Dirt immediately poured in, filling my sleeves and collar, but I clawed upward, digging with hands and elbows until my fingers broke through the final layer of soil. Cool air rushed in as I dragged myself free of my grave.
The others must have felt my movements, because soon they too were clawing their way to the surface. I brushed dirt from my face and blinked as Father swung down from his lookout position, the rest of the Merry Men sliding down from the trees behind him like shadows coming to life.
“Good timing!” Father said cheerfully. “They’re all gone. I was just about to come dig you up myself.”
“We’ll need to remember this idea for when we have someone we need to scare,” Will Scarlet laughed. “I rather likethe notion of dressing up in rags and creeping out of graves in the dead of night. It would give anyone the collywobbles!”
“It gave me the creeps just watching it in daylight,” Will Stutely muttered.
“What an actor that Baron is, though!” Dale said. “Did you hear him?”
“Even I almost believed him!” Alan added.
“Yes,” Father agreed dryly, his gaze flicking to me. “He sounded a little too believable. You had better be right about him, Laurel. We’re taking an awful risk, and you’ll be the one in the most danger if he turns on us.”
“He’d never betray me,” I said without hesitation.
“I hope you’re right.” Father pulled me into a tight hug. “Be safe. I love you.”
I hugged him back just as fiercely. “I love you too. Good luck and write soon.”
Father, Alan, and Will Stutely departed at once. Dale bound his arm and left soon after with Will Scarlet. Little John was weak, barely able to stand, so Lincoln and James volunteered to help him back to Sherwood Forest before beginning their work as messengers.
I watched them limp away, my heart tugging at the sight, then turned my attention toward Prince John’s castle.
I couldn’t approach in my Merry Men uniform. I slipped off my cloth belt, turned my tunic inside out so the plain brown peasant cloth showed, then retied the belt. I tore a swath of burlap from one of the grave bags and wrapped it around my hair, then fashioned a rough skirt to conceal my unladylike leggings.
Lincoln was the tailor of our group, and he always made certain we could disguise ourselves when needed. The double-sided uniforms had been a nuisance for him to create, but in moments like this, I was deeply grateful for his foresight. Withinminutes, I looked like a simple farm girl. No need to dirty my face—I was already filthy from head to toe.
By late afternoon,the castle loomed before me.
I approached the drawbridge and hesitated. A bored guard looked me over, taking in my ragged appearance. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re looking for a job?”
I nodded humbly. “Yes, sir.”
“Go in and ask for Agnes. She’ll take care of you. They always need new maids.” He waved me through. “And wash up before you see her. She won’t take kindly to someone arriving like that. The washroom is just over there.” He pointed to a bath house then turned away.
That was it?
I had expected questions and suspicion, an interrogation, at the very least. Prince John must be a greater fool than I’d thought if he allowed anyone through his gates so easily.
I walked in, bustled along by the many servants running to and fro, laden down with linens or chamber pots.
I felt as though I traversed every inch of the castle three times over while searching for Agnes. One servant after another claimed to have seen her, each sending me in a different direction. Even with my excellent memory, I found myself turned around in the twisting corridors. It wasn’t until after nightfall that I finally located her.
“Good evening,” I said politely. “Would you be Agnes?”
She curled her lip at my appearance. Evidently, my hasty washing hadn’t met her standards. “I would. Who’s asking?”
“Isabella, mum.”
Agnes was plump and middle-aged, with iron-gray hair pulled into a tight bun and a no-nonsense air that brooked no argument. “I need help cleaning the barracks,” she said briskly. “One silver coin a week. One day off in ten, plus festival week. Is that agreeable?”
“Yes, mum,” I said, privately aghast. Did people truly live on so little? I took bags filled with gold from nobles constantly; did they really expect peasants to live on a mere silver coin each week?
She briskly led me to a storage room, pulled a bundle of clothes from a shelf, and shoved them at me. “Wear these then give them to the laundress when they’re dirty. She’ll replace them as needed.” She piled on a different bundle. “For sleeping.”
I accepted the shifts and Agnes eyed my boots with unveiled disapproval then added some simple flat shoes to my pile. I fumbled to balance everything and tottered after her as she marched through the hallway. She continued to speak in a brisk, scripted way, as though she gave this same lecture several times a day and had done so for years.
