Masques of Gold (29 page)

“What gossip?” Lissa put more wood on the fire and then picked up Justin's shirt but did not hold it out to him. “Say you stay with me. Say your man does have a loose tongue. All he knows is that my journeyman came for you, you went with him in haste, and you did not come home. Surely you have done that before in response to summonses from others—solved their problems, listened to their troubles, and then gone on to your pleasures. I promise there will be voices enough to swear you left this house at a reasonable hour.”

He took the shirt from her hand. “Not this night, dearling. You make a good case, but I do not like to ask people to lie for me, especially not serfs and journeymen who may be tortured without a second thought for revenge that might be taken. Not that where I sleep is likely to become a matter of great enough importance to torture anyone for an answer, but it makes me uneasy to know a lie may be needed. I will go home and lie in my cold, hard bed—” Justin had been mocking his reluctance to leave in tones of drawling self-pity, when a pleasant idea occurred to him and he said much more briskly, “Which reminds me, I must now order a bed, and how are we to arrange your choosing of it? We should not delay—”

“Why should you order a bed?” Lissa asked. “Do you have some complaint about the bed in which we lay?”

“Of course not, but—”

“This was my mother's chamber, and the furnishings are of her choosing. It is now mine, part of my dowry. I did not take it with me to Peter's house because”—Lissa's voice grew fainter and slightly uncertain—“because Peter had a fully furnished house and…”

“And you did not wish him to sleep in your bed,” Justin finished. “We will talk no more about a new bed. I will be honored to have our bedchamber so furnished.”

The reason Justin gave had never entered Lissa's mind, and she was both surprised and a trifle amused by the hidden jealousy that was its cause and the self-satisfaction of his tone. However, it was true enough; had she thought of it, Lissa knew she would not have wanted to lie with Peter in her own bed.

Justin had put on his shirt while he spoke and pulled on chausses and braies. Lissa tied his sleeves and neck ties and picked up his cross garters, but he took them from her hands and told her to dress herself because she was shivering. Lissa did as she was told, grateful for what she believed was Justin's steady consideration for her, and he was ready to lace her tunic and sleeves when she needed help. He had just come back into the bedchamber from the solar where he had gone to build up the fire—which they would have done if they had not left that room—and helped her restore the bed to at least outward order.

Even after all was ready, however, they could not bear to part, and Justin pushed the table aside so that Lissa could sit beside him on the stool. Their fingers twined together, hand stroked hand, as they talked quietly of when they would meet on the morrow and what business should be done first.

There were some words that were not completely loverlike; Lissa first thought Justin too protective for her taste when he said he would come and escort her to the goldsmith's shop, and she asked him if he planned to be her gaoler. To which he retorted that she was a ninny. If she asked her journeyman to escort her to Hamo Finke's house, in whose hands did she plan to leave her shop while they were both gone? The maid's? The apprentices'?

Lissa had forgotten momentarily that no one but Paul or she could serve in the shop; however, even if Paul could not escort her, she did not really want Justin to be seen too often by neighbors who might mention him to her father. Since she could not admit that to him, she suggested tentatively that she would be riding. Justin acknowledged that was safer than being afoot but reminded her that if the men who had searched Peter's house wanted to harm her, they would lie in wait at her doorway to follow her and do their work as soon and swiftly as they could; they would not wander around London hoping to catch sight of her.

They compromised at last. Justin would send a man to escort her to Hamo's and from there would take her care into his own hands. To the latter she agreed readily, since she intended to introduce him to her uncles' factor and see whether some favors—on both sides—could be arranged. If the factor would see to it that Justin's trading affairs with merchants of the Hanse were attended to fairly and courteously, Justin would see that Gamel and Gerbod were not beaten unnecessarily by the watch nor detained longer than it took to get a message to him.

“I will even promise that the watch will not lay a hand on your uncles,” Justin added.

“Oh, do not promise that!” Lissa exclaimed, laughing. “You do not know Gamel and Gerbod. It is often not possible to stop their merrymaking without applying a cudgel firmly to their heads. What I am most anxious about is that they be let go as soon as they are sober and have paid their fines, or if they are without funds that I be summoned and told what to pay. Several times each has been held so long that cargoes promised to them were lost. Perhaps that was the purpose of holding them, but such delays are costly to me also, and I hope they can be avoided.”

“Your uncles must ‘play' with considerable spirit,” Justin remarked mildly. “I am looking forward to meeting them.”

Not before I get to them and explain this and that, Lissa thought, but all she said was that she expected Gamel sometime in May.

“We will marry then,” Justin said, getting to his feet suddenly. “You will have a man of your own blood to look over the contract and to support you. I will not wait longer than that, Lissa.”

She stood up too, and he held her against him and kissed her hard. He was aroused again, which surprised her because, to her mind, there was nothing in what they had been saying that was exciting. All she could do was ask again if he wished to stay, but he put her aside almost roughly and went to the bed where, his back to her, he donned his arming tunic.

“Shall I—” Lissa began.

“Stay where you are and leave me alone,” he said.

With his back still to her, Justin bent forward and slid his arms up inside the hauberk, opening it and lifting it so his head and shoulders could follow. The bed was too low for him to slide into the garment easily, and Lissa twitched to help him, biting her lip. He pulled back and wriggled forward twice before he forced his body far enough into the limp mail to stand up and let it slide down him. Finally he belted on his sword, pulled his cloak around him, and turned back to face her.

“I still have FitzWalter's business to do tomorrow after we are finished at the Steelyard. Will you want me to bring you home?”

“No, I am going there to look at what stock is held by my uncles' factor, if any. Then I will go on to see what others have. Master Wilhelm will escort me himself if he can. If he cannot, as it is such short notice and he may have other business, he will send one of his servants. I will promise, if you like, not to go unescorted, but I doubt anyone would follow me once I am seen with you, so—”

“Am I to come here later or not?” he interrupted, his voice almost metallically harsh.

Lissa ran forward and took his face in her hands. “Justin…” She shook her head sharply, let go of him, and stepped back. “We will only quarrel if we talk any more tonight. Do not be a fool. Of course I expect you tomorrow—as soon as it is dark. I will wait so we can eat together. I do not care about dinner; I can eat with my people or eat alone—dinner is business. But the joy of sharing the evening meal…I will wait, Justin, until you come, whenever it is.”

“I will do my best not to be late, but I cannot always be sure—”

“I understand,” she said, and went back to the fireside to take a candle and lead him down the stairs.

The door to the workroom was open, and Lissa could see two dark silhouettes seated before the fire as she held the candle up so Justin could lift the bar on the door. Justin had apparently seen them also and suspected, as she did, that they were listening intently. He said a polite good-night and then, one corner of his mouth twitching, thanked Lissa gravely for her kind entertainment. Gazing straight into his eyes, Lissa said, with equal gravity, that she had never had a guest it was less trouble to entertain—and stamped heavily on Justin's foot. There was an odd, gasping noise as he passed through the door, but Lissa did not try to discover the exact cause of the sound, only closed the door and called out to Oliva to set the bar again and make ready for bed.

The next evening it was both harder and easier to part. The anxiety was less because each was more trusting, more sure of the partner's steady affection—and sexual enthusiasm. The pain was greater because they were even more eager to remain together, whether for simply talking over the events of the day or for exercising newfound ways of making each other half mad with lust.

By the time Justin finally staggered to the hearth and pulled on his clothes, it was very late, and Lissa did not bother to dress. She only drew on a bed robe so she would not freeze when she walked downstairs with Justin to have a few more moments with him. Paul and Oliva would not talk. Justin was not worried about how late it was either, although he refused to stay the whole night because he never did so in the houses in Southwark where he went to buy his pleasure with women. That was where he had arranged that Hervi be told he had gone. It was simple enough.

Justin took a breath preparatory to pulling the door open and stepping out into the freezing air. Then he remembered something he had been meaning to tell Lissa all day, and he turned back to her. “You were right about Halsig,” he said, giving in and leaning on the door. “He was very pleased to be set to watching Lady Margaret. He had a few excellent ideas on how to approach her men-at-arms. And, from some things he said, I think he would like to take service with me directly.”

“Is that possible?” Lissa asked, showing her knees were as shaky as his by leaning on him.

She seemed to be keeping her mind on the subject better than he, Justin thought, because she went on, “I think Halsig is a man you could trust, and you said you did not like your present servant.”

Not to be outdone, although warmth was spreading insidiously from his loins throughout his body, Justin said calmly, “True enough, but I like Hervi's woman, and I think life would be hard for her if I dismissed them.”

“Will you let me know where Lady Margaret goes?” Lissa asked, then lifted her head and kissed him under the chin, whereupon Justin said “Traitress!” pushed her away, and went out.

Lissa laughed softly as she pulled the door shut and dropped the bar in place. Then she looked toward the workroom. That door was open, as it had been the night before, but the fire had been banked and there were no seated silhouettes. Lissa hoped Oliva had come up softly to the solar and taken her bedding while she and Justin were in the bedchamber. Something about the maid's behavior had been tickling Lissa's mind these past few days, but she was too tired just now to worry about it. She had no intention of calling Oliva when she did not need her help either to undress or to warm the bedclothes, and the last thing Lissa wanted was to talk to anyone; she had barely strength enough to crawl up the stairs and into bed.

The next day she was almost too busy to think about Justin. It was long after dark—not until she bade Oliva take food up to her chamber while she covered and put away the last of the medicines she had been preparing for sick customers—when she realized how very late he was. It did not trouble her; she never doubted he would come. And to make sure he would not doubt she waited, she set a taper where it would shine through the half-open shutter of her bedchamber window. Then she allowed herself to doze in her chair, smiling as she drifted off to sleep because she was simultaneously thanking God that Justin had not arrived and she could rest and also thanking God that she would be in his arms again very soon. She thought she would hear his knock and be down the stairs in time to let him in, but Paul or Oliva would admit him if she slept too soundly. It was useless after last night to pretend he was not her lover.

A grumbling belly woke her. Lissa nibbled on bread and cheese, taking care not to eat her fill so that whenever Justin came, if he was hungry, she would be able to eat with him. Even when she heard the bells for Compline her only concern was that Justin would be terribly cold and tired—and in no mood for interruptions, whether he wanted to eat, sleep, or love. She thought a moment about the wisdom of what she wished to do, then shrugged and called down to Oliva.

The maid seemed frightened when she came up, which puzzled Lissa until she guessed, after Oliva had helped her to undress and put on a warm bed robe and slippers, that she had expected to bear the brunt of Lissa's disappointment in her lover. That amused Lissa very much, but she did not try to disabuse the maid of her notion, only told Oliva to take her pallet and blankets down to the workroom because she would be sleeping there in the future.

The woman's lips parted as if she were about to protest, but Lissa's ears, keen with expectation, caught the sound of a horse's hooves on the hard frozen street. “Go!” she ordered, scooping up the bedding, thrusting it into the maid's arms, and shooing Oliva before her down the stairs. She shut the workroom door firmly behind the maid, and ran to unbar the front door. There had been no knock, but she thought she heard a horse stamp, and Justin might be waiting to see if he would be let in without knocking.

Lissa's first sight and smell of him taught her that the hesitation was less consideration on his part than a difficulty first in dismounting (he was somewhat muddied along one side) and second in finding the door (as she opened it, his shoulder struck her nose and he fell in on her). He made a wordless sound to which Lissa replied sharply, “If you are going to vomit, do it in the street.”

“Certainly,” Justin replied, with enormous dignity. “There can be no chance of my doing otherwise, since I do not intend to come in.”