Masques of Gold (49 page)

“Can he think he told you some secret…Oh, he did tell you of the meeting at Bury St. Edmunds,” Lissa said.

“But that is no secret. Many men must know of that or so few would come to the meeting that it would be without purpose. Besides, if I read FitzWalter's intention right, he wants King John to know about it and to be incited to cruelty and oppression. Still, I cannot believe this creature”—he touched Hubert with his foot—“could have thought of so clever a device for getting into your house himself.”

The terror that had gripped Lissa when she first thought that FitzWalter might be behind Hubert's action had been soothed by both Justin's manner and his reasoning, which she found convincing. More at ease, she remembered other things her father had said when she protested Hubert's coming to the house.

“But Hubert knew his failing,” she said. “I know he came to my father to explain what puzzled him, and…yes, once I heard my father telling Hubert what to say and how to act to gain a purpose.”

Justin stood up. “I suppose he found another to help him. Yes, he must have or he would not have killed your father. Now that
is
an interesting idea. I wonder if Hubert's new mentor convinced him apurpose that your father had done him some wrong. If so, that person is more murderer than Hubert.” Justin paused, wondering if that same mentor could have deliberately frightened Hubert into his determination to kill him too, but that was not an idea he would voice to Lissa. Instead he said briskly, “Come up and help me into my armor. I must go home and get some men to pick up Hubert's body and bring it to Baynard's Castle.”

“Justin”—Lissa put a hand on his arm—“could you not simply have him buried? Is it needful to draw Lord Robert's attention to the fact that you killed his man?”

“I did not really kill him, Lissa. In a way it was an accident. He thought he had thrust my sword aside, but it was the scabbard. The bandage partly blinded him, and he did not see that by holding my scabbard, he had fixed my sword arm so that the blade went right into him when he leapt at me. One thing puzzles me, though. Why did he not wear armor? Surely he knew I would try to defend myself. It was stupid—”

“But he
was
stupid, and I heard him boast that he could outfight any man. He is no loss to this world. Bury him quietly. I will even pay for masses for his soul if you think he would be deprived of that succor by not telling FitzWalter—”

Justin caught her in one arm and kissed her. “You are a sweet creature, dearling. I doubt FitzWalter will put himself to any expense or trouble over Hubert's soul.” He led her to the stair and pushed her gently to make her go up. “Forget about him, love. I swear that now he is dead he will not add to the trouble he made while he was alive. And whatever happens, you and I will be well away, for I have decided that we will leave for Canterbury at dawn.”

The remainder of the night was very busy for Lissa, who had to pack in a scrambling hurry without the assistance of Oliva. She had said nothing to Justin, since he too had much to arrange in addition to the removal of Hubert's body, but she was not at all sure it was right for her to go and leave Paul. Fortunately, he opened his eyes and recognized Oliva before Justin returned to the house, and he seemed to understand, although he had no memory of anything after he went to bed, when Lissa told him he had a bad blow to the head and must lie still until his headache was completely gone. She took care that Paul should have the last little hope of surviving by telling Oliva the name of a chirurgeon who might open Paul's head and remove any bone that was pushed in should Paul fall into a sleep from which they could not wake him.

Lissa tried to comfort herself that Paul's waking was a good sign and told herself there was nothing she could have done for him if she had stayed, but she still felt unhappy as she was handed aboard the FitzAilwin boat, which would take them down the Thames to Feversham. From there it was a short ride to Peter's manor, where Justin would leave her and ride on to Canterbury. Still, she managed to fall asleep in the comfortable cabin, and when she woke, very late in the morning, her mood was much lighter.

The same could not be said for Lord Robert FitzWalter, who had not gone to bed much earlier than Lissa, having waited fruitlessly for Hubert to bring her to him long past the hour of Lauds. He slept quite well, having soothed himself by going over in his mind what he would do to Hubert when he laid hands on him, but his mood was not at all improved when he woke and was told that Hubert
had
returned—his body and a letter had been delivered by Sir Justin's servant Halsig.

A violent eruption was stemmed by the terms of the letter, which were not at all what FitzWalter expected. Sir Justin was quite civil—regretting that Lord Robert had had no chance to curb Hubert's behavior and that he had been forced to kill the man when attacked by him in the house of his betrothed. FitzWalter felt considerable regret when he decided that he could not give up even the small chance of finding the seal through Lissa. It was too bad that Justin had a serious interest in her; he would have to be doubly cautious in seizing the woman—it would have to be done on the street in the daytime—and in a way so that Justin would never suspect him.

The letter crumpled in FitzWalter's hand as he considered the consequences of Justin's discovering he was connected with the abduction. He could not frighten or bribe Justin into forgetting what had been done, and Justin FitzAilwin would not be easy to kill and silence that way. Beyond that, Justin kept records of evidence and doubtless confided in his cousins. And his murder would stir those rich and powerful cousins into a frenzy. Worse yet, if they cried murder against him before the merchant community—murder of one the fat burghers regarded as their own—they would forget their quarrels with one another, turn against him, the outsider, and refuse to support him in his struggle with the king. He ground his teeth. It would be better to leave the woman alone.

That decision wavered again when FitzWalter learned that Justin had left London. He sent a trusted clerk, who whispered in the ear of another, not using FitzWalter's name; that man spoke to a third, and he to a fourth; the name of the inquirer had now become Richard FitzAilwin, who was said not to trust his cousin's betrothed. But all the effort was wasted. Bowles's shop was closed, his house locked, his daughter nowhere to be seen. FitzWalter shrugged. He did not want the woman badly enough to break into the house openly, and he doubted any ruse would get the door open, except to a well-known and trusted friend, for a long time.

Two more days passed before FitzWalter heard that Lissa had left London. For a while he was angry, but her trail was cold and messages concerning the meeting at Bury St. Edmunds began to come. Most of these were exactly what FitzWalter wanted them to be. He began to gain confidence that he would achieve his purpose without the dangerous complication of the counterfeit seal, and he put Bowles's daughter out of his mind.

Had FitzWalter seen Lissa at the meeting at Bury, he would have been reminded of the information she might hold, for at first matters did not go exactly as he planned. He knew none of those who had called the meeting would bring a copy of the first Henry's charter, but to his chagrin a copy had been presented to the monks, and the abbot produced it. It was very fortunate that he did not see how Sir Justin grinned at his dismay. The terms limiting the power of the king were far vaguer and less stringent than FitzWalter had intended to suggest, and the discussion was far less fiery than he had hoped.

Still, FitzWalter was not totally dissatisfied with the results. When the discussions were over, the barons gathered in the abbey church before the high altar and swore they would renounce their allegiance to King John if he did not grant to them the laws and liberties of the charter. Then they agreed to go together to the king right after Christmas and present their demands. Most would have ended the meeting at that point, but FitzWalter made an impassioned speech about how helpless they would be should John take ill their protest. Not one voice contested this likelihood, and all agreed to use the month between their parting and their meeting again to gather men and arms and fortify their castles.

“We will use force,” FitzWalter cried aloud, “if John will not listen to reason.”

There were few shouts of approval but none of protest either. Content because he was so sure the king would attack rather than yield, FitzWalter went off to Dunmow to build an army.

Lissa had not accompanied Justin to Bury because Paul was still ill when she and Justin returned from Canterbury. Paul was improving slowly, but by 16 November when Justin left for Bury, the journeyman was still subject to dizzy spells and recurrences of severe headache. Lissa almost wished he were back in bed, utterly helpless, as he had been at first; she could have left him that way. As he was, half cured, she knew he would do too much if she went away, and possibly make the hurt worse than in the beginning.

No angel, Lissa resented having to stay behind and made everyone miserable for two days, but then she received her reward: Gamel and Gerbod sailed into harbor on one ship on 18 November. She rushed down to the dock to greet them, unable to wait for them to come to her as their message suggested. From their cautious manner, Lissa knew they had come together because they were unable to face her misery alone, and she laughed with joy when she told them her troubles were all over. She and Justin were not yet married, but only because they were waiting for her uncles to come and rejoice with them.

Lissa was almost crushed to death by their joyous embraces before she left them to their work, both having promised to come to her house as soon as it grew too dark to unload. When they came, she recounted the events surrounding her father's homecoming and death. It was Gerbod who suggested that Amias FitzStephen might not be a person at all but a false name her father had taken in the hope of escaping the fate that had overtaken him; Gamel nodded and said if the weather held they would sail to Bristol and speak to the vintner who owned the manor at Red Cliff. Lissa shook her head, pointing out that their interest in William dead was far greater than in William alive. For herself, she admitted that Gerbod's guess sounded like truth to her, but she did not care; there was nothing her father had taken that she was truly eager to regain. But the next evening, when uncles and niece began to discuss her wedding contract, her attention was close enough to make her forget the feast of Saint Edmund and the charter of Henry I.

Justin, who had carried the copy of the charter to the monks of Saint Edmund's abbey, was less content than FitzWalter with the outcome of the meeting. On his return to London he was not sorry to find Lissa little interested in what had happened at Bury. He had already described the events and been questioned in detail by the mayor and aldermen. They were greatly alarmed but unfortunately too divided in opinion between their desire to have the charter confirmed and their fear of the king's anger to take any practical action.

The warning Justin tried to give, that FitzWalter was more intent on provoking King John than on obtaining a charter, was not well received. Some shouted their disbelief, and even the others, who felt Justin spoke the truth, bade him be still with equal energy, hoping the problem would disappear if they did not look at it. Thus there was no purpose in repeating to Lissa events and surmises that would frighten her when he was helpless even to take precautions. He was overjoyed to hear that her uncles had come at last and glad to bury his own worries about the future of the city and the realm in prospects of personal happiness.

By the time Gerbod's and Gamel's cargo was sold, the wedding contract was approved by all and signed. With the profit of their venture in their purses and a dull winter looming ahead, Lissa's uncles wanted to throw open the great hall in the Hanse and make a wedding that would be remembered. In a family conclave held in Margaret FitzAilwin's home, Justin's family indicated their full agreement. The only protesters were the bride and groom. Justin's objection, being merely a personal disinclination to be on display, was hooted down, and he stopped arguing when Thomas whispered in his ear that it was the best way to stifle certain rumors.

Lissa meanwhile was pointing out that the pepperers guild might find it a fault in her
gravitas
, her moral seriousness, if she were party to so lavish a celebration less than two months after her father's unsolved murder.

“People die all the time,” Gamel roared.

“Death is one thing,” Lissa responded tartly, “murder is something else.”

“Do you mean you have not yet been accepted as a member of the pepperers?” Justin asked lazily, turning away from his contemplation of the flames dancing in the hearth.

“It is not something I would have forgotten to mention.” Lissa's tone in addressing Justin was no less tart than that bestowed on her uncle.

Margaret FitzAilwin looked sidelong at her nephew, who replied very mildly, “With all that has happened in the last week, you might have forgotten.” Margaret could see a faint curve in the lips of that hard mouth. There was no controlled anger or impatience in Justin at all. His remark was a simply stated fact, but Lissa did laugh at him.

“Do not be so silly, Justin. Even the king's granting that toothless charter or his displeasure would not be as important to me as my membership in the guild.”

“Toothless?” Richard FitzAilwin repeated with some indignation.

“Well, you must admit the charter does not say very much, especially not about
our
problems. I had a real battle yesterday with a seller of ale from York—you know they make the best brew in the north in October—but he wished to charge me for London barrels and deliver York barrels. Why cannot we have one measure throughout the kingdom?”

“A king's charter to concern itself with such small matters?” Richard was shocked.