“It wasn’t enough,” I roared. “You peasants are always trying to cheat your way out of your fair share.”
Sam looked bewildered. “I don’t ’ave anyfink else in me ’ouse, I promise I don’t. Our money’s all gone, it is.”
“We’ll see about that.” I gestured my men forward. “Search everywhere.”
The soldiers shoved Sam roughly to the side as they pushed past me into the cottage. Cupboards were thrown open. Drawerswere emptied. The straw mattress covering was torn apart. Tildy stood pressed against the wall near Sam, one hand clutched to her chest as she watched my men dismantle their home piece by piece.
Sam looked at me beseechingly but I gave no sign of recognition or pity.
James would have to explain later. Somehow, some way, he would make them understand why I had to let this happen. But right now, it was obvious that Sam and Tildy were desperate to understand. The last time they had seen me, I had been invited to join the Merry Men. They had watched me take my first steps toward a different life. Now, I was ordering their enemies to ransack their home.
One soldier carried out a small chest. Another took a bundle of blankets. Someone else emerged with jars from the pantry and a sack of flour tucked beneath one arm. When the men finished, there was almost nothing left to take.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” I said sardonically.
Then I stepped outside and slammed the door in their faces. I stood there for only a moment, my hand still on the latch, listening to the silence on the other side, then I marched back to the cart, hating myself with every step.
As always, Prince John was pleased with what we brought in. He had us inventory everything three times before he was satisfied, walking between the piles of goods as though admiring a victory won in honorable battle.
“Well done, Sheriff,” he gloated. “Well done. I knew you were up to the job.”
I bowed stiffly. “Your Majesty.”
Prince John gestured for me to relax. “At ease, Baron.”
“I am at ease, Your Majesty.”
He smirked. “More discipline than your father had, I see. Very well. Keep this up, and you’ll be a general soon.”
I inclined my head. “If it pleases you.”
“Come and have a drink. You’ve earned it.”
I looked at the wine, at the satisfied curve of his mouth, and thought of the woman on her knees in the dirt. I thought of Sam’s bewildered face and of Tildy standing against the wall while everything useful in her home was carried away. Laurel would never forgive me.
“I appreciate the offer,” I said, keeping my voice even, “but I have other pressing matters that need to be tended to.”
Prince John flicked his hand at me. “Very well, then. Dismissed.”
I bowed and left as quickly as possible. Only when I was alone in my personal rooms did I let myself stop. I pressed one hand against the stone wall and lowered my head, breathing through the sick weight pressing in on all sides. I had done what the mission required.
I had earned Prince John’s trust.
I would give all my wages to try and repay what had been stolen from the poor. And still, all I could hear was that woman begging for mercy and all I could see was Sam’s face when he realized the monster at his door was me.
The sooner this mission was over, the better.
LAUREL
It was my turn to report to James.
I had given him all my current knowledge, but no matter how much effort I had expended during the week to glean new information, James already seemed to know everything I told him. Worse, he knew it from Baron.
I tried not to let my irritation show, but it sat hot and unpleasant beneath my ribs as James nodded along to my report with the polite patience of someone who had already heard the whole story. I had worked for those scraps. I had scrubbed floors, emptied chamber pots, charmed guards, sorted through rubbish, and smiled at Prince John until my cheeks hurt. Yet every bit of information I uncovered had already been neatly delivered by Baron, who apparently had better access, better results, and probably better handwriting too.
It was infuriating. If Baron was so skilled at spying, why was I even here?
“Little John planned the annual tournament,” James informed me once my report was finished. “It starts next week.”
