Free Knight's Honor by Roberta Gellis Page B

his eyes from the bishop's face so that he could hide his recognition of the trap his daughter had set. The Bishop of Chester was notorious for literally taking up arms to defend his rights in a most unpriestly fashion and for boasting of his courage and prowess.
    "I will marry you myself," the priest said with determination, neatly snared by Elizabeth's net.
    "But we are to be married at Hereford, and within a few weeks," Elizabeth added appealingly, "and I know the Bishop of Hereford will be afraid."
    "That old woman is afraid of his own shadow. So much the better. It would be a shame if a beautiful lady like yourself and a lusty young man like Lord Hereford were to be joined by those feeble and trembling hands. I will come to Hereford and if that sniveling dotard objects, I will see to him."
    "Thank you, my lord," Elizabeth murmured, dropping a deep curtsy and kissing the prelate's hand. "You have lightened my heart and reassured my conviction that courage is not lacking in a good priest to do God's will. Now I must go and see if I can quiet my lord before he does someone some hurt in his rage."
    Hereford was standing before the second large hearth in the hall, the male retainers and women servants having scattered into colder areas to be away from his wrath. The women, watching Elizabeth approach, nudged each other and commented on her lack of fear.
    "She," one maid remarked bitterly, having felt Elizabeth's hand that morning, "she fears nothing—man, beast, or devil. She is Satan's daughter, not Chester's, and the fires of hell burn within her."

    "Let me be, Elizabeth," Hereford said in the same strangled voice before she could speak, "I am in no temper to have speech with anyone, even you."
    There was a new type of respect in Elizabeth's face as she looked at her betrothed. The Hereford she knew did not have this type of control over himself; that young man would have beaten his servants, destroyed the furniture, possibly even have armed and galloped off to call his vassals to make war.
    "If it will ease your heart to beat me, Roger, you are perfectly welcome to do so,” Elizabeth said, knowing she was perfectly safe and hoping the shock would help calm her betrothed, “but I have already found a way to turn that addlepate's blow from us."
    "His blow! Who cares for that. If I could not force the Bishop of Hereford to marry us—and I do not doubt that light persuasion would make him willing enough—there is always the house chaplain who will do my bidding." He ground his teeth and began to tremble, crimsoning again. "It is the insult. How dare he write in those terms of command! The—"
    Elizabeth raised her brows and smothered a smile as she listened to five minutes of the most elaborate obscenity that even she had ever heard. Some of the terms were so picturesque and surprising that they made her eyes open and once she spluttered a little. Finally, however, even Hereford's invention ran out and he subsided, gasping.
    "That was lovely, Roger," she said calmly, "but cannot you see that you are directing it against the wrong man?"
    Shock quieted Hereford, and he turned to face her. "What does that mean?"
    "Have you ever known Stephen to speak or write in such terms to anyone with so little reason? The king may be God's greatest fool, but even you must admit that he is gentle and conciliating to a fault, unless he be thrown into a great rage. What about our marriage could offend him?"
    "Who knows? And so what if he is in a rage! Do you think I am blessed with the calm of heavenly harmony just now?"
    "Yes, but why should he be in a rage? Roger, be quiet and try to think."
    "I do not need to think. What is there to think about. He knows I am here and what I am here for. Is that not sufficient?"
    Elizabeth shook her head. "How can he know? That you are here, doubtless he has heard. Maud has spies everywhere and you have not tried to hide yourself. But your business with Gaunt and Gloucester, who knows of that except