Quietly, she tapped on a window until it was opened by a sour-faced Rue, who grimaced as if she were about to give whoever was bothering her a tongue-lashing.
“Megan,” she said in surprise, “come in, come in.” Within seconds, the door was open and Megan threw herself into the nursemaid’s outstretched arms.
“ ’Tis worried I’ve been. Holt, he would not let me visit ye and I feared … oh, Lord, child, don’t worry about what I feared.” Her small hut was warm, a banked fire radiating heat. From the rafters hung bundles of herbs that Rue had collected and had suspended to dry.
“I’ve not much time,” Megan said, her words coming out in short, wild bursts. “I killed Holt and now—”
“Killed him?” Rue crossed herself. “What were ye thinking, child? The punishment for murdering a baron is—”
“—what he deserved. He killed Father and Bevan. He admitted as much to me.” She was suddenly shaking, her teeth chattering as she talked, the cold in her soul deep and mind-numbing.
“There now, lass, worry not about it. What is it ye want from me?”
“I want to know who is loyal to my father, who would rise against Holt’s soldiers; and then I need a disguise, for I’m going to set Wolf and the rest of the prisoners free.”
“Holy Mother,” Rue said, her face wrinkling in concentration and worry. “Think ye it’s wise to—”
“I killed Holt!” Megan said again. “I have no choice.”
Rue nodded and rubbed her hands, with their big knuckles, together nervously. “Many in the castle despise Holt, but would they take up arms against his men? I know not.” Shaking her head, she said, “There is Ellen, Tom’s mother; she would do anything to free her boy, for she’s certain that Holt will make him hang from the very structure her husband built.”
“She has many children—boys,” Megan said. “I need one of their—George’s, as he’s near my size—his tunic and breeches.”
“His clothes?”
“For my disguise, of course.”
“Oh. Of course.” Rue looked more worried than before.
Megan rattled on. “And I’ll need someone to go with me to the dungeon.”
“Yes.”
“And more—I’ll need my own guards posted to warn me of any soldiers approaching.”
Rue bit her lower lip and grabbed both of Megan’s shoulders in her long, bony fingers. “Ye should have been the baron, ye know, if the king would allow a woman to rule. Ye’d be as good a ruler as your father and far better than Bevan would have been.” Tears sprang to her old eyes. “Ewan, proud he’d be of ye.”
“Aye, but we have not time for this now,” Megan said, her throat growing thick with the sorrow she held back. “Hurry!”
“Come. We’ll talk with Ellen,” Rue agreed, reaching for the door. Before she stepped into the bailey, she turned and her face softened. She touched a hand to Megan’s crown. “God be with ye, lass.”
“Halt!” the guard commanded as he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. “Who be ye?”
“ ’Tis only me, Ronald, and me helpmate Stanley,” a boy answered, and Wolf recognized the voice as belonging to one of the peasant children whose job it was to bring down buckets of food and water as well as empty pails in which he and the other prisoners were supposed to relieve themselves. Stanley was younger, with a pockmarked face and a stutter that was so difficult to understand, he rarely tried to speak.
“ ’Tis late ye be,” the guard said with a yawn. There was an edge of suspicion to his voice.
“Aye,” Ronald replied. “Cook fergot to give us these buckets of slop earlier.”
“Could not it have waited ’til morn?” The guard was on his feet to greet the boys. A nervous man, he’d been watching Wolf most of the night, as if he expected some plot to set him free. The sentry was a big man and one who had sworn to Holt that there would be no attempts at escape under his watch. Too many times lately had a prisoner tried to flee. To strengthen his words, he was heavily armed with two daggers and a sword lying unsheathed upon his table.
“Ye’d have thought morning would be soon enough,” Ronald agreed around a yawn as he and his friend set the heavy pails on the guard’s small table. “But ye know Cook. ‘Waste not, want not,’ ’e’s always preachin’. Worse than Father Tim, he is.”
The guard chuckled. “Right ye are about that, boy.” He motioned toward the cells. “Come, we’ll feed the animals, then we both can get some sleep.”
Wolf felt something in the air, a breath of breeze laden with a familiar scent, and his heart jolted as the boy Stanley turned and faced him. Amber eyes held his for an instant and his throat was suddenly tight with fear. Megan! What was she doing here? She’d only get herself killed! Frantic, he shook his head quickly, trying to discourage her. Whatever she had planned, she should not be risking her life or that of their child.
“ ’Ere we go,” the guard said, starting with Jack’s cell. “Come, huntsman, for some of the leftovers.” Keys jangled loudly, rattling Wolf’s nerves. The rusted cell door squeaked open on old hinges. Wolf’s heart thudded as slop was poured into a bucket on the floor. Did the others not know? Were they not ready to ambush the guard?