Masques of Gold (35 page)

There was a gasp when Lissa opened the door to the workroom, a sound of fear; it could not have been one of surprise because Paul had opened the front door to his master. All must have known who had come…Lissa paused with her hand still on the door. It had been closed. But in summer that door was always left open to take advantage of whatever breeze made its way down from the open windows on the upper floor. One could not leave windows or doors open on the ground floor at night; that would be an invitation to the thieves who roamed the dark. With the door to the shop closed, the workroom became an airless box, hotter because of the fire that was in use all day for brewing.

Paul stood up and looked at her. Even by the light of the night-candle she could see how pallid his face was. She drew him into the shop, closing the door gently behind them, and whispered, “What is it? What is wrong?”

“Oliva has run away,” Paul whispered back. He swallowed hard. “She said she would not go back to—to his bed and she…” His voice shook so that he had to stop.

“I do not blame her at all,” Lissa whispered, chuckling with delight at the thought of her father's fury before she thought of what would happen to Oliva. “Poor woman,” she added, and then, “No, I will save her. Paul, go see what there is in the larder that I can give my father for an evening meal. Give me a minute to think.”

By the time Paul came back with bread, cheese, part of a hard sausage, and a flagon of wine, Lissa was smiling broadly again. “Listen. I will tell my father that out of spite, because he took the money and plate and even the rare spices, I would not have his leman in the house, and I drove Oliva away. She will then be blameless and I will so testify for her if it becomes necessary. But I do not think it will come to that if you know where she is hiding.”

Paul stared at Lissa for a minute and then took her hand and kissed it, which puzzled her, but she forgot about it as he whispered, “Yes, I know.”

“Good,” Lissa said. “Tell her to seek shelter in the hut in the garden of Flael's house on Goldsmith's Row. I will meet her there tomorrow, as early as I can. I think I can find a shelter for her for a few weeks. That will be time enough to see what my father intends to do about her. If I must, I will send her away.”

“Thank you,” Paul whispered and took and kissed her hand again.

Lissa, whose mind had gone back to her own problem, did not stop to wonder why Paul should thank her so fervently. At the moment it seemed reasonable that he did so in Oliva's stead. She told him that no doubt her father would question him about what she had been doing. If he so much as mentioned Justin's name, she would cut out his tongue, but he was free to tell William anything else.

“I want him to know about Chigwell's offer,” she said, and “particularly about how Edward comes courting. But try to seem reluctant to tell him about Edward. Do you understand?”

A pleased grin spread slowly over Paul's face as he realized how Lissa intended to manipulate her father, and he nodded vigorously.

“And bring up your pallet for my father to sleep on,” she finished. “You can use Oliva's for tonight, but you must get rid of it in the morning before he comes down, and be sure the boys tell the same story you do.”

For nearly a month before he returned to London, William Bowles had been constantly in a foul temper. First one thing and then another had conspired to irritate and frustrate him. First, King Philip had brought the French army east just in time to prevent him from going to Reims and getting the seal from Flael's sons. Then the stupid allies had lost the battle so that he had to flee Holland with an angry and contemptuous captain instead of a subservient and pleasant one. And when he had sent a messenger to Bristol, ostensibly to say his business was taking longer than he expected but really to find out if the old man had died so he could go back and purchase Red Cliffs, he discovered that not only had the old vintner clung to life but he had found another prospective purchaser. Amias had first claim, of course, but that meant he had to ride all the way to Bristol and pay out another quarter's rent to hold the claim. Worst of all, if the other purchaser did exist and if he was persistent, Amias would have to pay a fair price for the manor.

Now William had begun to wonder whether selling the London business would provide enough money. He would have to get a substantial reward from FitzWalter. There was no comfort to be had in that thought, and all the way from Bristol to London William had tested this scheme and that for getting what he thought news of the seal was worth.

The disparity between what he desired and what he would dare ask from FitzWalter was great enough, William being no fool, to feed his fury until it gnawed like a worm in his belly. And that rage was little appeased when he looked at his bed, reft of mattress, feather bed, and curtains, a sure sign of how eager Lissa and Oliva were to be rid of any reminder of him. Then he suddenly remembered his plans to sell the house, which contained the shop, as well as the business. The worm in his belly lay still as he thought of how much Lissa loved the fine stone house her grandfather had had built in the expectation that his grandchildren would enjoy it for many generations. Lissa loved the business too, and William knew it was mostly her hard work that had built it to its present worth.

William smiled and the grinding in his belly eased. He sat down in his chair and smiled more broadly as he thought over what he would force Oliva to do to pay for her crime. He knew quite well that she might only have been obeying Lissa's orders when she removed the bed furnishings and that, slave that she was, she could not disobey. The knowledge added a certain fillip to his pleasure; the agonies of the helpless were more amusing somehow than those of a bitch who snarled and snapped back like Lissa. Still, when he contemplated what Lissa would feel when she discovered that
her
house and
her
business had been sold out from under her feet, that she no longer had a roof over her head nor owned a stick of the furniture that was so precious to her, a warm delight suffused him. He only regretted that he would not be there to see it himself.

These cozy plans for enjoyment suffered their first check when Lissa came up with the platter of food. William looked at her in surprise and then twisted his mouth in scorn. “If Oliva has claimed sickness to avoid coming to my bed, you are a fool to have believed her and bothered to carry up my evening meal yourself. Just shout to her to come up. If I go down to get her, it will be the worse for her.”

“Oliva has not been in this house since the day I came back to it,” Lissa said. “So you can get up and move the table, or I will set this on a stool if—”

“What do you mean, Oliva is gone?” William roared. “She was my slave. I bought her. You had no right—”

“Perhaps not, but I could see no reason to keep your leman in my house. You can send out to seek her, but I bade her go in February, and if she is not beyond measure stupid, she was out of London under some man's protection that very day.”

William leapt to his feet, gibbering with rage, and came toward Lissa with his fist raised. She kept the tray between them so he could not reach her and said, “Gamel will be here any day, and I will hit you with this flagon if you do not let me be. You had no right to take every farthing out of the business. I was angry. By the time I thought I could have sold her instead, she was gone—and that is that.”

He grabbed the platter from her, pushing her so hard she staggered back, dropping the flagon. He came at her again, having flung the tray away, and slapped her face. Lissa staggered back again, tripped over the stool, and fell. William charged at her and kicked her, but she had expected that and was already rolling away and up on her knees, grabbing the stool and holding it by the seat with the legs pointing at him. She prodded him once hard enough and near enough his genitals to make him gasp with pain and back away, giving her time to climb to her feet. But this time William had not waited. He had turned swiftly and rushed into her bedchamber and shut the door.

Lissa stood gasping for air, absently setting down the stool and rubbing the places that hurt. She had been surprised by her father's violence. Usually he threatened and screamed like a child in a tantrum, but nothing came of it. She listened intently, fearing he might damage her possessions, but then she shrugged. There was no tool with which he could break the chair or bed or chest, and he probably would not tear the bedclothes because he wanted to sleep in comfort.

A sound made her tense and brought her hand to her throat, but the gold chain and carved ivory picture of her mother that she always wore were safe, and she no longer had any other jewelry. The few other pieces had been taken from Flael's house, and she had refused to allow Justin to buy anything for her. The thought of Justin made her close her eyes in pain, but the pang of grief and longing was thrust into the back of her mind by the sound of footsteps pounding up the stair. Lissa had just time enough to realize the noise she had heard had come from below when Paul rushed into the room with a heavy pestle in his hand, his face twisted with hate. Lissa drew a deep, steadying breath as he stopped and stared around.

“Hush,” she said softly before he could speak, and gestured him to go out. She followed him onto the landing of the stair and drew the door closed. “I am not hurt,” she assured him. “Let us go down. I will sleep with the boys in the workroom. You put your pallet by the foot of the stair so that he cannot come down without giving us warning. It is better that he sleep in my chamber so I can go out and arrange for Oliva's safekeeping without him knowing I am gone.”

At first light, Lissa slipped out of the house, taking the two boys with her. She wanted to discover what they were likely to tell her father if they were questioned. To her relief she found that they had, as she had hoped, slept soundly and remained unaware of Justin's visits, barring the few he had made during the day when Gamel and Gerbod had been in London. And, apparently by a direct special dispensation from the Merciful Mother, neither of the apprentices had been present any of the times she had driven Edward out of the house. Thanking God, Mary, and all the saints that she did not need to rehearse the boys in complicated lies, Lissa told them that Oliva had run away. This they knew, and both nodded with eyes large and round with fear.

“If my father learns that you did not stop her or run above at once to tell him,” Lissa went on, “you will be punished. I do not think it fair. There was nothing you could do to stop her. For my own reasons I told my father that I sent Oliva away the day he left. I do not think my father will question you, but if he does, you are to say only that Oliva has been gone a long time and that there have been many different maids since then.”

Both boys nodded again, much more happily this time, for claiming ignorance and using vague terms like “a long time” was easy for them. She then gave Ninias a penny and two farthings and told him to buy a pound of candles in the market. Witta got two farthings and instructions to get two dozen eggs—and not to break them. Both were to go home when they had made their purchases and not to linger. If they were asked where she was, they were to say she was also at the market and had sent them home ahead; and they had better arrive before she did.

When the boys ran off, Lissa walked quickly west to Friday Street and into the alley that led to the back of Flael's house. Oliva was in the hut, pressed against the back wall and trembling with terror when Lissa opened the door. She fell to her knees as she recognized her mistress and began an incoherent plea, which Lissa cut off with assurances that she would do what she could to help. She then explained to Oliva what she had told her father and what she hoped to be able to do, but when she turned to leave, the woman clung to her skirt half fainting with fear at the thought of being taken by slave catchers. She was too frightened to take in Lissa's explanation easily, and it took Lissa some time to convince Oliva that no one was searching for her and that it would be safe to remain in the hut until she returned to get her.

Lissa was more patient than she might have been under other circumstances. She wanted Oliva to remember her flight as a time of terror and misery, lest it breed in her a tendency to escape every time she was given an unpleasant order; thus she was willing to take the time to make clear what would have happened if she had not been protected by her mistress's lies while easing her immediate fears.

The market was just coming fully awake when Lissa walked to the widest part of the Chepe where stalls were being erected. With more of an eye this once to who had goods already displayed than to the quality, Lissa chose a leg of lamb, a rump and tail of an ox, two chickens, and a variety of greens. She paid the butcher, farmer, and hen wife, told them to hold her purchases, and turned back to Goldsmith's Row. She was early, which she intended, but not so early, she hoped, that she would catch Master Goscelin and Mistress Adela in bed. This hope was fulfilled; the journeyman who opened the door to her smiled and told her to go up, the master and mistress being at their morning meal.

Lissa had cemented her friendship with Goscelin and his wife over the months she had been Justin's mistress—not that she had admitted to the relationship or been with him when she visited them or when Adela came to visit her—but she had not seen Adela since Gerbod set sail. That was longer than she had ever gone without at least sending a note to explain why she could not repay the visit, but Lissa had no intention of beginning her plea for help with excuses. So, as soon as she opened the door, she said, “I have just committed a crime, and I hope you will aid me in escaping the consequences.”

Goscelin burst out laughing and waved her to a stool, which she brought to the table. “Criminals,” he remarked blandly, tearing off a large chunk of bread and placing it before her, “never seem to stop for breaking their fast. Will you join us?”

“Yes, indeed I will,” Lissa said, reaching eagerly for the various foods Goscelin prodded toward her. “This criminal missed her evening meal as well as breaking her fast. My father came home last night.”

“You did not murder him, did you?” Goscelin asked, with a thread of anxiety under his jesting manner.

“No, I was glad to see him—for about five minutes. I have been run off my feet you know, doing his share of the business as well as my own.”

“I heard you were seeking a—a partner to share the work with you,” Adela said.

“Oh, no I was not!” Lissa exclaimed, garbling the words and needing to catch the overflow from her mouth in her hand because she had been too eager to reply to chew and swallow properly. She licked the crumbs off her palm and explained about the sudden wave of offers of marriage. “And I could not refuse Chigwell outright,” she went on more collectedly. “He made me too good an offer, and for the moment I forgot Edward went with it.”

“But Edward Chigwell is a very fine young man,” Adela cried. “He is kind and virtuous—”

“And so dull and pompous you would not believe it,” Lissa interrupted. “If he knew what I had done, he would first faint and then run to the sheriff. I know I could not go to him with this problem.”

“And you could not go to Justin with it?” Goscelin said quietly. He was surprised when Lissa did not blush and look away but turned furious eyes on him.

“Of course I could not. I could not go to any man with this crime—although I fear Justin would just laugh—so I beg you to finish breaking your fast and leave me to confess to Adela.”

At that Goscelin laughed more heartily than before, finished his wine, and rose to his feet. Lissa kept her eyes on her food, feeling distressed because she had deceived him by her manner into thinking she was jesting about having committed a crime. It was for his own good, to protect him from involvement, but she did not like to manipulate her friends, even for their own good.

So when Goscelin was gone, she said quickly to Adela, “I made a jest of it, but it really is a crime. That was why I sent Goscelin away and could not ask Justin's help. How could I involve them in keeping my father's runaway slave leman?”

Adela frowned. “Do you expect me to keep her? You do not seem to be considering Goscelin's reputation. He is an alderman, after all.”

“He is also well married, and you are here in the house. Also, Justin is known to have visited my house, whereas I do not believe Goscelin ever set eyes on Oliva in his life. And even if he had seen her and desired her, he would not have brought her to your home.” She grinned at Adela. “No one would believe you would allow
that
.”

“I did not mean that kind of reputation.” The goldsmith's wife laughed. “I meant defying the law.” Then she asked curiously, “Is she such a beauty?”

Lissa thought about it, frowning. “I suppose she is rather beautiful. I never thought about it before because she slides along the walls trying not to be noticed. She was just the woman my father bought to be our maid and then took to his bed. I thought it disgusting that he should use her so openly, but I did not understand how much against her will it was until my father returned and the poor woman fled the house rather than lie with him.”