Read Online Masques of Gold by Roberta Gellis - Free Book Online Page B

given him out of his hand immediately. He had never had any chance to open it. Thank God for that. Still, if Flael had sworn under torture that he had delivered the seal to William when William’s daughter became his wife and his hostage—
    William’s eyes stared blindly with terror as he wove in and out of the crowd in the Chepe. At first he was so frightened he could not think at all. He could hardly keep from running, running he knew not where. Finally the desire to run formed into coherent thought. He knew his only hope was to flee before FitzWalter thought of him, and then despair made him whimper aloud. He could not flee because he had no money. He was a rich man, a very rich man, yet he could not lay his hands on more than ten shillings in silver. Much of his wealth was in the charge of three goldsmiths to be lent out at interest. All the rest was tied up in the rare and costly herbs and spices that stocked his shop and in the cargo in the ships of his brothers-by-marriage. In two days he could have money enough to live in comfort anywhere in the world, but in two days he, like Flael, might be dead by torture.
    His thoughts ran round and round, panic insisting that he must escape but that, without money, escape was impossible. He was at the corner of his own street when he stopped dead in his tracks so abruptly that a man behind him ran into him and cursed him soundly.
    What a fool he was! Heloise would have money. There must be gold in plenty in Flael’s coffers. Flael’s sons were gone and could not interfere. And if she tried to deny him…Despite his terror, William almost smiled. If she tried to prevent him from taking anything he wanted, he would beat her senseless. He would break her nose and her jaw, knock out her teeth, make sure no man would ever look at her again. If he fled and hid, he would have no need to fear Gamel and Gerbod, his thrice-accursed brothers-by-marriage.
    William turned to walk back in the direction he had come from, so taken up with his pleasant vision that he did not notice a big man rise from a bench in front of the alehouse on the corner. He started violently when the man seized his arm and spoke his name, and he almost sank to the ground as he whispered, “What did he say?”
    â€œNothing,” Hubert de Bosco growled. “He died before I laid a hand on him.”
    â€œDied?” William breathed, unable to believe his ears. “Of what?”
    â€œFear.” Hubert’s lips twisted in a sneer meant as much for his companion as for the dead man, but William did not notice the expression.
    â€œBy God,” he snapped, his quick mind seeing the fact that he was in no danger, “why did you not leave well enough alone and drop him near the house of that woman he used to visit? Either his death would have been taken as natural or she would have been blamed. Heloise said he had been tortured. Why—”
    â€œ He ordered it,” Hubert said. “He thought it might scare anyone who knew into bringing you news.”
    â€œHe was right about making those who knew fearful,” William remarked dryly. “But unfortunately it did not work the way he hoped. It frightened the sons so much that they ran away. Let us hope it also frightened them enough to make them leave behind what we seek. You had better go and tell him. I will go back to Flael’s house—”
    â€œNo,” Hubert said. “You come with me and tell him yourself.”
    William had noticed that one side of Hubert’s face was bruised and swollen, but until then he had not associated the injury with Flael’s death. Hubert was forever getting into brawls, but his refusal to bring his master more bad news put a new light on the bruises. Internally, William shuddered. He had no desire to bring bad news to Robert FitzWalter either, but he dared not refuse Hubert directly.
    â€œVery well,” he said, “but let us first go back to