Masques of Gold Read Free

scene as she and Peter were on their way to Canterbury, when her father demanded they come to his house, insisted that she strip naked, and ordered his mistress to examine her clothing, even search through her hair.
    Lissa’s lower lip crept between her teeth again, but the grip was gentle, a sign of thought rather than fear. Considering her father’s harelike nature and de Bosco’s boarlike one, was it not far more likely that de Bosco had acted on his own if he had killed Peter? Doubtless he had had hopes of obtaining what Peter had promised her father and withheld. William was far more likely to lay a complaint with the king’s justiciar and sue Peter than try to do him physical harm. Her eyes gleamed briefly and she released her lower lip to purse both in contemplation, but then she sighed and shook her head. No, her first idea was best: She must put both de Bosco and her father out of her mind. She was aware of William’s cowardice, but others might not know how deep it ran, and any hint of de Bosco’s connection to Peter’s murder would lead right back to her father.
    Besides, there was no necessary connection. Now that her shock had passed and she was able to think again, it was clear that if Peter had cheated her father, he had probably cheated others too. And there was the matter of usury as well. Perhaps Peter had lent money at too-high interest and some poor soul trapped by his greed had become desperate enough and bitter enough to want Peter to suffer agony as well as death. Lissa did not know for certain that Peter was a usurer, but nearly all goldsmiths lent money at interest—they called it a “fee” for their services, since usury was a sin. Cynically Lissa wondered if they thought changing the name of what they did could fool God. She hated that part of the goldsmiths’ trade as much as she loved the beauty they created with their skill.
    She had been dreading the day when Peter would demand that she take up her share of the burden of the business. Unable to think of any other reason for Peter to have decided on her as a bride once she realized her husband did not have a grand passion for her, Lissa had assumed it was for her skills as a keeper of accounts in addition to the ordinary womanly accomplishments. She had not feared the work—she had loved every part of her duties as her father’s assistant, although she would have preferred a few compliments instead of constant complaints. Buying and selling she found fascinating, but she could not rid herself of the idea that charging a fee for lending money to someone already unfortunate enough to be unable to pay his expenses was a dishonest way to make a profit. She had not wanted to be responsible for keeping accounts of such transactions.
    Lissa’s wandering mind was recalled to the fact of her husband’s death when, faintly, she heard the groan of an axle and the gritty noise of wheels on stone. She ran to the back of the chamber and loosened the shutter on the window so that she could open it a crack and peer out. Young Peter was on the two-wheel cart that was used mostly to move household goods from the London house to the one in Canterbury. The horse was just passing out of the gate into the alley that ran along the walled garden to a lane connecting Bread Street and Friday Street. Edmond was waiting by the gate, and he shut it as soon as the tail of the cart passed through.
    Lissa was surprised by the sense of relief she felt as Peter and Edmond disappeared before the alderman’s officers arrived. She was a little ashamed of it, but she wanted a chance to tell her side of the story first. Not that there was much to tell, she thought, if she did not wish to implicate her father. She must say—and then Lissa realized that she was in no condition to say anything to anyone. She was still wearing her bed robe; she was unwashed, and her hair was undone. And that realization made her conscious