Masques of Gold (25 page)

It was after she had anxiously counted the coins for the third time, having suddenly remembered that she would need an extra dish and more of each dish if Justin was able to come for the evening meal—and then almost begun to weep when she realized how late it was and that she had forgotten to send any message to Justin's house—that she closed her eyes in disgust. What an idiot she was, counting farthings when all she had to do was go to Hamo Finke and ask for money. It did not matter at all that her father had taken his money; she now had her own!

Paul served a final customer, this one quite genuine, who glanced at Lissa without interest or recognition and snapped at Paul to hurry in weighing out the caraway seed. As soon as he walked away, Lissa put the coins in the purse at her belt and said, “Close up. I will call Oliva down to help you carry in the counter and barrels.”

“We have almost an hour to sundown,” Paul said, considerably surprised, “and business is still good.”

Lissa grinned. “It will be even better tomorrow if we close early today. Can you not imagine how rumor will spread? And I may give more substance for those long tongues tomorrow. I must draw on my dowry so I can pay to replace our spices, which means a visit to Hamo Finke and to the Hanse, and Sir Justin has ordered that for the next week or two I do not go abroad without a guard.”

Lissa did not hesitate over Justin's name. While she was mixing potions and measuring out dried roses and chopped mossberries, she had considered at length what to do about Justin and her household. She had concluded that it would be embarrassing and useless to try to keep their relationship a total secret from Paul, Oliva, and the boys. Thus she said Justin's name as she would have spoken that of any other friend and went on to tell Paul that as soon as the stock and counter were safe inside, she would ask him to carry a message to Sir Justin.

“I would not want you to faint with terror if he should decide to come here or send his men for me. We have become friends, and Sir Justin fears I am in danger from those who caused Peter's death and destroyed his house. No, never mind why, I will explain later if I have time. Serve this woman who is coming. If she asks for me, tell her I am tired and in pain and have gone to bed. Come up when you are done and I will give you the note.”

When she entered the solar, Lissa was somewhat startled, wondering whether Oliva had somehow divined that she hoped for a very special guest that evening. The room had been cleaned and polished until it looked as if no one had ever set a foot in it before. Even the bed was stripped down to its leather straps; pads, feather beds, and pillows were all gone, the curtains looped back to show the gaunt skeleton. Color flared in Lissa's cheeks with the suspicion that the maid had somehow been privy to her thoughts about Justin and had stripped the bed to remove temptation—as if she would use her father's bed—and that idea brought the realization that the removal of all traces of use in the room had also removed all traces of her father.

Lissa remained still for a moment longer, savoring the thought, and then called out. Oliva came from the bedchamber, looking a trifle apprehensive, but Lissa smiled at her and said she had done right to clean the room before she cleaned the gowns. “Whatever still needs to be done with them can wait for the morrow,” Lissa said. “Go down now and help Paul close up the shop. I want an accounting of the barter. Out of that, put aside a dozen eggs, a pound or two of barley, and the small hank of thread I saw. Tomorrow I will decide what to do with what else we have.”

Oliva ran down to help Paul readily, and Lissa went into her bedchamber where her writing desk stood ready. It was odd, she thought, how reluctant she had been to take anything with her to Peter's house, almost as if she had known the marriage would not last long and it was not worth the trouble to move her furniture when she would only have to bring it back. A chill passed over her, and she told herself firmly not to be a fool. There had been no room in Peter's lavishly furnished house for anything of hers. In the next moment she was suddenly filled with delight by the memory of Justin admitting that he had never furnished his bedchamber and would be ashamed to bring her into it. I will bring it all to him, she thought, and our marriage will last very long.

In that mood writing to Justin was surprisingly easy. Lissa had thought of this excuse and that for inviting him while she worked at her compounding, and wondered whether Justin might think her coarse or bold. But as she pulled a sheet of parchment from the desk and cut a slip off it, she only wondered why she had been so silly and was relieved to discover that the ink in her little horn was still liquid enough to use and her quill did not need trimming. She did not need any excuses for asking Justin to come to her. If she did, he was not what she believed him to be and she would be better off without him.

“My dearest Justin,” she wrote, “I am well if you are, and I will be better still if you have no plans or duties this evening and can come to share my evening meal once again, this time in my father's house, south of the needler's on Soper Lane. You will know the house for that it is all of stone and with a slate roof and there is a ship scribed in the capstone of the door. If you are not home, my journeyman will tell me. Come if you can. If not, we will meet tomorrow when you have time.”

Then, of course, worry began to mix with eagerness. She could say he was not the man she thought, but would that cure her feeling for him? Turning her mind from the note she had just rolled and tied with a thread of wool, she remembered her need for money. There was more than enough for tonight's meal, but it would be only mannerly to warn Master Hamo that she would draw on him for twenty shillings, and the goldsmith's house was on Lombard Street, so Paul could just turn north into the Poultry Market and east into Lombard and take that message at the same time.

The journeyman came up just as she finished the note to Hamo Finke, and she gave him both, directing him to Justin's house, which was just past the Mercery, where it turned southward to become Bucklersbury. Master Hamo's place he knew well, for he had carried both messages and coin there while arrangements were being made for her marriage to Peter.

When he was gone, however, there was little left to do but worry. Lissa built up the fires both in her room and in the solar, and sat down in her chair. She knew she should try to think about Peter's affairs. There were the parchments, lying atop her clothes chest, but those debts and payments seemed to be almost part of another life. She could not make herself think about the past when her life might be about to take an entirely new path. She wanted Justin to come, yet she knew that if he did they would almost certainly become lovers. And suddenly her hands were clammy, her mouth dry with fear. Not that Lissa feared the act itself but because she might—naked and silenced—be found wanting.

Nonsense, she told herself; Justin is kind. He will not cast me off if I am not perfect but teach me what he desires—which brought to her the image that called forth such strange feelings in her flesh: a male body, tall and broad-shouldered with a hollow belly and strong, firm thighs (all she had ever seen was a sagging paunch and mottled, swollen legs) and…And what, she asked herself, afraid to paint a picture that Justin would not match, what if he takes great pleasure in me? What if he chooses to stay all night?

Being lovers was not the problem. Once their meal was carried up to them, no one would intrude. Although Oliva slept in the solar, she would not come up until any guest was gone. Thus, if Justin did not stay too long, it would be easy. She could simply say that she and Justin had come to know each other over Peter's death and admit, as she had to Adela, that she was considering marriage but that neither he nor she was certain it would be wise. Problems would arise only if Justin wished to remain with her past any reasonable time for a guest to leave. Then Paul and Oliva would guess they were lovers. They would not tell her father—she was almost sure. And she could make it clear that Justin would not like talk linking him and a woman, especially one whose husband was newly dead, before a betrothal took place. Both Paul and Oliva knew there were forces more dangerous than William Bowles—like Justin—and they would hold their tongues.

The boys would be told nothing, except—if they had to carry a message now and again—not to gossip about Sir Justin, who was the mayor's chief thief taker and had methods of dealing with loose-lipped boys. As Witta and Ninias would be closed into the workroom to eat their meal before Justin came and, no doubt, fast asleep before he left, they would not see or hear much while winter lasted. And by summer…well, if her father had not sent any message or returned…She sat dreaming by the fire until the slam of the door and the sound of male voices made her start from her chair.

Lissa's first shock at hearing male voices in the shop below after trading hours, which brought with it an instinctive and unreasoning sense of fear, was dissipated by recognition. Paul's voice, soft and deferential, was overridden by Justin's harsher tones. She made out what they were discussing as she came to the door of the solar and heard Paul telling Oliva to go up and see if the mistress was sleeping.

“No, indeed I am not,” Lissa called down. “When did you know me to sleep in the middle of the day, Paul?”

“When did he know you beaten half to death and still not completely recovered?” Justin said, looking up at her and laughing. “And I have found you unwakable two out of the three times I called on you in the afternoon.”

“Monster!” Lissa cried, laughing too. “That is manifestly unfair. Both times I had been awake nearly all the night before.”

“You expect fairness, do you?” he asked as he began to climb the stairs.

Lissa watched him, a provocative smile replacing her frank laughter. “I expect favor,” she said, but softly enough so that only he heard her as he closed the distance between them. Then she turned and went back into the solar quickly so that he had room to follow her a little way in, where she turned back and embraced him. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” she whispered.

“Why? What has happened? Where are my men?”

“Oh, Justin, nothing has happened.” Lissa took his worried face between her hands. The man was so accustomed to being used, she thought, welcome only for his ability to bring peace where there had been riot or protection where there had been fear, that he did not believe his coming alone could be precious to her. “Cannot I be glad you are come only because I so desire your company? And because I am afraid when you are away from me that I have dreamt all this, that we do not fit together like ashlar? Then you come and say something utterly outrageous and make me laugh, and my heart is like a—like a fountain of too-strong ale.”

The simile made Justin smile, bringing a vivid picture to mind of the bung being shot from a cask and the ale fountaining up for a few moments and then continuing to bubble out frothily. It was an image of light spirits, and most of him was humbled in grateful wonder that so charming and clever a woman could set aside the fear most felt in his presence and desire him so ardently. One little part, bitter and ugly, remembering others who had insisted he was a delight to them, recalled Lissa's pointed and provocative “I expect favor.” What sort of favor? When?

“I am not so sure about that ashlar bit, though,” he said very gravely. “As I remember, the stones are fitted so that half of two top stones meet in the middle of each bottom stone. Now, if you are planning to get another woman to share me, I wish to point out that neither of you would be settled in a suitable position to—ouch!”

The complaint was very mild and meek, even though Lissa had bitten him quite sharply on the neck. He knew he had been shocking, but he had wondered how far Lissa would go to get or keep his favor. The painful result was a good sign. He had almost been afraid that she would signify her willingness to share the debauchery he had implied. She lifted her head now to where she could see him and raised her brows.

“Do not allow your lecherous mind to run away with you,” she remarked without heat. “I am not at all a generous or a sharing person, and if another woman came into our lives, you might find that no position at all was suitable.”

“Are you threatening me?” Justin asked, amused and shocked all at once.

Lissa's eyes widened. It was the only language her coward of a father understood, but it was all wrong for Justin. She put out her hand and said softly, “I suppose I was. Do forgive me, my love. I was not thinking, and it was all a jest. If you want to know why I said ashlar, it is because you are so tall. I had to rise on my toes to place my arms around your neck, and the stone formation in which the top stone overlaps the bottom by a handspan or so at each end came into my mind.”

Justin began to laugh again, pulled her tight against him for a moment, and then said, “I will have to take care not to smother you.”

“Do you do that often?” Lissa asked.

“That is between me and my priest, or me and God,” Justin said warningly, thinking she was about to protest his use of whores.

“I am glad to know you confess, but what do you do with all the bodies?”

Lissa's look of bright-eyed interest was irresistibly comical when coupled with her statement. Justin groaned horribly and squeezed his eyes shut. “If you do not stop teasing me,” he said, putting his hands around her neck, “you are going to find out.”

She turned her head and kissed one of his hands. “I am so glad to laugh again. It has been a long time—I did not realize how long—since I have truly enjoyed a jest. But we do have more serious matters to discuss.” And on those words, she went and closed the door.

“Your visit to Lady Margaret?” Justin asked.

“You are too duty-ridden,” Lissa said. “I meant personal matters, but I can say what little I have to say about Lady Margaret first. I learned nothing from her, but I can tell you what I saw myself. Vesci is not with her, and she is very ill attended—I saw only five rather old men-at-arms and two maids—and the house is nearly unfurnished.”

“So it seems my first guess was right. She was sent south alone so Vesci could again cry out of being cuckolded by John. But as you said, no one would believe it, not now, unless there were proof. I wonder if there is a sheet with the king's privy seal on it and no message.” Justin chewed his lower lip thoughtfully, then shrugged. “It is too late to worry about that. John will be leaving Windsor for Portsmouth tomorrow…hmmm. I think I will just set a man to watch that lady and see which direction she takes when she also leaves.”

“Send Halsig, unless you need him for something more important,” Lissa said.

Justin stared at her as if she had turned green. “What did you say?”

“I asked you to give the special duty to Halsig,” Lissa repeated, cocking her head questioningly. “Have I done wrong? I meant no offense, and I have no private reason to praise him. It is just that I have spoken to the man several times. He seemed to me to be interested in why and how Peter died, rather than just taking orders dully. He was cleverer than the others. Also, I thought he seemed somewhat disappointed when you dismissed him to his regular duty that morning in Peter's house. Surely such a man could be used for better things than bashing heads.”

“But he is the captain of a troop…” Justin's voice drifted into silence, and he frowned. “Still, I could speak to him.”

“I am sorry if I should not have made a suggestion about one of your men,” Lissa said, thinking that she had paid her debt to Halsig and would do him damage if she said more. She was not really sorry she had introduced the subject, however. It was a relief and a delight to learn that Justin was able to reconsider a fixed idea he had, even though he was not accustomed to having women intrude into his business.

And then he gave her more pleasure by smiling at her, although he still seemed mildly surprised, and saying, “No reason why you should not make suggestions about the men. I was only surprised that you should be able to tell Halsig from any of the others. Women tend to avoid my guards.”

“I have not had much choice,” Lissa pointed out. “And it was Halsig with whom I discussed meals for the men and such matters. He was very civil and thoughtful of my problems, even polite—”

Justin laughed, then took her by the shoulders and kissed her. “Only you, my love, would worry about whether the watchmen ate or not! Of course Halsig was polite and thoughtful. Often the poor devils must get their own food or go hungry, and are not offered even the simplest meal of bread and cheese, and there you were concerned lest soup and cold meat and ale were not sufficient.”

“But that is wrong.” Lissa's brow wrinkled. “My mother and my grandfather taught me that fair work deserved fair pay. The men were in a sense working for me—guarding my house and seeking my husband's killer. I owed them—” She stopped and laughed. “What a silly subject. I promise I will make no more suggestions about your men.”

“There is no need for that,” Justin assured her again. “I will be glad to hear anything you have to say.”

“You cannot really mean that!” Lissa exclaimed, her small face gleaming with suppressed mischief. “No man in his right mind would extend such an offer to a woman.”

Justin did not make any verbal answer, merely raised his hands and put them gently around her neck. She laughed and then grew sober and exclaimed contritely because they were still standing not far from the door and Justin had not even been invited to take off his cloak.

“Although I would think, my love,” Lissa said on a note of gentle reproach, “that you would not need a special invitation in my house.”

“I assure you I do not.” Justin lifted her chin and kissed her lips. “You gave me such delight that I forgot not only my cloak but how tired I was.” With which words he pulled the pin from the cloak, laid the garment in Lissa's outstretched arms, and—without invitation—walked over and sat down in her father's chair, pushing the footstool away with a booted foot to a suitable distance for his long legs. It occurred to him then that Lissa had not moved, and he looked at her and grinned. “What is it? Is it right to take off my cloak without asking but wrong to sit in this—Oh, Lord, there is only one chair. Have I taken your seat?”

“No, do not be foolish,” Lissa said, her voice shaking only a little. “But why are you all in mail? Have you been fighting?”

“No, nor do I expect a battle. I was summoned by the mayor to attend the ceremony of appointing a deputy Standard Bearer to take FitzWalter's place, which means, of course, that I never even began, much less concluded, my business with Hamo Finke.”

“Who was named deputy Standard Bearer?” Lissa asked and then, before Justin could answer, said, “No, do not tell me yet. We can talk of that at leisure over our meal.” She laid his cloak carefully on the stripped bed, placed a stool right beside the chair, and sat down but did not lean against him. “Let us get practical business out of the way before we begin on politics,” she said. “I must go to Hamo tomorrow also, and I was going to ask you if I could just take Paul—”

“Unless your business is so private that you do not want me in Hamo's place at the same time, I will escort you myself.”

“It is not private at all,” Lissa said. “I must draw money to buy certain spices, since my father took some of our stock with him on his journey to use as barter goods. So after I see Hamo, I must visit the Hanse. My uncles are not there, but they have instructed one of the factors, who is always there, to attend to my affairs as if I were one of the brotherhood. I suppose in a sense I am; I have daughter's share from my mother.”

“Daughter's share in a Hanse shipping business?” Justin laughed and shook his head. “Let us marry at once, dear heart. I had no idea you were so valuable a prize.” Then he looked puzzled. “Why did your father marry you to a goldsmith? That craft is the least likely to profit from or care for your link with the Hanse. A wool merchant would have paid the full value of your dower for you in gold. Even a mercer would have bid high. Why of all men a goldsmith?”

Lissa's lips twisted wryly. “I have no idea, but I assure you that he had his reasons and made his profit. I had expected, since I am a daughter, that he would have married me young to a second or third son of a fellow pepperer who also would have paid well to have his boy settled into a good business. Many offered and I was very angry when he always found an excuse to turn the offers away.” She stopped, blinked, grinned broadly, then jumped up from the stool, leaned down, kissed Justin hard, full on the lips, pulled free before he could grasp her, and said, “Never mind. I am glad now. If he had done what he should, I would be a sour wife with a large nursery instead of a widow dame with free choice.”

“I cannot imagine you sour.”

“Ah, just wait until you see my face when you tell me you cannot take off that steel shirt and stay to eat with me.” Lissa turned her lips down and Justin laughed.

“I do not dare—and do not wish to, but perhaps you do not realize this hauberk is your best protection. Had I been free of it, you might not have escaped me after a kiss like that. I am neither celibate nor saint. Take warning.”

“Tell me how to take it off you.”

Justin stood up. “It might be better to call your man. It is heavy.”

Lissa shook her head, and though she felt herself blushing, she met his eyes. “There may be a time or a reason for not wanting another person. Let me try.”

Justin's own color rose, the implication of Lissa's remark being unmistakable, but he made no overt response. He was aware of the care she had taken not to give an open invitation. She was not teasing him now, and apparently she
had
taken warning.

Since Justin had had enough occasions to practice methods of being rid of his mail without much assistance as his old trusted servant grew older and feebler and, recently, because of his reluctance to use Hervi, the procedure was not difficult. Bending from the waist, he instructed Lissa to pull the hood over his head and the sleeves forward over his hands. As he bent farther forward and backed away, the weight of the mail was added to the force Lissa was exerting, and the whole garment slid off into her arms. She very nearly dropped it, but she had been warned of its weight and had some practice shifting heavy bales in emergencies, so she curled her forearms upward and clutched the hauberk to her chest, letting her shoulders take most of the strain.

A moment later Justin had straightened up and taken the burden from her. He held the hauberk in his left arm as if it were nothing, using his right hand to cup Lissa's chin so he could kiss her as well as thank her gravely for her expert assistance. She laughed at him, but there was something different in the touch of his lips, and as he went to lay the hauberk on the bed beside his cloak, Lissa's courage broke. She fled from the solar and down to the workroom. Just outside the door, she stopped and caught her breath, letting the familiarity of the scene calm her.