Masques of Gold Read Free Page A

of the absence of the maid. The old woman resented her for having replaced her original mistress, but she had performed her duties efficiently if grudgingly.
    Could the woman be afraid to come past Peter’s body? Witta had said the sons had left it just lying on the floor. Lissa tightened her muscles against a new spate of shivering. It was wrong. Her husband had not cared for her as she first believed, but he had not been cruel when he had taken her maidenhead, and he had been courteous, if cool, in the six weeks they had been married. It was wrong for her to leave him without dignity in his death, sprawled, all twisted…Her hand flew to her mouth as a memory of Peter’s broken limbs sent a wave of nausea through her, but she gritted her teeth and started down the stairs.
    Peter lay in the shop, on the floor, as Witta had said, but at least he had been decently covered. A shaken sigh eased out of Lissa, and she came down the rest of the stairs. She glanced quickly around the room, but the maid was not anywhere to be seen, and there was no sound from the workroom. Lissa made a wide detour around the body, almost running through the workroom and out the back door. The kitchen shed was as empty as the house, however, and Lissa stopped.
    Where could the woman be, she wondered. She had not gone with Peter and Edmond. Had she run away? In blank bewilderment Lissa’s eyes swept over the winter-blasted garden,pausing suddenly at the door of the hut in which Witta and the maid slept. There was a stick lodged against the door, which opened outward, locking the maid in. Furious and shivering with cold, Lissa ran through the garden and pulled away the stick.
    â€œCome out, Binge,” she called, pulling the door wide, and as the maid came forward, frowning, her lips tight with rage, over her toothless gums, Lissa added, “Something terrible has happened. Master Peter has been killed.”
    The maid’s wrinkled mouth dropped open with shock. “Killed?” she gasped. “No! His leman could not have been so jealous. She was only a common whore. She would have been glad to see him come to her again. She would not dare—”
    â€œThere was no woman,” Lissa cried. “I knew Peter was in trouble when he did not come home last night.” But she could not go on because her teeth were chattering. She gestured for the maid to follow her and ran back to the house. In comparison with the bitter cold of the garden, the workroom was warm, even though the fire that Witta had started from the banked embers had burned down. “Fetch me water for washing and come up and help me dress,” Lissa said when she could speak.
    â€œWhere are young Peter and Edmond?” Binge asked.
    Lissa shook her head. “I do not know. They took the strongboxes away. I suppose their father left very strict orders about what must be done. They—” She swallowed. “They left him lying on the floor of the shop.”
    â€œOn the floor?” the maid repeated.
    Lissa drew in a shaken breath. “I sent Witta to tell the alderman. He will be here or his officers will come soon. I must be dressed—”
    She broke off as it occurred to her that it seemed like a very long time since she sent the boy out, and Alderman Goscelin’s house was no more than a single street away. Had Witta been so frightened that he had run away instead of carrying her message? Then she took another deep breath. It was more likely that she had lost her sense of time and that it had not been as long as she thought. The alderman might not have been dressed. His servants would have made Witta wait. And then Master Goscelin would have had to send for his men. He would not come alone; he would need witnesses. Lissa repeated her order to Binge and fled, averting her head as she passed Peter’s body.
    In the bedchamber at the front of the house she busied herself with building up the fire and laying out a simple