And talked.
I continued to listen, nodding in what I hoped were the right places, committing details to memory even as my mind catalogued something more important: Aalis was the exact type of friendly, open person who noticed things and repeated them.
Perfect.
“…and a whole silver coin a week!” she finished breathlessly. “I’ve never felt so rich in my whole entire life!”
I smiled and murmured agreement while my stomach twisted. One silver coin. I’d stolen more than that without blinking.
It didn’t matter that I didn’t have many female friendships to draw experience from. Aalis had already decided I was her friend, introduced me to everyone who passed, and showed me exactly where to stand for instructions so Agnes wouldn’t bark at me.
Acceptance came faster than I’d dared to hope for.
“Isabella!” Agnes called, reading off a long scroll. “Barracks duty. Follow me.”
Several girls groaned in sympathy and Aalis squeezed my arm. “Good luck,” she whispered. “I’ll see you later.”
I fell in after Agnes’s footsteps. She spoke in the same brisk manner she had the night before. Even though I knew she hadbeen up just as late as I was, she didn’t seem the least bit tired. I kept up with her quick pace as she led me out of the castle and across the training fields to long rows of dingy buildings.
The stench inside the barracks was overwhelming. It seemed like sweat, smoke, old straw, and the scent of unwashed men had all combined to create a permanent grime that baked into the stone itself. No wonder Agnes was always looking for maids.
Focus, Laurel, I told myself.Remember why you’re here. Information only came to the patient.
Agnes gestured sharply. “Start here. I’ll check back around mid-day. Supplies are there. Any questions?”
“Yes, mum,” I said quickly. “When I finish here, what do I do next?”
“You won’t finish today,” she replied with the hint of a smile, and left.
She wasn’t wrong.
The work was brutal. Straw had to be hauled out, chamber pots needed emptied, and the floors had to be scrubbed inch by inch. My arms burned, my back screamed, and the filth seemed endless. Once this room was done, there were a hundred more just like it, and I was certain that by the time they were all finished, the first would need to be cleaned again.
Prince John might want an army of soldiers but he needed an army of maids.
By the time I was halfway done with the floor, my back ached horribly. I stood and began to wipe the windows and walls…then had a horrible realization. The soapy water that I scrubbed the wall with mingled with the dark dirt and trickled down to the already-scrubbed floor. A layer of residue was left behind as the water trickled to the low points in the floor. It would have to be washed again. I groaned in frustration. Cleaning was the worst.
But nevertheless, I worked. If I wanted access to the whispers and secrets and careless talk of the people within the walls of thiscastle, I had to belong here and had to become invisible. Maids were invisible.
It took most of the morning to wash a single wall and I felt somewhat vindicated as I looked at the proof of my hard work. I was halfway done with a second wall when Agnes showed up again at mid-day. When she did, I was drenched in sweat and grime and my muscles trembling.
“You’re a good worker,” she said at last. “Were you raised on a farm?”
“Yes, mum,” I answered, inwardly thanking my father for drilling me so often with the bow. My back and shoulder muscles were hardened and tough from all the intense exercise. If ever Father wanted to build up the Merry Men’s stamina, I would have to recommend Agnes as a trainer.
“Noon meal is in the kitchens, then come right back.”
I did so, but Agnes didn’t return again. I had no idea how long I was supposed to work, so I continued until night fell. A steady stream of soldiers passed by throughout the afternoon. Most ignored me, and I them. A few made crass comments, which I also ignored. The torches were lit by the time I was finished with the room, and I had just thrown down the last armload of fresh straw when soft tapping at the door made me turn.
“Miss?” It was Walter, the manservant who had shown me to my sleeping quarters the night before.
I wiped my brow with my sleeve. “Yes?”
Walter entered the room and looked around in amazement. “You did all this today?”
“That is my job, isn’t it?”
“You’d better watch out—Agnes is going to expect this same level of work every time.” He studied the room with a meticulous, well-practiced eye. He wasn’t old by any stretch—probably younger than my father, but older than Baron. He hada large, bushy mustache that made me imagine that a very fuzzy, fat, brown caterpillar had crawled across his face and settled there.
