It occurred to her that by now someone might have told Hugh about her visit to the prisoner's cell. He clearly had not learned of it before their discussion in the hall, but it was only a matter of time before he did. If he had learned of it, she would know soon enough, and she would have no chance to get near the dungeon.
He had been in a hurry to get to Bewcastle, though, and she doubted that he would have concerned himself with his captive before leaving. She did not think that Geordie would have volunteered the news of her visit, in any event. Someone else would have had to do so, and most of the men liked Geordie and would have been reluctant to subject him to a tongue-lashing or worse. If Hugh had not known before leaving, she had at least a small chance of success, for he would not return until late. She had to make the attempt.
Providing the reiver with his own horse was possible if she could identify it, and the food would present little difficulty, since there was plenty left over from dinner to provide supper for the household and still leave some for him to take with him. The great problem was the guard at the dungeon entrance and anyone else who might still be awake in the stable or the bailey at an hour suited for whatever plan she decided to attempt. The middle of the night would be best insofar as the castle was concerned, for all but the rampart guards would be asleep then; however, Hugh and his men might return by midnight, and anyone moving about after that would look suspicious. She would have to act sooner.
She did not think the guards on the ramparts would try to stop a lone rider leaving by the postern gate before midnight. They would assume that the men below knew him and had approved of his leaving. In any case, she could think of no way to incapacitate the men on the walls, nor could she justify putting the entire castle at risk of attack to save Rabbie Redcloak. Besides, Hugh would kill her if he came home to learn that she had somehow disabled all of his guards.
The cat murmured, annoyed because she had stopped stroking.
"I have things to do, Jemmy Whiskers." She set the cat down and went to open a shutter and look out. The landscape was dark, and there was no moon yet. "It's freezing," she said to the cat. "I shall need my warmest cloak."
Collecting a heavy, dark wool, fur-lined cloak from the wardrobe, she draped it over her shoulders, leaving the hood down while she searched for gloves. Rejecting patens in favor of heavy boots that would give her more freedom of movement, she left the bedchamber, letting the door swing to behind her. Then she had to open it again when the cat loudly protested being left behind.
Crossing to the service stair, she hurried down to the kitchen with Jemmy Whiskers darting ahead of her. The cat ran into the kitchen, but Janet paused just outside to listen. Only female voices sounded within, so she peeped round the doorway to reassure herself that the sole occupants of the chamber were the two maidservants, Sheila and Matty, busy preparing supper for the household. The sight made her realize that her hastily conceived plan required adjustment.
"Matty," she said briskly as she entered, "I am going to walk outside for a few minutes to get some exercise before I eat my supper."
The two maids exchanged a glance that told her they knew that Hugh had ordered her to keep to her room. However, Matty said only, "'Tis like ice out there, mistress. Ye'll catch your death."
"You know better than that," Janet said, smiling. "However, if it is truly so cold out tonight, perhaps the men would enjoy a toddy later to warm them. I will think about that whilst I walk. You go ahead and serve the household when you are ready. You can serve mine upstairs after you have finished eating your own."
"Very well, mistress," Matty said, nodding.
Janet left through the kitchen door, walking briskly, her way lighted by the warm glow of torches set into brackets on the wall. The cold was even sharper than she had expected, for a breeze eddied in the bailey, making the torches waver and flicker. The area was sheltered from the winds that seemed always to blow, albeit not so sheltered as her bedchamber, which faced to the east, and neither was as cold as the open moors would be. She hoped that Hugh had allowed Rabbie Redcloak to retain his signature cloak. If he had not, the man would freeze. Perhaps she should take him one of Hugh's, just in case.
She frequently walked around the bailey for exercise before supper, so the men paid her little heed. They would be gathering in the hall soon for their meal, and that, she knew, was the thought uppermost in their minds. As she walked toward the stable, she saw that many of them were already moving toward the main entrance, leaving behind only those who guarded the walls.
When she saw the stable lads join the others, she walked into the stable, noting that one of the younger men stood guard outside the door leading to the dungeon. She saw him look at her, and raised a hand in greeting.
Inside the stable, the lads had extinguished the torches while they had their supper, but radiance from those outside provided light enough for her purpose. She walked slowly from stall to stall, recognizing many of the animals by location and size. Her own gray gelding pushed its muzzle against her shoulder, and she wished that she had a sugar lump or carrot to give it. She would bring it something special next time to atone for the oversight.
At the end of the row of stalls, she found what she sought. The pony there was larger than the others, and remembering the height of the captive and the breadth of his shoulders, she knew it must belong to him. Hugh would appreciate its size, for he was also a large man. The horse snorted, and she wondered if it were uncut but dismissed the thought even as it formed. A stallion would smell the mare two stalls down even when she was not in heat. The horse stood calmly and so was doubtless a gelding.
Leaving the stable, she bade the dungeon guard a good evening. "Have you just begun your watch, or do you near the end of it?"
"Nearing the end, mistress," Small Neck Tailor said. "Yaro's Wat will take my place when he's eaten his supper. Then I'll get mine. I'll be glad to get it, too, I can tell ye."
"I'm sure you will," she said. "There is plenty of the ham from dinner left over, and I saw Matty slicing cheese, so I am sure you will get plenty."
He smiled, clearly looking forward to the ham and cheese, and she hurried back to the kitchen entrance. She had seen no sign that anyone outside remembered that she was in disgrace with Hugh. Not that the men were any more likely than Sheila or Matty to speak of that disgrace or to order her back to her bedchamber. Still, she would have much more difficulty putting any plan into action if the men believed that Hugh would punish anyone who obeyed a command of her giving.
Back in the kitchen, she found only Sheila, putting food on a tray.
"I'm nearly ready to take your supper up, mistress."
"Good," Janet said. "Bring some of that sliced ham and cheese, too, will you, and maybe a manchet loaf or two. My walk has stirred an appetite, after all."
"Aye, mistress, gladly."
Upstairs, Janet waited until the maid had brought her tray, fetched wood for the fire, and gone away again. Then, hurrying to Hugh's room, certain that his man would linger in the hall, she found a thick woolen cloak in his wardrobe and carried it back to her room. There she drank her milk and ate some of the bread but put the ham, cheese, and the rest of the bread into a drawstring bag for the reiver.
She sat comfortably by the fire with Jemmy Whiskers curled in her lap for an hour or so until Sheila returned to take away the tray. While the maid was in the room, Janet exerted herself to look like a woman about to prepare for bed, and after that, time passed slowly, but it passed. At last, setting down the cat, she got her cloak and Hugh's and, draping the former inside the latter, swung both over her shoulders. Their combined weight was enough to make her grateful that she did not often do such a thing.
Tying the drawstring bag to her girdle beneath the cloaks, she pulled on her gloves and hurried down to the kitchen.
Chapter 5
"I never yet lodged in a hostelrie
But I paid my lawing before I gaed."
MATTY AND SHEILA WERE banking the great kitchen fire, and Janet's entrance startled both of them.
Smiling, she said, "Before you and Sheila retire, Matty, I think we should take toddies out to the guards in the bailey. It is a very cold night, and I do not want them making excuses to slip inside rather than stay at their posts where they belong. Fetch some cider, please, and pour it into the pot on the hob. We'll use the poker to hurry the heating, so set it in the coals now to get hot. Sheila, do you know where Sir Hugh keeps his brandy?"
"Aye, mistress," the girl said, her eyes widening, "but we're no allowed-"
"Never mind, I'll fetch it," Janet said. "The men are due a treat, but you are quite right to remind me that he does not like the servants to touch his spirits. I do not want his wrath to fall upon you for this instead of on me. Fetch out a half-dozen chopins. That should be enough, I'd think."
"Aye, mistress. Are ye sure, then, about the brandy?"
"You just heat the cider," Janet said, hurrying from the kitchen to Hugh's small private chamber near the hall, where she knew he kept his French brandy in a wooden chest. She could hear the men in the hall laughing and talking, and someone playing a lute. They were settling down for the night, and since most of them slept in the hall, they would not disturb her.