Masques of Gold (43 page)

Disgusted but not really surprised—men like Hervi seldom had friends who would risk anything for them—Halsig oversaw Hervi's final polishing of everything, then herded him to the privy and finally into the house. He told Mary to feed her husband because he was tired of watching him and intended to tie him up. Hervi whined and protested but desisted when Halsig lifted a hand in threat, and he ate greedily. Halsig was rather disappointed; he had hoped he had frightened Hervi enough to spoil his appetite. If the man was not too frightened to eat, possibly he would not try to run either. Halsig muttered imprecations as he tied him hand and foot.

When he had Hervi stretched out on the floor, he said to Mary, “You did not sweep the other room properly. Get your broom and I will show you what you missed.”

Mary's eyes became pools of fear, but she ran for the broom and followed him, only beginning to whimper with terror when he shut the door.

“Hush, I'm not going to hurt you,” he said to her, taking the broom from her hand, and patting her shoulder gently. “You haven't done nothing wrong. I only wanted to tell you in private that Sir Justin won't keep your husband for a servant any longer. He'll send him away tomorrow.”

Mary had looked up when he said she had done nothing wrong, so Halsig saw her eyes fill with tears when he told her Justin would dismiss her husband. She did not speak—she seldom did—but her head dropped and her whole body slumped in utter hopelessness.

“Not you,” Halsig said hastily. “That's why I wanted to talk to you private. Only Hervi's got to go. Maybe Sir Justin'll give him a good beating. Maybe not. Sir Justin's not one to hold grudges. But he wants you to stay and go on serving him, Mary. He really does want you to stay. He even knows he scares you, so he's going to get Mistress Lissa, that nice lady who was here yesterday, to ask you tomorrow.”

Mary had lifted her head again when Halsig said Justin wanted her to stay. Now tears started to pour down her face. “I want to stay,” she whispered. “It was heaven being here without Hervi when the old man was sick and I was taking care of him, but Hervi won't let me.”

“He's got nothing to say about it,” Halsig replied. “Sir Justin said if you stay, he'll protect you—and I will too, Mary. If you want, I'll tie Hervi loose so he can get free. If he thinks he's running away, he won't want you with him. And if he tries to make you go, just scream.”

“I couldn't,” she breathed. “If I scream, I'll wake Sir Justin—I couldn't!”

“Sir Justin won't be here,” Halsig said. “It'll be me sleeping abovestairs tonight, and never you mind why, nor don't you say a word to anyone about that.”

***

The council was shorter, if no less infuriating, than Justin had expected. He was not late in arriving at Lissa's house. It was still light enough, when he made the turning into Soper Lane, for him to see that the counter was gone. Since the shop was closed, he thought it would be more discreet to ride past and come through the alley, but Paul came out before he reached the door and greeted him, saying he would take Noir. Lissa was just behind her journeyman, and when she saw Justin's grand gown she dropped him a deep curtsy.

“What splendor!” she exclaimed. “It is quite awesome. Who were you trying to frighten to death?”

“Ghaah!” Justin replied, causing Lissa to burst into giggles. “I have wasted a whole afternoon. I should have gone home and changed this gown, but I am in such a temper that I would have murdered my man Hervi if I had seen him.”

“Come up,” Lissa said, drawing Justin in and shutting the door behind him. “I will feed you sweet comfits to take away the taste of the council. And I have a handsome new gown, fortunately not nearly so grand as this one, that you can wear tomorrow.”

Justin laughed. “I think I will either have to give you up or give up my position,” he said, following her up the stairs.

Lissa stopped abruptly and turned to face him, looking frightened. “Why? Who has spoken against me? Justin—”

Justin's heart lurched at her fear. Or was it her guilt? He took her hand. “I was jesting, sweeting, only jesting. I meant only that you have so soothing an effect on me that I will become too mild to punish those who commit crimes when we are married.”

“Justin!” she protested. “You frightened me nearly to death.” But she was smiling as she turned to go up the rest of the stairs, and she spoke again over her shoulder as she entered the solar. “I thought perhaps Master Chigwell was telling the whole city that I had murdered my father.”

This time it was Justin who stopped short. “What?”

“Out of spite because I frightened him into withdrawing his offer of marriage to that dolt Edward,” Lissa said hurriedly. And when she saw how the tension went out of her lover on those words, she continued, making a merry tale of her fears that Chigwell would oppose her acceptance into the pepperers guild and of the device she had used so that he would be glad when she asked him to withdraw his offer.

Laughing with his eyes, Justin mourned aloud at the damage done to his reputation. “You make me out a monster,” he complained.

Lissa contrived to look amazed. “Well, you do not think me such a fool as to tell anyone that you are really gentle and kind. You would be snatched away from me in a minute by some beautiful woman who has nothing to do all day but coddle you—”

He caught her to him. “Coddle herself, you mean, and think herself neglected because I have other duties than to dance attendance on her.” He kissed Lissa's nose and then trailed his lips across her cheek, murmuring, “And you
are
beautiful,” before he began nibbling the lobe of her ear.

“Come into the other room and change your gown,” Lissa whispered.

“If I take off the gown, I will not stop there,” Justin warned her.

Lissa chuckled softly. “We are two busy people. I do not believe in wasted motion either.”

It had grown completely dark before they finished, although they wasted neither time nor motion in the use of bodies from which the clothes had been removed. Justin had had a well of energy to expend from sitting still and holding his tongue when he wanted to bellow and pound the table. Quiet at last, he admitted to Lissa that working off his frustration in her bed was far pleasanter and probably would accomplish equal results.

Lissa lifted herself on one elbow and peered at him in the dim, flickering light that made its way from the hearth across the room to the bed. “You have lost me,” she admitted. “Surely you are not the kind of man who would futter the mayor to make a point—and I know he has faults, but I did not think loving men was one of them.”

Justin laughed aloud. “No, I only meant that shouting at that lot would have been utterly useless, and unfair, too. They are frightened.” He was quiet for a moment and then added, “Well, so am I.”

He threw back the covers and bent down to pick up the bed robe their movements had jostled to the floor. “I am hungry,” he said, and Lissa, who had risen when he did and also picked up her robe, put it on, and went into the solar to call down to Oliva to bring up the evening meal.

When Justin came in, she had lit the candles. He put another log on the fire, and then, to Lissa's delight, he sat down in her father's chair as if he belonged there. But his face had set again, and Lissa asked anxiously, “Justin, of what are you afraid? Surely you are not talking about the disorder that comes with the arrival of many noblemen in London? You are accustomed to dealing with that. Yet what else threatens us? There is a truce for six years with France—”

“If none can bring them to reason, there will be open war between the king and the barons.”

“That is nothing to do with us,” Lissa said, but her voice had become a trifle shrill. “The burghers of London will take no part in such a war.”

“It would be better indeed if the city could close its gates and lay chains across the river and call a pox on both barons and king, but this time we will not be allowed. We will be forced, I think, to show ourselves as for the king or against him. Do you not remember I told you that because FitzWalter is Standard Bearer of the city his men have duties guarding the walls? They could refuse the king entry—or open London to those the king names rebels.”

“The force is not large. They can be driven off.”

Justin laughed mirthlessly. “But then you have taken sides already, with the king. Besides, are you suggesting that the watch fight FitzWalter's guards? Within London?”

“Oh, God, no!” Lissa exclaimed, realizing what she had proposed without really thinking.

“Without ever saying the words, that was what all the quarreling was about at the council.” Justin sighed. “They could not make up their minds to pay the price for the best men-at-arms when so strong a watch will not only cost high but may make both the king and FitzWalter suspicious. Nor could they agree to save expense by keeping the watch as it is and telling the king he is not welcome in the city.”

“Telling the king he is not welcome! Justin, you cannot mean it! He would revoke London's charter and exact such retribution—”

“I heard hints from some aldermen that the barons would defend us.”

“Do you believe it?” Lissa asked.

“They are not strong enough to fight the king…yet. But they
are
strong enough to make real trouble, so the aldermen are caught between the upper and nether millstones. They fear to refuse the king and also fear to offend the barons. But that was all the mayor found as a solution—to save money by not hiring new men and pretend we do not see what is happening, thus chancing looting and fire.”

“I think I am more afraid of the fire than either the king or the barons,” Lissa said.

“I too.” Justin's eyes darkened with memory. “Which is why I am hiring the best men I can get. I reminded the council of what happened two years ago, and at last most agreed that above all else peace must be kept in the streets.”

Oliva came in with their food at that point, and neither said any more until they had taken the edge off their appetites. Lissa would have turned the talk, but Justin could not leave the subject yet.

“What started the argument in council,” he said, staring down into his cup of wine and swirling it gently, “was a letter from the king. I am beginning to think John is mad. He will not see that this is not the time for high talk and threats. He has been beaten at war, and the allies to whom he poured out our money have been utterly ruined. I understand that the money is gone and he needs more—”

“For what?” Lissa asked sharply.

Justin smiled wryly. “To live. King John must pay his servants and buy food for them, even as you and I. He must also repay the Church for what he took by force during the interdict.”

“He stole the money from the Church and now wishes to steal from me to repay them?” Lissa's voice was tight with fury. “The king has lands, greater lands than the greatest noblemen. They live off their lands. Why cannot he?”

“The king must rule. All men benefit from a land at peace, and all men must pay for it, just as you are willing to pay for a strong watch to keep London at peace.” Justin ran a hand through his hair. “And do not tell me that London pays for its own peace. It would do this city little good to have the countryside all around laid waste by warring barons—” He stopped suddenly and then went on, “Yet that is just what we are likely to have if King John does not very soon recognize that this is a time for quiet conciliation, not harsh demands. One of the aldermen read out the letter he sent demanding payment of the scutage levied last May and blaming the English barons for the failure of his campaign because they did not come when he summoned them in July, after the Poitevins deserted him.”

“He is indeed mad if he sent such a letter to the mayor of London,” Lissa remarked indignantly. “London sent every man pledged. We owe no scutage.”

“No, the letter was to a baron, Eustace de Vesci.”

“Eustace de Vesci?” Lissa repeated. “But how could a London alderman have his letter? Vesci is from the north.”

“Ah yes, I remember, his wife buys from you, does she not?” Lissa nodded, and Justin continued, “I do not know how the letter, or a copy of it, came into the alderman's hands, but the man does business with FitzWalter.”

Lissa shivered, but shook her head when Justin asked if he should rebuild the fire. “No, cover the coals for the night. I will be warmer and feel safer abed.”

Justin got up at once and began to bank the fire, burying the glowing coals under a layer of ash that would slow the burning so the coals would keep some spark until morning. Lissa glanced at the remains of their meal, but there was not enough to wrap up for saving. Oliva would clear all away the next day. She got up and began to move about, snuffing the candles, then coming back to stand by Justin. He was still frowning, and Lissa felt she could no longer bear to talk about such great troubles, which no one seemed to have any power to avert. And then in the way thoughts will veer from a deep fear to a lesser one, she recalled what Justin had said when she greeted him at the door.

“What in the world has your man Hervi to do with the mayor allowing the reading of that letter, which he should not have done? Why do you want to murder your servant? Surely he did not bring the letter.”

“No.” Justin straightened up and put an arm around Lissa. “I was angry at him before I started. He is lazy and left my horses and my stable filthy, and he beats his poor wife, who is honest and hardworking. He has been carrying tales of me to someone also, or stealing, because he has too much money. One anger just added to the other, and though he deserves a beating, I suppose, I would have doubled the blows if I had seen him then because I was furious with others. I could not do that, could I?”

“I have known others who could,” Lissa said, rising on her toes to kiss Justin's cheek.