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Chapter 18
Maira opened the secret door in her bedchamber to allow Cleo, Alf and Tommy to enter. “Hurry,” she told them, peeking down the passageway and then closing the door behind them.
“What is this all about?” asked Cleo. “Tommy said you wanted to see me. Is something wrong?”
“I’m married,” she blurted out, watching the expression on Cleo’s face.
“So . . . you already married the High Sheriff?” Cleo sounded very confused. “But he just returned. When did it happen?”
“She married the thief named Jacob,” announced Morag.
“Morag!” Maira scolded her for telling.
“Oops.” Morag covered her mouth with her hand. “Well, ye were about to tell her anyway, werena ye?”
“Aye, I was,” Maira said with a sigh. “Cleo, Sir Jacob is planning an attack on Durham Castle when the High Sheriff sends his men out on the hunt. I am going to help him take back what Sir Gregory has stolen from him.”
“My lady,” said Cleo in surprise. “How is Sir Jacob going to fight everyone by himself?”
“He has trained some of the villagers and raised a small army. They are going to fight with him.”
“Nay, they’ll be slaughtered,” protested Cleo, looking horrified by the thought. “You have to stop him.”
“I tried, but his decision is made. As his wife, the only thing to do is to support him. Therefore, I am going to help him from inside the castle walls.”
“I don’t like this,” said Cleo, shaking her head.
“Neither do I,” admitted Maira. “But I decided I would do anything to help Jacob. He has had everything stolen from him and he was framed for the murder of the bishop when it wasn’t his fault.”
“The servants all like Sir Jacob, and we believe he is innocent,” said Cleo. “I will talk to the rest of them and we will help in any way we possibly can.”
“Can I fight with a sword?” asked Tommy excitedly.
“Nay!” snapped his mother, pulling him closer.
Maira looked down to Tommy’s bare feet feeling bad that she still hadn’t found him a pair of shoes. “Tommy, you and Alf will be our lookouts,” she told him.
“I can do that,” said Alf eagerly. “What do we have to do?”
“Keep a close eye on the High Sheriff and report back to me if he is doing anything suspicious.”
“Someone’s coming,” announced Branton, peeking out the chamber door.
“Fast, everyone back into the tunnel.” Maira hustled the servants and Branton into the tunnel and quickly closed the secret door. She had just finished when the High Sheriff entered the room, standing there with his hands on his hips.
“Where the hell have you been?” the man growled.
“I was taking care of Ricker,” said Maira, nodding to the boy playing with his wooden animal on the bed. Morag sat next to him.
“What’s that?” snapped the man, stomping into the room and walking over to the bed. He snatched up the wooden animal and inspected it. “Where did this come from?”
Maira’s heart stood still. Ricker reached out for the animal and, to her horror, he said something she didn’t want to hear.
“Jacob,” said the boy, reaching for the wooden animal. “Doggie.”
“Jacob?” Sir Gregory spun around and threw the wooden animal to the floor. It broke into several pieces. Ricker started crying. Morag pulled him onto her lap to calm him. “You were with the thief, just like I thought.”
“He’s not a thief,” she said, knowing it was no use in denying the fact at this point.
