Masques of Gold (59 page)

“Snakes,” Lord Robert said. “All women are sly as snakes.” He was not looking at Lissa but at Justin. “She fooled me completely. I would have pledged my life that she did not know where that thing was.”

“I did not know,” Lissa said, coming to Justin's side. “
You
told me where to look. The seal was indeed my bride price, and I have given it away to buy peace instead of melting it and using the gold. Now you know where it is and you need ask me no more questions.”

FitzWalter's eyes flicked to her and back to Justin as if she no longer existed. “You have kept your word, Sir Justin,” he said, suddenly thrusting out his hand, which Justin took with a rather bemused expression. “I cannot say that I am pleased to have lost such a prize, but I will have what I want anyway, and no shadow of blame can ever attach to me over this matter now. We are quits.”

“I am glad, my lord,” Justin said. “We are like to be near neighbors for no little time, and I prefer your liking to your hatred.”

“You have that and my trust as well,” FitzWalter said. “So much so that I will ask you, as a favor to me, to accept when the mayor offers you the command of the watch again.” He tightened his grip on Justin's wrist, then released it and walked away.

Lissa stared after him, not knowing whether to burst with rage or sigh with relief. When she turned her eyes to her husband instead, she saw the blank, icy stare that betokened a dangerous suspicion. She bit her lips to hold back sobs.

“What does he mean?” she asked. “Why are you so wary? Is it some kind of trap?”

“Not for me,” Justin said, putting his arm around her. “Lord Robert was sure that we were bringing a complaint against him when you went before King John. I had to push him away by force from thrusting himself between you and the king. Had he interrupted you, his knowledge of the seal would have been betrayed to the king. Because you did not complain of his abduction and he now sees my action as saving him—you will have noticed that no pardons were given today—he thinks I wish to be his friend.”

“And me?” Lissa asked.

Justin laughed. “You are not worth consideration, my love, but he will leave you in peace, I am sure.” He shrugged. “I do not know what explanation he has given himself for my coming to Baynard's Castle to release you—my pride and honor in possession, I suppose. I am sorry for him; he knows nothing of love.”

“Then what troubles you?” Lissa asked, still anxious.

“Nothing to do with us, dear heart. Come, let me put you on your horse. My poor dearling, you are so tired and we have so far to go. Shall I hold you before me, beloved?”

“Not for twenty miles, Justin,” she said, finding a smile for him.

When they were mounted and on the road, she said, “You never answered me, Justin. I know when you are worried, and I would rather have one thing to fear than be afraid of everything.”

He sighed. “I do not think there is much for us to fear. I am not so much worried as, despite my own better knowledge, disappointed. You remember I told you neither the king nor the real rebels would be content with the charter. Fool that I am, I hoped I could be wrong—but I was not. You heard FitzWalter say he would have his way anyway, and he sounded so sure. That means the plans for war are already made. The proof of it is that he
knows
the army left in London will not be large enough to hold the walls and to serve as watch also.”

Lissa was far too weary to care about a war sometime in the future, a war that Justin did not seem to think would strike at London. She said no more, saving her strength for staying on her mare at the brisk pace Justin set. The rapid gait had the double advantage of occupying her mind and getting them to the city before full dark. Reaction set in fully the moment she was able to sink into her chair, and though she tried to eat the meal Oliva carried up, she was too tired and fell asleep in the chair, Justin told her later, with a cup of wine in her hand. Fortunately, he had been able to grab it before much spilled and stained the rug.

She woke very suddenly when Justin kissed her forehead and said, “Dearling, let me help you undress. You will be uncomfortable if you sleep all night in your gown.”

But when she was naked and cuddled against her husband's strong body, she could not sleep again and a new aspect of FitzWalter's offer troubled her. “If the barons still rule London, will it be safe for you to hold the office the mayor offers?”

Justin squeezed her gently and drew a deep, satisfied breath. Lissa realized he had been thinking long and hard about his brief talk with FitzWalter. “Yes,” he said. “I take office from the mayor, not from the barons. No greater crime may be held against me than against the mayor for accepting his office. If the war goes ill for the barons, they might at any time call away their troops, leaving London naked if someone does not see to the defense. Yes, I will take my office back, and gladly, if it is offered.”

Lissa heard the deep pleasure in his voice. She would have much preferred if he could have been content to expand his work as a merchant, but she loved him enough to smile and be glad for his sake. And because he was happy it seemed a good time to answer a question he had never asked but that she knew must be troubling him, for they had been lovers a long time with seeming no result.

“Well,” she said, “I must admit that I am especially eager to be sure the city will be quiet and safe in the future.”

“Because of FitzWalter?” He pulled her even closer. “You need not fear him, beloved, I swear it.”

“Not FitzWalter especially,” Lissa said, smiling. “I am only more cautious in general just now. And I wish to warn you that you now have two to care for.”

“What two?” Justin asked, looking around the bedchamber as if he expected a new dependent to pop out of the wall.

Lissa laughed aloud. “I am with child, you silly man,” she said, and took him by the ears to pull his head around to kiss.

I feel it necessary to note two historical discrepancies in this work; one was deliberate and the other was very minor and could not be resolved without more extensive research than it was worth. The minor problem was the name of the mayor of London from 1213 to 1215. One source gives this as Roger FitzAdam, another gives the name as Roger FitzAlan. To minimize the danger of confusion with the surname of several characters, FitzAilwin, I chose to use FitzAdam.

The deliberate discrepancy is my use of the word “alderman” for the important officials who helped the mayor govern London. At the beginning of the thirteenth century, at the time this book is set, the authority of the aldermen had been superseded by a group of twenty-four “substantial” citizens called echevins. The word “alderman” is Anglo-Saxon; “echevin” is French. There had been considerable unrest and many claims of corruption in the government of the city at the end of the twelfth and the beginning of the thirteenth century, and it is possible the word “echevin” replaced the word “alderman” when mayors began to be elected annually to remove the taint of that corruption from those who advised the mayor.

Certainly the echevins were advisers to the mayor; however, whether they held all the same responsibilities as the aldermen I have been unable to determine exactly. For the purpose of a work of fiction the distinction—if there was one—did not seem important to me, particularly since the term “alderman” was back in use before the end of the century. It is even possible that the word “alderman” had never fallen out of use with those important citizens whose native tongue was English, even though “echevin” was used in official records. In any case, I decided to use the more common word “alderman” in this book.

I wish I could have done a more thorough job in describing the Hanseatic League, which was an association of North German trading towns, but a novel is not the place for a study of this fascinating organization. Naturally the trading ventures of the Hanse spread all over Europe and the Middle East, but I have ignored that aspect entirely, except for a bare mention of the voyages of my heroine's uncles.

With respect to the relations of the Hanse to England, Germanic merchants known as easterlings had traded with English counterparts during the Saxon period. A formal guild, the House or Gild of the Merchants of Almaines (also called the House of Teutonics), was formed in 1169. The guild flourished and was given many special privileges by the Crown, including the right of total independence within the physical area of its central headquarters. This area did not actually come to be known as the Steelyard until the first quarter of the fourteenth century, but I have used the name for the sake of convenience.

English merchants always resented the privileges granted the Hanse. As English merchants grew richer and more powerful, they were able to hold their own in trade. Violent confrontations occurred and strong protests were lodged with the government until the Hanse was forced to withdraw from England during the reign of Elizabeth I. For those interested, there are many excellent books on the organization.

The development of the guilds (or gilds) is another fascinating topic that could not be dealt with adequately. These organizations, which began before the Conquest as social and religious groups for the support and protection of members—for example, a guild would provide burial for a brother or sister and prayers for the soul of the deceased (a rather primitive insurance society)—had, by the thirteenth century, become the nucleus of town government.

Perhaps because of the initial purpose and because that purpose remained of primary importance for centuries—a guild looked after any member who had fallen upon hard times, it provided care for sick members, buried the dead, and supported widows and orphans—guild membership was
not
denied to women. Nor were the earliest guilds craft-connected or divided into hierarchies. Any honest tradesperson who could pay the initiation fee and perform the duties (which were nearly all religious or pecuniary in nature) was readily accepted as a member.

As society became more complex, so did the guilds, which separated into distinct craft-associated groups—the weavers, fish-mongers, and bakers were among the earliest in London. The king's (or his bureaucracy's) notice was drawn to the associations. For a fee, the guilds were issued a royal charter guaranteeing them certain rights and privileges, like holding a court to settle differences between members or complaints against a member. Later it was found more profitable to fine unchartered guilds for existing without a charter. But when London won its own charter and the right to elect its mayor annually and govern itself through its own commune, the guilds were chartered by the city and were part of the mechanism of governing it.

Concurrently with the increase in public responsibility there was an increase in prejudice against female guild masters, which culminated by the middle of the fourteenth century in rules that deprived females of the right to guild membership (except in the very few guilds that were all female). The medieval reasons were as specious as those that restrict women “for their own good” today. I cannot understand why it is good and patriotic for a man to shoot and be shot in defense of his country but evil for a woman (modern weapons no longer being too large or heavy for most women to use). No reason I have ever heard makes any better sense than the medieval notion that a woman could not perform the religious duties of a guild because she was basically evil by nature. However, in medieval times, as now, women were their own worst enemies; they found it easier to hire male substitutes than to fight the guild prejudice against them until that prejudice became hallowed by time and custom into written rules.

Henry FitzAilwin was the historical mayor of London from 1191 until his death in 1212, and three sons, named Alan, Richard, and Thomas, survived him. Sir Justin FitzAilwin, however, is fictional as is the “official” position he holds. My description of the watch was as close as I could come to reality from the sketchy references I found to its duties in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries.

Henry B. Wheatley in
The
Story
of
London
(in the Medieval Cities series) says: “The watch and ward arranged for the protection of the city was efficient enough in quiet times, but when the inhabitants were troublesome it was quite insufficient. The regulations were strict, but the streets were crowded, as more than half of them were used as marketplaces, and every moment occasions for quarrelling arose, of which the young bloods were only too ready to avail themselves.

“…Nightwalkers (male and female) were very summarily treated, but they must have been mostly connected with the dangerous classes, for we read of notorious persons with swords and bucklers and frequenters of taverns after curfew, ‘contrary to peace and statutes.' We may presume that quiet, inoffensive persons who were known to be law-abiding citizens were not necessarily hauled up for being in the streets after regulation hours.”

Finally, for those who wish to ask questions (which I will try, but not promise, to answer), comment (which interests me whether or not I agree), criticize (for which I am grateful, even when I regret the error), or offer compliments (which I enjoy enormously, being all too human). You may reach me though my website (
www.RobertaGellis.com
) or more directly from my email address [email protected].

Roberta Gellis is the bestselling author of over twenty-five historical romance novels with over one million copies sold.
New York Times
bestseller John Jakes has called her a superb storyteller of extraordinary talent;
Publishers Weekly
has termed her a master of the medieval historical. Her many awards include the Silver and Gold Medal Porgy for historical novels from
West Coast Review of Books
and the Golden Certificate and Golden Pen from
Affaire de Coeur
, several
RT Book Reviews
book awards and also the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Romance Writers of America. She lives in Lafayette, Indiana.