Free Liars and Thieves (A Company of Liars short story) by Karen Maitland

stared down at the crowds milling below.
    ‘See there! Three carts trying to barge through the arch at the same time and none of them willing to give way to another. The people may not want to pay, but if this building collapses on top of them, dozens will be crushed in the rubble. Then they’ll be demanding to know why we didn’t do something sooner.’
    ‘So tax the guilds to pay for it, not the poor alewives and labourers,’ Hugh said. ‘The Guild of Merchants alone is wealthy enough to build a dozen new halls, if they were to sell some of the gold and silver they have locked away. They’ve grown as fat as maggots on the carcass of this city, so they  . . .’
    But Robert wasn’t listening. His attention had been caught by a woman standing quite still among the bustle of the crowd, staring up at the window. She was clad in a dark blue gown, over which she wore a sleeveless surcoat of scarlet, embroidered with silver threads. Even at that distance, Robert could tell from the way the cloth hung, accentuating her slender figure, and from the vivid, even quality of the dye that it was of the best. His thumb and fingers twitched as if they itched to feel the weave.
    Ever the merchant, Robert always took more notice of the cloth a woman wore than her face and he probably wouldn’t have taken another glance at her, except that she was gazing up at him intently. He stared back. He couldn’t distinguish her features clearly enough to determine her age, though the gleaming black hair beneath her silver fret suggested youth.
    She seemed to make up her mind about something and, with a nod towards him, she threaded her way through the jostling pedlars to the door that led up to the council chamber and disappeared.
    A merchant who prides himself on his calm and calculated reasoning is not a man to act on impulse but, to his surprise, Robert found himself striding rapidly to the door and out onto the staircase, leaving Hugh staring after him open-mouthed.
    Robert, descending the steep spiral stairs with care, fully expected to encounter the woman on her way up, but he reached the bottom without passing anyone and found only the watchman squatting in the doorway, picking his teeth with the tip of his knife blade. On sensing Robert behind him, he hauled himself upwards against the wall, and made a clumsy half-bow.
    Robert eyed him with disgust. His tunic was open and covered with the stains of ancient meals and his hairy belly was so large that it hung over his breeches. Robert was portly, but a wealthy man was expected to look sleek and well-fed. A watchman, on the other hand, was supposed to be as fit as a battle-hardened soldier, ready to defend his betters against danger. This blubber-arse looked as if he’d collapse if he was obliged even to lift his pike, never mind fight with it.
    ‘Did a woman come to the door a few moments ago?’ Robert demanded.
    ‘A woman, you say?’ The watchman scratched his navel, gazing absently at the passing crowd. ‘Aye, there was a woman. Matter of fact, she were asking for you, Master Robert. But I told her, I says, Master Robert’s an important man. He’s in council, and he’ll not thank you for disturbing him and the other gentlemen.’
    Robert frowned. It was not unheard of for women to buy or sell in the cloth trade, especially if their husbands were absent, but why should she come to the guildhall, rather than his place of business? Robert’s son, Jan, who was also his steward, would still be hard at work in the warehouse at this hour, which was why Robert could afford to waste an afternoon on the city’s affairs.
    ‘Did this woman leave a message, her name? Where am I to find her?’
    He had asked the man three questions at once, which was like throwing three sticks for a dog: it wouldn’t know which to chase first. The watchman pondered for an age, then admitted he couldn’t answer any.
    ‘You should have asked her business,’ Robert snapped.
    The watchman gave Robert