“Very well, I’m afraid.” Justin gazed down at the floor as he fought back a thickness in his throat. His father’s death still troubled him even after these many years. “Hilliard has rare use for living Englishmen. Whatever Maxim’s intent, he treads on dangerous ground.”
Fretting openly now, Elise wrung her hands as she wrestled with her imagination. “You mean he could be lying dead somewhere?”
“They found my father stuffed in a wine vat,” Justin informed her morosely. His curiosity still persisted, for he could feel no sympathy for a traitor and a murderer. Why was Maxim interested in Hilliard and what did he have to interest the Hansa master? “Sheffield Thomas will likely find himself in a similar situation if he’s not careful. Who knows what fate awaits Maxim?”
“Speak no more!” Elise cried, springing to her feet. She glared at him through mounting tears. “Do you take delight in frightening me when I know not where my cherished ones are? I cannot bear it!”
“Mercy, Elise,” Justin soothed as he went to her. He would have laid his arm comfortingly around her slender shoulders. “Forgive me. I did not mean to be cruel.”
“What am I to do?” she sobbed, moving away from his intended embrace, as she drew perilously near to that dark, rank cavern of utterly consuming fear. “Nicholas said there was a Hansa meeting this eventide. Surely Hilliard has plans to be there and would be done with Maxim by now.”
Justin dropped his arm and stepped to the fire, stung by her unspoken reproof. This Maxim was a bold enough fellow with the maid, but what were his true colors? Except for Nicholas’s ramblings, he knew nothing of the man and felt a sharp pang of jealousy at Elise’s unflagging faith in him. Another thought pricked his consciousness. Hilliard was often disposed to calling a meeting at the kontor for no apparent reason except his own gratification. He indulged himself in the idea that his power was that of some exalted sovereign and the Hansa masters the subjects over which he reigned. At times he would boast of his schemes, while veiling them in such a way as to portray a feigned innocence. He often sought tacit approval from the local masters on diverse matters, stroking their ego while he cleverly disguised his real intentions. If a stir was later raised for an evil deed done, then he could simply declare that he only acted as a Hansa agent and under their express direction. It could even be his wont this eventide to bring before the Hansa some excuse for hiring the Englishman. All one had to do was discern the dark side of his reason.
A brief bow to the maid accompanied his plea, “Will you excuse me, Elise? I must venture out for a time.”
“But where are you going?” she questioned anxiously. Surely no sane man would venture out on such a cold night unless the matter was of considerable urgency.
Justin paused as he considered what his answer should be. He could not tell her of his need to penetrate the kontor or that somehow he meant to confront Maxim and lay bare the roué’s intentions. Thus he gave her in varied form what she had given him earlier. “There are some things, my dear Elise”—his smile was brief and stiff—“a man should not tell a woman.”
Elise listened to his footsteps in the hall as he made his way to his temporary chamber, and she turned back to stare into the flickering flames as a small frown flitted across her brow. The premonition was strong within her that his leaving was not meant for Maxim’s good. He had made it obvious he distrusted her husband. Perhaps, the thought intruded, he even intended to do him harm.
Elise flew from the room and, catching up her skirts, raced up the stairs in something less than a genteel fashion. She knew what she was about, and she would not be stopped. Whether she was right or wrong about Justin, she had no choice but to follow and find out what he was up to. She had seen a chest of his old clothes in the bedchamber Maxim was using and had every intention of putting a few of the garments to use.
Hurriedly Elise doffed her clothes and hid them in Maxim’s chest. She bound her breasts as flat as she could by wrapping a wide cloth several times around her chest and pulling it tight. She hastily slipped into a loose shirt and dragged a woolen tunic over it. Two layers of heavy stockings and a pair of loose breeches would help obscure the womanly curves of her hips, while banning the cold. Stuffing her loosely coiled hair beneath a leather skull-shaped hat, she drew the ties securely beneath her chin and knotted them tightly. Her worn hide boots served her purpose well and, with woolen rags tucked inside, would keep her feet warm and soften her step.
The sound of a door opening into the next room gave Elise pause, and she listened in frozen stillness as the floor creaked slightly beneath the careful steps of an intruder. It was surely not Maxim, she thought. He had no reason to sneak into his own chambers.
Carefully she crept to the portal separating the two rooms and eased the door ajar, just wide enough to peer through. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw a man, an ancient one with stiff gray strands of hair jutting from beneath his toque. Then he turned and set a candle on the table, and she recognized the familiar profile of Justin outlined against the dim light. A dark ruby stain covered the left side of his face from temple to jaw, and from it, tufts of gray hair seemed to grow. A thin stubble of a beard now seemed to darken his chin and upper hip. The latter he held twisted in a perpetual sneer. When he moved there was a slight stiffness and limp in his left leg. His manner and gait were far removed from those of a sprightly youth, for the disguise had added many years beyond his own.
Justin removed a wooden testament from the armoire and set the small chest on the desk. Slipping a key from his coat, he plied it to the lock and lifted the lid. With a sigh he plucked the knotted ends of a slender cord from the box and lifted the string until a bronze-hued seal twirled free of its confinement. For a moment he stared at the disk, then, tossing it in the air, caught it within his grasp and with a wide flourish swept a woolen mantle over his shoulders and departed the room.
Elise snatched a shorter cloak from Justin’s chest and made haste to follow. She tiptoed to the landing and, from there, saw him flitting down the stairs. Her softly booted feet moved swiftly on the steps, and as she reached the second landing she paused in flight, catching the low murmur of voices drifting down the hallway from Therese’s room. Quickly she pressed back into the shadows as Katarina stepped from the elder’s room and crossed the hall to her own chambers. Elise breathed a sigh of relief and peered over the balustrade in time to see Justin glide noiselessly to the front door. After a quick glance out and about, he was gone before the latch clicked home behind him.
Cautiously Elise made a similar descent and carefully approached the door. Slipping out the portal, she stood in the dark shadows for a moment as she scanned the street. The wind had died, and there was no sign of Justin except for the faint tracings of footprints trailing away from the house in the fresh snow.
Elise had ventured into Alsatia and the Stilliards enough to be wise in passing unnoticed through the streets of a darkened city. She flew along like a night sprite, hot on the trail of her prey, the old hide boots making only the barest whisper of sound in the soft snow. Wary of being seen, she proceeded cautiously, running to corners and peering around them before venturing forth along another street. And still, it seemed Justin remained far ahead of her. The only evidence of his passage were the tracks left in the snow. Then at last she glanced down a street and saw him pause and glance about before ducking into another alley. She rested and counted slowly to five, then sprinted across the street and into the alley.
Thus it went. Fox and hound. Ever onward, always cautious. She knew not how far they had come, but surmised it to be a goodly distance. She had no idea where they were or why he had chosen this particular direction, but for the sake of her own peace of mind, she could not lose sight of him now, or she would be forever lost in the night-bound city.
Her worst fears were realized when she came out of a dark alley and realized the trail in the snow had ended. In sudden panic she glanced around her, wondering where Justin had gone. Anxiously she retra
ced her steps, finding several narrow paths that meandered away from the lane, but none held evidence of recent use. It was as if he had vanished in thin air.
Her heart caught in her throat as she became aware of a trio of shadows entering the alley, blocking her retreat. She stumbled backward, searching for a place to hide, then suddenly a hand reached out, closing over her mouth, and she was hauled backward into total blackness. In a panic she struggled to free herself, but an urgent whisper hissed in her ear.
“Make no sound! There’s danger for us here.”
The voice was Justin’s, and her trembling eased as she relaxed against him. The three approached, and in breathless silence the pair waited, not daring to move, frozen by fear of discovery. The lead figure paused with arms akimbo in the center of the alley and presented a most magnificent and fearsome figure against a distant light. His clothes and those of his cohorts were unfamiliar to her. A long sheared lambskin coat was snugged about his lean waist with a wide leather belt, from which a sheathed sword hung. The collar was pulled high behind his neck, and in front the stiff flaps fell open to reveal the crisp banding of a dark tunic. Lambskin trimmed the lower part of his hat, but the woolen top was folded to one side where it was fastened with a bejeweled clasp. The slightly flared skirt of the coat reached lower than mid-calf and covered what appeared to be voluminous breeches of the same length stuffed into the tops of black boots. His features were hidden in the deep shaded night, but Elise thought she could see the shadow of a long, dark mustache drooping over the corners of his lips and a scar running down his cheek.
The man seemed to listen for a space, then moved on. She heard the soft crunch of his boots against the snow as he passed the spot where the pair of them crouched. Elise eased ever-so-carefully back into the darkness that surrounded them and slowed her breathing. Her lungs ached for want of just one deep gasp of air, but she kept as still as a mouse waiting for the cat to leave.
The man reached the end of the alley, and there paused as the other two joined him. From there, they strolled from the alley onto a wider thoroughfare. In the silence that followed their passing, Justin released a deep sigh of relief, as if thankful to have the trio well beyond them.
“Easterlings from Novgorod,” he informed her in a hushed whisper. “ ‘Tis rumored there’s been a whole order of them here for the last several weeks. I’ve seen only two or three now and then at the kontor. They’re fierce men and keep to themselves mainly. Even Hilliard is afraid to approach them. ‘Tis said these are boyars who were once exiled from Novgorod by Ivan when he laid waste to the city some years ago. Since the czar’s death last year they are openly seeking to reestablish their power in Novgorod. The Baltic ports are anxious to resume trade with them and are leery of offending them.” He inclined his head toward the tallest figure. “If that one is not a prince, I’d be surprised. He looks as if he might have fought his way out of Novgorod.”
“Where are they going now?” Else whispered.
“To the communal hall of the kontor . . . no doubt to watch and listen.” The insinuation was subtle, but whatever these men were about, if Hilliard intended to speak of a certain Englishman, he wanted to be there to hear.
“Is that where you’re going?” she queried.
Justin pulled her to her feet. “ ‘Tis my intent, but I cannot leave you here alone, and I have no time to take you back. What am I to do with you?”
“Can you not take me with you . . . or leave me to follow as before?”
“You’ll never get into the kontor alone, and if I leave you, someone might take you for a spy.” Justin rubbed his hand across his brow as he chafed in indecision, then the thought took hold. What better place for the maid to learn of Maxim’s deeds than from Karr Hilliard himself? “I seem to have no choice but to comply.” He nudged her arm. “Come on.”
The two of them ran to the end of the alley where they crouched again to watch the three Easterlings approach a massive structure faced with a rather stark front and broad steps leading to a large portal. A huge guard stood before its doors, and even from her place of hiding, Elise thought she detected the sentry’s almost fearful respect of the tall Easterling who mounted the stairs first, for the guard hurriedly straightened and motioned the man and his companions inside with only a brief glance at the seal that was displayed.
“The guard is usually much more thorough when he inspects my seal,” Justin sneered sourly. He glanced aside at Elise. “If any should ask, say you are Du Volstad’s apprentice, but keep your hood over your head and your eyes down whenever someone looks at you. You’re not very convincing as a boy.”
Elise lifted her nose in an aloof snub. She could tell him a thing or two about disguises. For instance, the one he had created for himself was immensely effective in distorting his appearance, but to her way of thinking it was rather repulsive and would probably, for that reason, alienate most people.
The last thing Justin wanted was for the sentry to see the maid’s face clearly. It was far too feminine a visage to survive a close inspection. Thus, for the benefit of the guard, he played a part as the seal was presented. The roar of shouts and boisterous merrymaking drifted from the hall, and it was to Elise’s painful chagrin when she tried to peek through the doors that Justin cuffed her, albeit gently. Showering her with verbal abuse in fury-garbled German, he booted her across the posterior, nearly sending her through the entrance headfirst, all to the amusement of the guard who nodded in approval. That one barely glanced at the seal, much less the maid, as he ridiculed the quality of the new generation of apprentices.
Rubbing her backside, Elise glared at Justin’s back as he led the way into the crowded, lantern-lit hall which was full to overflowing with men. The odors of roasting meats, smoke, sweat, and strong ale assailed her as she reluctantly hung her cloak beside Justin’s. Daring nothing more than flitting glances, she kept her shoulders hunched and stayed close behind him as he merged with the crowd. There was much feasting and quaffing of ale at crowded trestle tables, while other men gathered in large, noisy groups or mingled in more sedate and much subdued ranks.
On a higher platform a group of portly men sat at a long trestle table. Though she had never seen Karr Hilliard in her life before, Elise immediately recognized him as the one who resided in the largest chair in the middle. He wore his rank, power, and authority with a casual arrogance. A massive gold chain hung about his neck and supported his badge of office, the full shield of the Hanseatic League. A short distance away a man with a barrel chest seemed to hold himself apart from the activities as he watched over the hall. His stance gave evidence of one who had been given much authority in discouraging all who would intrude upon the council, and specifically upon that one known as Karr Hilliard. The sword at his side, the curved dagger in his belt, and his hand resting upon the latter lent strength to her observations.
A bedlam of clashing cymbals, loud laughter, and the chant of men counting captured Elise’s attention, and she raised on tiptoes to look past broad shoulders, finding beyond them a lad of an age close to her own weaving ponderously between two rows of shouting, stout-armed men brandishing short, multi-tongued lashes. As the youth stumbled past, the masters applied their straps to his back with gusto and hooted with merriment as he forged staggeringly onward toward the end.
Elise ducked away from the sight of his torn and bloodied shirt, sensing that this was some sort of ritual to prove the worthiness of an apprentice. She prayed fervently that she would not be caught in such a trial. To be sure, more than her stamina would be tested.
Wary of being discovered, she made herself as small as possible behind the heavy-shouldered bodies that formed an impassible barrier around her. Nervously she glanced through each breach and opening that appeared in the human wall to assure herself that she was safe. She suffered a moment of panic, realizing she had lost sight of Justin, and though she searched her limited range, she could find no sign of him. In her quest to find her escort, however, she spied Nicholas
absorbed in a solemn conversation with a group of Hansa masters. He seemed pensive, even angry, and she wondered ruefully if his disposition had anything to do with her. A moment later a broad back blocked her view of him, and she stepped carefully around in a small circle as her eyes probed in other directions.
Though the hall was dark and smoke-filled, she found the tall Easterling standing across the hall with his companions. He had doffed his coat but the hat had remained. Beneath it, a dark tunic hung loosely from broad shoulders to a lean, belted waist. Amber stones studded the metal links of the belt, and the sword he had worn outside his coat was now strapped around his hips. The man stood like a prince, straight as a rod with shoulders erect. Elise could not help but stare, though as yet she had been unable to see his face as clearly as she desired, but the long, drooping mustache and almost slanting darkness around his eyes set against swarthy skin gave him an almost Mongolian caste. Yet . . . not quite. She could not lay a finger to it, but even in the darkened hall, she was struck by a feeling of familiarity. It would not have astounded her to have found a likeness of him in one of her own well-aged, girlish fantasies.
Elise suffered some alarm when she felt the increasing pressure of large, sweating bodies closing in all around her. Several more huge forms intruded into her meager space, and she glanced around in sudden apprehension, realizing that she was blocked in on all sides by men who towered well above her. She wondered wildly what had set her upon this foolish course, and she clutched a trembling hand over her heart, wanting desperately to be gone from the place. Indeed, if she ever escaped, she might be tempted to dispense with her masquerades forever and live out the rest of her life as a loving and mild-mannered wife.
A rude elbow caught Elise in the middle of the back, and a grunt of pain was wrenched from her as she was shoved full force into the back of the man in front of her. That one stumbled a step forward, then, turning with a snarl, swung a well-aimed cuff to the side of her head. Elise saw stars and staggered in a momentary half-stupor.
So Worthy My Love Page 39