Masques of Gold (44 page)

He smiled down at her, and they went into the bedchamber. He swung the door closed, his hand slipping down until a splinter of wood caught his finger. Then he turned to look at the uneven place. “The bar is gone,” he said.

Lissa put her arms around his neck. “I had it taken off this morning. I love you, Justin. I believe you love me, and I will never need to lock myself away from you.”

He held her close against him, understanding for the first time how a man could betray everything he had lived by all his life for a woman. When he thought of the hatred and fear in her past, he knew that nothing was worth more than the trust she had shown—not his life, not his honor. Desire rose in him, but it was not the hot, driving beat with which he was familiar. Instead, a suffusion of lightness and warmth spread what he could only call a physical joy throughout his entire body. He lifted her so they would not need to break their embrace to reach the bed, and though they could not undress without unwinding their arms, they continued to touch. He loved her for a long, long time, slowly, resting when they grew too quick and hot. Both came to a new, gentle ending; Lissa did not cry out and claw at him, just trembled and closed her eyes and smiled. And his seed came from him in slow pulses that for once were pure easy pleasure, not a bursting akin to pain.

Justin did not even need to wait to catch his breath, but with the last blissful pulse asked, “When will you marry me, Lissa?”

“When you say, beloved.”

That easy, immediate reply gave him pleasure and troubled him at the same time. He took the time to lift himself off her before he replied. “I am not sure what to do. I wish to bind you fast to me at once, yet that is not fair to you, dearling. You must have a man of your own blood to support you.”

Lissa chuckled as she moved closer, turning her body so that she lay half atop him. “If I were a dishonest and greedy woman,” she said, “I would urge you to write the marriage contract just as you wished. You would be so fearful of cheating me that you would assign me ten times what any man could wrest from you. I say again, I will marry you when and where you say, with or without contract, Justin, but for your sake, if you are willing, I think it would be best to wait a few weeks. I expect my uncles one last time before the winter storms begin. Either one can act for me, and if they do not come, then I will ask Master Goscelin. Will that content you?”

He kissed her for reply, and there was a silence in which Lissa wondered why it was more comfortable to lie against her lover's hard, angular body than on the soft mattress. She smiled in the dark and stroked his arm, thinking him asleep, and was surprised when he spoke.

“I think it would be better if we lived here in your house, if you are willing. The kind of people who are dragged into mine would not be wholesome company for you. Not to mention being wakened by shrieking nightwalkers and bellowing drunks when some inexperienced idiot on the watch feels they must be dealt with in the middle of the night.”

Justin's voice was growing slurred, so Lissa only made a wordless murmur in reply, and his breathing soon slowed and deepened. She thought drowsily that though he might not welcome the disturbance, at least Justin was accustomed to night calls. Lissa did not encourage them, but she never refused to provide help for a severe injury or medicine for an illness that could not wait until morning.

Because it was the last thought in her head before she slept, Lissa felt she was dreaming and only stirred uneasily when the knocking began on the door. Justin had been dreaming, too, but of riot and fire, and he jerked upright and called out a question. His voice woke Lissa, who put a hand on his shoulder as she, too, sat up, about to say, “Go back to sleep, love. It is doubtless a neighbor with a bellyache,” when Paul's voice made a lie of her thought.

“Your man is here, Sir Justin, and he is hurt.”

Justin uttered an oath and leapt out of bed, pulling on his robe as he crossed the room. “Did he bring my armor?” he asked, striding past Paul, and without waiting for an answer, called back over his shoulder, “Bring down my clothes.”

Lissa, who had followed him out of the room, holding her robe about her body, went back and put it on. Then she snatched up Justin's chausses, shirt, gown, and shoes and ran after him. The clothes she carried were not needed. At the door of the workroom she stopped, seeing Justin just ahead of her closing on Halsig, and Halsig struggling upright, steadying himself with one hand on the counter.

“I've killed Hervi, my lord,” he said.

Justin stopped short and blinked. Lissa, realizing there was no riot, no danger to Justin, uttered a long sigh of relief and said, “Sit down, Halsig, you are bleeding. And don't look so tragic. From what I saw of his wife's face, Hervi is no great loss to anyone.”

“Yes, sit down, man,” Justin ordered. “Since you are hurt, it is clear enough that you did not creep up behind Hervi and strike him down—not that you would have needed to do that. What happened?”

“But in a way I'm guilty of his death, my lord,” Halsig began, and told Justin how he had deliberately frightened the man to make him run.

While he told his tale, Lissa bade Paul fetch the large tapers she used when she needed good light for dressing wounds at night. She glanced around for Oliva, to tell her to renew the fire in the hearth, and saw her backed against the closed shelves, trying to drag a pallet away into the corner without being noticed. Without that secretive movement and the guilty way she hunched her body when Lissa looked at her, Lissa would never have noticed anything amiss. And it was Oliva's terrified glance that directed her own to the blankets atop the other pallet. These, although crumpled and tangled, were still noticeably double. Light dawned in Lissa's mind and illuminated the meaning of the workroom door being closed even in the summer's heat, Oliva's eagerness to help at the counter outside, no matter what the weather, and numerous other small incidents: Paul and Oliva were lovers.

Lissa opened her mouth to ask, and then closed it. This was not the time for questions or explanations—and she was not in the least sure what she wanted to say or do. She gave her orders and then got a soft leather packet that held several needles and short lengths of silk thread, which she had found caused less irritation when sewing flesh than linen. Paul had lit the tapers and placed them near Halsig, and Lissa was about to ask him to remove the man-at-arms's clothing when Halsig said, “I thought that big man-at-arms might simply take Hervi away with him. He asked for you, my lord, but I know he didn't want you. He was looking for Hervi all along.”

Lissa paused. Any man Halsig called big must be more than usually outsize, and that called only one person to mind. Justin must have felt the same, because he said, “A big man-at-arms? How big? Can you describe him?”

“Taller than you, my lord, and thicker. That's big. Describe him? Big flat face. Small eyes—gray, I think. Thick lips. Nubbin nose. Reddish stubble, but his hair was brown. Thick reddish hair on his hands too—”

“Hubert de Bosco,” Lissa breathed.

Justin nodded, looking satisfied. “Did Hervi know I would be out of the house tonight?”

“No, my lord, and he wouldn't have known if I let you in the front because I closed the door to the kitchen after I tied him up for the night. Mary untied him—but I told her to, my lord. Or, anyway, I told her to let him go.”

Justin nodded again, looking even more pleased. “Hervi attacked you in my bed, did he not?”

“Yes, my lord. I was asleep, or he'd have never got the knife in me. And the first thing he did when Mary let him loose was to hit her so hard she couldn't move or think for a bit. Still, I'd be dead if not for Mary. As soon as she got her wits back and saw the kitchen door open instead of the outside door, she screamed her head off. And she followed him up the stairs and she—she hit him. That's how I got the knife away from him. He turned around and tried to push her away or hit her, so I was able to grab his knife hand. We were wrestling for the knife and he fell against me—”

Halsig's eyes dropped for a moment; he was pretty sure Mary had pushed her husband just as he had almost twisted the knife from Hervi's grip and it was pointing upward. Then he looked up. She couldn't have known that; she couldn't have guessed what would happen. She was only trying to help, and if any woman deserved vengeance, she surely did.

“The knife went right into his neck, and the blood gushed out so fast there was no way to stop it or help—”

“Oh, Lord,” Justin complained. “All over my bed? Yes, well, it could not be helped, I suppose. I just wish you could have stabbed him somewhere else.”

“Nonsense, Justin,” Lissa said, coming close to Halsig and gesturing to Paul to remove the tunic the older man was wearing. “It was the best place. The furs can easily be washed clean and the bedclothes bleached. Surely, even if they must be discarded, that is better than getting blood on your fine rugs or the floorboards, and you could not reasonably expect Hervi to invite Halsig outside to be murdered.”

Justin began to laugh aloud, and Halsig smiled faintly too, even though he had drawn breath sharply against pain when Paul pulled off his tunic. While they were still smiling, Lissa directed Justin to stand behind his man and hold him steady. Halsig protested faintly, but Justin told him not to be a fool just as Lissa said he was too strong for Paul. She cleaned the cut, which turned out to be not at all dangerous, although very bloody. The knife had not really entered Halsig's chest, merely cut a long gash from just under his left nipple along the curve of a rib. Having stitched him up and applied a salve, dark brown with the leachings from dried seaweed, she hooked a basket of rags from beneath the counter and began to bandage the wound. Seeing Halsig no longer needed support, Justin moved aside. For a few minutes he watched Lissa work, but clearly his mind was not on her activity.

“I do not think Hervi intended to murder Halsig at all,” Justin said suddenly. “You remember I asked if Hervi knew I was not coming home, and he did not. I think he intended to murder me—”

“He would not dare!” Halsig exclaimed. “That mangy rat might think of sticking a knife in me before he ran for good, but you, my lord? He'd know he'd be found and torn to bits for that.”

“Not if he was promised protection as well as gold,” Justin said, smiling brightly. “I think that is what Hubert de Bosco offered. He offered Hervi the protection of Lord Robert FitzWalter—”

“FitzWalter wants you dead?” Lissa whispered, pale as milk even in the golden light of the tapers.

“No, no.” Justin put an arm around her and laughed. “Do not be silly, Lissa. If FitzWalter wanted me dead, he would have killed me when I was in his power in Dunmow. I am certain that Lord Robert knows nothing of Hubert's plan. Apparently my questioning made that huge dolt uneasy, so he decided to have me removed in a way that would not involve him. Hubert is not a coward. He would have attacked me himself if he had not been afraid FitzWalter would hear of it. And can you imagine Lord Robert approving the use of a tool like Hervi?”

Halsig laughed and shook his head, anxiety clearing from his face, but then he frowned. “I'm doubly sorry I killed Hervi then. He would have gladly put the blame on this Hubert de Bosco, and you would have had them both cleaned away.”

“No, it does not matter.” Justin shrugged. “No judge in London or out of it would put the slightest credence in anything Hervi said, even under torture. You know and I know, and the judge would know too, that he would tell a new tale with every turn of the screw.”

Lissa, who was still pale, interrupted with orders that Halsig must be bedded down. She bade the two boys, who had been silently listening and watching everything with eyes round as the king's golden dinner plates, to lie head to foot and give one of their pallets to the man-at-arms. The alacrity with which the pallet closest to the hearth was cleared and a blanket offered displayed the eagerness Witta and Ninias felt for a guest who had just stuck a knife in another man's throat. Ordinarily they would have squabbled about which pallet and which blanket. Despite the eager, if silent, invitation, Halsig protested that he would have to go back to Justin's house.

“I left Hervi there, on the bed. I'm sorry, my lord, but I didn't know how bad I was hurt. I had come over dizzy when I rolled him off me and stood up, and I was bleeding like a stuck pig. I didn't dare carry him down or wait before I came to tell you what happened. And Mary's alone, not knowing what will happen.”

“Don't be a fool, man,” Justin retorted. “Lie down and rest. I have to go home anyway. I'll stop and roust out Dunstan. He can carry Hervi out.” He saw Halsig still hesitating and, recalling his last sentence, turned to Lissa. “The woman is terrified of me,” he said. “Will you come with me and talk to her?”

“Yes, of course,” Lissa agreed. She watched Paul and Justin help Halsig to lie down, then turned and pinched out the large tapers. “Put everything away, Oliva,” she said, and then picked up Justin's clothes from the counter where she had laid them. “Come above with me to dress,” she said. “Oliva is busy here, you can help me.”

Lissa dressed him first, quickly and silently, not in the elaborate gown in which he had arrived but in new garments she took from her chest. Then she turned away from him, took off her robe, and pulled on her shift and undertunic. Waiting, Justin became aware that she had not said a word all the time, which was unlike Lissa, and when she came to him, he said, “I am sorry we have no time for games,” and snatched a kiss as he pulled tight laces and tied ties according to Lissa's directions.

“I am not in the mood for games,” Lissa snapped. “I cannot imagine what you have been grinning about all this time. Hubert is dangerous, and he is not honorable. He will try again to kill you by stealth. Even if Hervi would not be believed, Halsig would be believed. He could point Hubert out as the man who asked for you—”

Justin looked at Lissa blankly. He could not say he was happy because he considered her innocence better established with each mark of Hubert's guilt. Lissa, he was sure, assumed he took her innocence for granted or he would not be sleeping with her. To a great extent that was true. Nonetheless, he was delighted by Hubert's attempt on him because he took the man's fear as a kind of admission that he had killed William Bowles. Had Hubert been in Dunmow on Thursday as he claimed, there could be no reason for him to be afraid or try to stop any investigation with murder.

“The judge would doubtless believe Halsig saw Hubert that afternoon,” Justin said, “but there can be no proof at all that Hubert ever spoke one word to Hervi or did more than watch him as Halsig asked.”

“Will you do nothing to protect yourself?” Lissa cried.

He caught her in his arms and kissed her, his eyes sparkling with unholy mischief. “You silly girl, of course I will. I will go to FitzWalter and protest gently about his man's subverting my servant—”

“No!”

Justin laughed. “Yes, sweet nodcock! Lord Robert will be delighted with me. Will not my confidence in him prove I believe him to be innocent of Hubert's action? And it is quite true, too. I am certain he is innocent of so clumsy an attempt. He may well assume that I also believe him innocent of any involvement in your father's death, which is not true but may make it easier for me to determine just what part he did play. That is for the future. In the present, FitzWalter will scold or punish Hubert, which will stop any future attempts on my life far better than my going about with a guard of ten men and ringing any place I stay with soldiers.”

Color came into Lissa's cheeks, betraying that she had been envisioning just such a guard and possibly locking him in the house too, and Justin laughed at her again and kissed her nose. Then they took up their cloaks and went out, Justin saddling Noir and Lissa's mare and taking them to the stable when they reached his house while Lissa called to Mary to open the door.

The woman was terrified, but Lissa soon discovered that her fear was for Halsig. As soon as Mary heard that Halsig was not badly hurt and would be back in Justin's house the next day, and that Justin was not at all angry about what had happened, she became quite cheerful. She listened intently to Lissa's instructions for getting her husband's blood out of Justin's bedclothes, nodding understanding and occasionally offering a word culled from her own personal experience. Then she shrank into herself, and Lissa thought she had finally realized about whose blood they were speaking, but before she could offer comfort, Justin spoke from behind her.

“Oh, throw the bedclothes out,” he said to Mary. “I will seldom be sleeping here anyway.” And then, in an entirely different voice, to Lissa, “Come, love, Dunstan has arrived and will see you safe home. Go back to bed. I will come as usual tomorrow.”

Justin took her out and mounted her himself, then took a candle from the supply, lit it at the fire, and went up to his bedchamber where he lit several more. The bed was a mess, and he cursed Halsig briefly but more by habit than with anger for not having left the knife in Hervi's throat. That would have cut down the flow of blood.

A short search uncovered the knife half under the bed, and he took it out and examined it carefully, his smile growing broader and broader. The knife had certainly not come from his kitchen nor from Hervi's belt. Justin remembered Hervi's knife, a cheap, gaudy affair. This was a fine weapon, well-worn but with a distinctive winding of wire on the hilt—and he had never seen the weapon before. Very likely one of FitzWalter's men would be able to identify it as Hubert's.

Justin was so happy about Hubert's indirect confession that he was almost reluctant to complain to FitzWalter and get Hubert, whose stupidity had erased his suspicion of Lissa, into trouble. That faint, if foolish, reluctance, plus the fact that he was simply too busy to take the time to ride out to Dunmow, delayed his meeting with FitzWalter for over two weeks. During that time there was no sign of Hubert, although Justin asked the men in the watch nearest Baynard's Castle and a few in other places to look for him.

Had Halsig's wound festered or his own comfort been compromised, Justin might have been more vindictive, but neither was true. Lissa had come, at first every day and then every few days, to check on Halsig, who had moved into Justin's house and insisted on carrying out his duties, using Dunstan as his arms and legs when necessary. He had easily solved the problem of a new groom, taking on one of the older men with a farm background, who was to be dismissed from the watch and was grateful for any kind of work.