Elslow and then to Elizabeth again. “Child, stand with your family while I attend to this matter.”

Elizabeth nodded, quickly genuflected, glanced over at her grandfather and smiled, and then walked to Geoffrey’s side. She stood as close to him as she could, letting her arm touch his, and looked back at the king.

For some untold reason, the king laughed, nodding his pleasure several times.

“You have secured her loyalty, Geoffrey,” the king praised.

“Always,” Geoffrey responded. He looked down at Elizabeth and smiled, letting her know his pleasure. Elizabeth felt like she had missed some vital part of the dialogue but dared not question Geoffrey now. Later he would explain why the king seemed so pleased. He certainly seemed to understand what William was thinking.

The squeak of the door caught Elizabeth’s attention and she turned and watched Belwain enter the room. The expression on his face was smug and victorious, and Elizabeth found herself clutching Geoffrey’s arm while she held her breath. She realized what she was doing and immediately let go of him.

Geoffrey felt her distress. He casually placed his hand on her shoulder and pulled her against him, willing her to accept some of his strength and courage.

Belwain awkwardly knelt before the king but did not bow his head. William grunted his displeasure and then said, “Your case against this Elslow is serious. You accuse him of treason but offer no proof of his guilt. I would know your reasons now.”

Belwain stood and pointed his finger at Elslow. “He is Saxon, and all Saxons are traitors. He has always wanted to regain Montwright, and has tricked your vassal, Geoffrey, into believing he is loyal to you. His motives are false. I know that he has joined the group of rebels against you.”

“You have proof of this accusation?” William demanded, leaning forward.

“I cannot give you proof, for the one who could validate my charge has been killed.”

“Who is this man you speak of?” William asked.

“His name was Rupert, and he was brother-in-law to Geoffrey’s wife, Elizabeth. He was Norman.”

“Ah! “ William looked at Geoffrey and nodded. “I have heard the tale of Rupert. Norman or not, he was disloyal to me. You, Belwain, are a fool to use him as your proof.” The king turned to Elslow and said, “Do you belong to this rebel group?” he demanded.

Elslow shook his head and replied in a clear voice, “I do not, my lord.”

William grunted again and turned to Geoffrey. “You believe him?” he asked, his voice softer.

Geoffrey nodded. “I do.”

“Since there is no proof, I will be content with my vassal’s judgment. The case of treason is dismissed. I will not allow a fight to determine the truth but will listen to my loyal knight.”

“But what of Montwright?” Belwain whined. “It belongs to me. It is my right to have guardianship over the boy until he is of age. Yet he”—Belwain jerked his head toward Geoffrey—“has placed a Saxon in my position. The law is on my side.”

William leaned back in his chair, a frown on his face. Silence reigned as the king considered the problem. Elizabeth directed her gaze toward her grandfather. His anger and disgust over Belwain was apparent, and Elizabeth could tell that he longed to reach out and grab him. His stance was rigid and his hands were held in tight fists. She realized then that she imitated her grandfather, and forced herself to relax.

“It is a difficult decision,” William finally said.

“Geoffrey, you have told me that you do not trust Belwain and have decided to keep the boy with you until he is of age. That is your right,” he added with a
nod. “Yet the question of a Saxon as master of Montwright remains a problem. I am a fair man, and have given a few estates to Saxons, as you well know. Yet now I am having difficulty deciding,” he admitted. “I do not know this Saxon. You could argue for your side of this question, Geoffrey, but you are like my son and would argue with a Norman heart. And you,” he said, turning to Elslow, “could argue as the boy’s grandfather, but you would speak with a Saxon heart. Pity there is not one who is neither Norman nor Saxon to council me.”