Joseph raised his hands and gently pulled free from her grip. "Please, my lady, calm yourself. Let us go inside," he suggested, "and I will tell you all I know."

Elizabeth agreed with a quick nod and hurried inside. She tried to compose herself as was befitting her position, but her mind rebelled at the task, concentrating on the number of unanswered questions and conflicting emotions instead.

The one-room hut was sparsely furnished. Elizabeth sat on the edge of one of the two wooden stools, her hands folded in her lap, her back straight, while she waited for Joseph to light the fire in the hearth. Though it was late spring, the hut was damp and chill.

It seemed an eternity before Joseph was seated across from her. " 'Twas shortly after I left here last, my lady. The day of the storm," he qualified, "I had just reached the second rise above the manor when I first saw them approach as a cloud of dust on the winding road below. Though there were only two hundred or so of them, they still looked to be a deadly fighting force. Why, the ground fairly trembled beneath me so awesome was the sight. I saw their leader, for he rode well ahead of his men and was the only one without benefit of a helmet.

"Once they had battered down and entered the gates, for it was obvious to me that they cared not for the element of surprise, I rode closer, my curiosity pushing aside all caution. By the time I found a better vantage point, their leader had drawn up his force into a half-circle, and behind a wall of shields, they advanced. It was a sight to see, little one. I watched their leader take his stand, a gigantic figure, I must admit, for he carried a great sword I wager two lesser men could scarcely lift. I watched as his sword swung countless times and lay low as many. 'Twas then that the storm broke-"

"Were they from Lord Geoffrey?" It was a bare whisper, but Joseph heard.

"Aye, they were Lord Geoffrey's men. You knew that he would send forces."

"Of course I realized this, Joseph," she sighed. "My father was vassal to Geoffrey, and his lord would reclaim what is his. Still, we did not send word to him. How did he arrive so soon?"

"I do not know," Joseph confessed.

"Belwain!" The name was a shout of despair. Elizabeth jumped up and began to pace.

"Your uncle?" Joseph asked. "Why would he-"

"Of course," Elizabeth interrupted. "We both know that my uncle was behind the massacre of my family. He went to Geoffrey. My God, he betrayed his own men to win Geoffrey's favor. What lies he must have told."

Joseph shook his head. "I always knew he was an evil man, but even I did not think he would go to such extremes."

"Our cause is lost, Joseph," Elizabeth replied in an agonized whisper. "Lord Geoffrey will listen to my uncle's lies. Thomas and I will be placed in Belwain's hands, and Thomas will be murdered, for only when my little brother is dead can Belwain become master of my home. Only then."

"Perhaps Lord Geoffrey will see through Belwain's plan," Joseph answered.

"I have never met Lord Geoffrey," Elizabeth said, "but I know he is said to possess a fierce temper and is most disagreeable at times. No, I do not think he would listen."

"My lady," Joseph implored, "perhaps-"

"Joseph, if I had only myself to consider, I would go to Lord Geoffrey and beg him to listen to my words, for Belwain's perfidy should be told to all who would listen. But I must protect Thomas. Belwain thinks both my brother and I are dead."

Elizabeth continued to pace back and forth in front of the hearth. "I have made up my mind, Joseph. Tomorrow we leave for London and the safety of my grandfather's home."

"And Belwain?" Joseph asked with hesitancy. A dread of what her answer was going to be made Joseph brace himself. He knew his mistress well. She would not allow Belwain acquittal for his evildoing.

"I will kill him."

A log sizzled and a loud pop sounded in the silence that followed Elizabeth 's statement. A chill settled in the old servant's bones. He had no doubt that his mistress would do as she said. Still, he had not explained all of his news, and bracing his leathery palms against his trembling knees, he rushed to finish the task. "Geoffrey's men have Thomas."

Elizabeth 's pacing abruptly stopped. "How can this be? He is with grandfather by now. You saw him leave with Roland. Surely you are mistaken."

"Nay, my lady. I saw him at the castle with my own eyes. Thomas was asleep by the fire, but it was him. I had a clear view. Upon inquiry I learned that he is considered mute." Joseph raised his hand when he saw his mistress was about to interrupt, and hastily continued the tale. "How he came to be with them I do not know. Geoffrey's men will tell me nothing, but one thing is certain: they do not yet realize who the boy is, and he is being well cared for. Why, the one near death is the very one who saved his life, it is said."

"Joseph, you talk in riddles. Who is near death?" In her frustration, Elizabeth pulled at a stray lock of golden hair blocking her vision and swiftly brushed it back over her shoulder. Joseph in turn let out a long sigh and scratched his heavy beard before he continued.

"Their leader took a blow to his head during the battle. They say he is dying."

"Why did you risk going to the manor, Joseph?"

"Maynard the stable master sent word to me that Thomas was there. I had to see for myself," Joseph explained. "When I heard that the leader of Geoffrey's men was dying, I sought out the next in command. I thought of a rash plan and…" Joseph again cleared his throat before continuing. "I told them I knew of one well-versed in the art of healing and that I would bring this healer to tend their master on the condition that once he was well, the healer could safely leave. The lord's vassal argued mightily over this, saying that he need make no promises, but I could not be budged, and in the end he agreed."

Elizabeth had listened intently to Joseph's plan, and with angry words demanded, "And what if he does not mend, Joseph? What, then?"

"It was all I could think of to get you near Thomas. Perhaps you can find a way to free him once you are inside. Do not frown so," the servant pleaded. "Your mother tended the sick and many times I saw you accompany her. Surely you have some of her ways."

Elizabeth considered what Joseph said. Her stomach seemed to twist into knots as she worried over what course of action to take. Getting Thomas to safety was the most important issue. If Lord Geoffrey's men learned of her brother's identity, they would take him to their leader. According to the law, Thomas would be next in line to rule the manor, but he would be placed under her uncle's care until he was of age. As Thomas's guardian, Belwain would make sure his only obstacle to his position of power was removed. The law was the law.

No, there wasn't really any choice. "It is a good plan, Joseph. God be willing, their leader will mend. If not, we will have done all we can." Elizabeth slowly made the sign of the cross, and Joseph quickly followed suit.

"God willing," Joseph repeated as a prayer. "God willing."

"I would prepare myself for the journey while you saddle my mare, Joseph." A smile softened the command. Joseph immediately retreated, shutting the door firmly behind him. He rounded the hut and hastily readied the animal for his mistress. A few minutes later he was back and saw that Elizabeth had changed into a blue gown, simple in design yet rich in texture, and of the exact color of her eyes.

He accepted the bundle of herbs his mistress handed him and helped her into the saddle. He was having second thoughts about his rash plan, and his worry was not missed by his mistress. Elizabeth leaned down and gently patted his wrinkled hand. "Do not worry, Joseph. It is long past the time for action. All will be well."

As if to ensure that his mistress's words would hold true, Joseph again crossed himself. He then mounted the gelding he had borrowed from Herman the Bald, the assistant stable master, and led the way through the forest, his dagger drawn and ready in case of mischief along the way.

In less than an hour's time Elizabeth and Joseph reached the battle-damaged gates to the manor at the top of the winding road. Two burly guards stood back to allow them entrance, standing clear of the menacing wolfhounds that flanked Elizabeth 's horse. Surprise registered on their faces but they kept their silence, only grinning with raised eyebrows at each other when the group had safely passed.

When the pair reached the inner bailey, Joseph was first to dismount and he quickly rushed to assist his mistress. He felt her tremble when she placed her hand in his, and knew that she was afraid. A surge of pride fairly overwhelmed him when he gazed into her eyes, for her outward appearance showed only a calm and composed exterior. "You do your father proud, my lady," he whispered as he lifted her from the saddle. Aye, she had inherited her bravery from her father, Joseph knew, and he only wished that Thomas could see her now. For in truth, it was Joseph who was terrified of what was to come, and his gentle mistress was his calming tonic.

The sounds of men at work had been loud and furious when they first entered the manor, but now an ominous silence descended, chilling in its intensity. A sea of foreign faces stared at her intently. Elizabeth stood next to her horse for a moment and then summoned all of her courage and, head held high, started to walk into the throng of watching men.

Hadn't Joseph said that there were barely two hundred of them? she wondered. Well, he was mistaken, she decided, for there were at least two times that number. And all of them were gaping! Their crude behavior didn't intimidate Elizabeth. Pride straightened her shoulders, giving her a regal appearance. The wind caught her hood and snatched it from her head, and the heavy mass of sun-lightened curls quickly accepted their freedom, falling in disarray about her shoulders.

Elizabeth continued to walk with quiet dignity into the great hall, pausing only long enough to remove her cloak and hand it to the hovering Joseph. She noticed that he clutched her bundle of medicines in a tight grip, for the veins in his hands seemed to bulge from the pressure, and she gave him a quick smile in an effort to relieve some of his anxiety.

Outwardly oblivious to the men's frank appraisals, and flanked by her loyal wolfhounds, Elizabeth turned and made her way to the great hearth at the far end of the hall. All were silent as she warmed her hands before the roaring fire. She wasn't really cold, but used the time to compose herself before confronting her audience. When she could delay no longer, she turned and met the gazes staring at her. The dogs sat, one on either side of her.

Slowly she scanned the room. Home was gone; the banner and tapestry hanging in shreds against the damp stone walls, a reminder that death had entered Montwright; no echoed laughter remained in Elizabeth 's memory, only screams and torment filled her soul. This was just a bare room now; she could not even picture her mother sitting next to her father at the long oaken table… no, only see again and again the raised sword swinging toward her mother's neck…

A cough stopped her thoughts. The heavy silence was broken. Elizabeth willed herself to turn her gaze from the torn and charred banner and focus on her audience. A bold red-haired soldier with a ready smile jumped up from his position at the great table and rushed over to stand directly in front of Elizabeth, blocking her view of the rest of the men. She judged him to be a squire, for he was too old to be a page, yet too young to have been knighted. His silly grin almost made Elizabeth smile but she was careful to keep her expression neutral.

The squire gazed into Elizabeth 's blue eyes and said in a loud voice, "You are a beauty. How will you care for our lord?"

When she did not respond to his gibe, for, in truth, she wasn't sure just how to answer his question, he called to another, saying, "She has hair born from the sun. I wager it feels like the finest of silks." He raised his hand to touch the curls then, but her voice, though soft, cut through his action like a knife.

"Do you not value your life?"

The squire stopped in midstride, his smile vanishing, for he had not missed the sound of the low growling from the dogs. He glanced at each animal and saw that the hair on the backs of their necks was raised and that their teeth, gleaming with dagger edges, were bared for attack.