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I pulled the small roll of tools from my boot. Four picks and two bent wires. They'd saved my life more times than I cared to count.
Most castle locks were easy enough for me to open, especially after years of practice. This one was another matter.
My fingers were cold, the light was poor. And I could hear soldiers moving closer.
Twice, I nearly had the mechanism working.
Twice, I lost my hold and had to start again.
"Robin."
"I know."
"They're in the undercroft."
"I know, Guy."
I tried again. This time, something moved. Unfortunately, it wasn't the lock.
It was the ring bolt.
I examined the fastening more closely and realized whoever installed it had drilled into the old mortar instead of the stone.
The fool had used the wrong part of the wall.
I twisted the chain around my hand, braced one boot against the grate, and pulled.
The bolt came loose.
"Got it!"
Guy grabbed the bars with both hands. Together, we hauled the grate open. The hinges protested loudly, and a rush of cold air came up the tunnel.
Then I looked at the river.
Oh, bloody hell.
The Leen was much deeper than I'd expected. I lowered myself through the opening feet first and dropped straight into water that reached my chest.
The cold took my breath away. For several seconds, all I could do was stand there, trying to breathe properly. My teeth had wanted to start chattering.
Guy followed and his landing was considerably worse.
He stumbled against the riverbed and dropped to one knee, nearly going under before I managed to get my shoulder beneath his arm.
"Easy. I've got you."
He pushed himself upright, shivering hard.
"Four hundred yards," I told him. "Then we'll be clear of the castle lights. Come on."
By then, every alarm bell in Nottingham seemed to be ringing.
Torches moved along the curtain wall above us, and I could hear soldiers shouting orders as they searched the grounds.
We made our way downstream, keeping beneath the overgrown bank where the roots hung low enough to conceal us.
The water reached our ribs in places.
