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.

“You will not leave this room until the wedding, do you understand me?”

“I can’t marry you, my lord,” she said bravely, hoping she wasn’t doing the wrong thing.

“You can and you will. I have a missive from the king and he gives me his permission to marry you. You no longer have any say so in the matter.”

“I cannot marry you because I’m already married. To Jacob.” She held her breath and rested her hand atop the hilt of her dagger. Ricker cried louder, only infuriating the man.

“You lie!” he spat. “You have not married him. You will marry me.”

“I assure you, I am already married and cannot marry you, my lord.”

“Prove it,” he snarled. “If you are married to that traitor, then where is he?”

“He’s . . . not here.”

“Of course he’s not. And as soon as he and his makeshift little army arrives, they will be surprised to meet with the end of the swords of my army instead.”

“What do you mean?” asked Maira, hoping beyond measure that he didn’t know about the attack.

“I am not stupid.” He shouted to be heard over Ricker’s bawling. “I know Jacob is planning to attack when I send my men on the hunt tomorrow. But he and his army will all be surprised when they find out my soldiers are still here. They will die. Every single one of them will die for being so stupid. And you will marry me one way or another, I promise you that.”

“Nay. Don’t hurt them. Most of them are only villagers,” she told him. “They are no threat to you.”

“I know all about it, and I don’t care. You, as well as the boy and your cousin, will be locked in this room and not let out until I have slayed your secret lover. I cannot believe you betrayed me!” His hand shot out and he hit Maira on the face. Immediately, she drew her dagger, but Sir Gregory was pulling Ricker off the bed and holding him with one arm as the boy kicked and squirmed, trying to get away. “Don’t pull your blade on me unless you want to die as well,” snarled the man heading to the door with the crying boy under his arm.

“Where are you taking Ricker?”

“Don’t worry about it. He’s my son. I am going to shut the whelp up and teach him not to cry.”

“Please, don’t hurt him. He’s only a child.”

Sir Gregory stopped and turned around. “Mayhap you should have thought of that before you snuck him away to meet with Jacob. If anything happens to Ricker, it is on your head now.”

“Nay, leave the boy alone,” she said, rushing forward with her blade gripped tightly in her hand. Morag shot up off the bed and grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Nay, Maira. Dinna anger him more,” she said under her breath.

“Guard, lock them in the room and don’t let them out for anything,” Sir Gregory ordered his man. “Stay watch at their door in case they try to escape.”

“Aye, m’lord,” said the guard, closing the door. Maira heard him turning the key in the lock.

“Nay!” shouted Maira, flinging her dagger at the door. The blade stuck in the wood, wavering back and forth.

“Dinna worry,” Morag told her. “We have the tunnel and can still escape.”

“Aye,” said Maira, rushing over and opening the secret door. “Come on, Morag. We can no longer stay here.”

“Where are we goin’?” asked Morag, rushing after her.

“We need to sneak out of here because we have to warn Jacob.”

Maira led the way as they sneaked through the tunnel. Without a candle, they had to walk slowly. Morag was frightened in the dark and Maira had to hold her hand.

“Lady Maira,” came a voice from up ahead.

“Tommy? Is that you?” asked Maira.

“Aye,” said the boy. He came around the corner with a candle in his hand. “I wanted to report that the High Sheriff just went into his solar to meet with the Bishop of Durham. One of the other servants told me he overheard the bishop telling a guard he had something important to tell Sir Gregory that had to do with Lady Catherine.”

“Lady Catherine?” asked Maira curiously. “I wonder what he has to say.”

“You can listen at the peephole and find out,” said the boy.

“Maira, I’m scared,” said Morag. “I dinna want the High Sheriff to find us in the tunnels. If so, he will hit us.”

“Don’t be frightened,” said Maira, putting her hand to her bruised cheek. “But perhaps it is better if I go to spy by myself. Morag, go back to the room and wait for me there. If you stay inside the room, there is no reason for the High Sheriff to get angry with you.”

“I canna make it back to the room by myself. I’ll get lost. Come with me, Maira.”

“Nay. I need to find out what is going on, and I need to get a message to Jacob to warn him.”

“I can sneak out of the castle and go to the woods to warn him,” offered Tommy.

Maira thought of the last time the boy had tried to follow her. He was put in the pillory. Plus, he didn’t even own a pair of shoes so he couldn’t run if he had to.

“Nay, it’s too dangerous. Tommy, take Morag back to the bedchamber. Then go to the kitchen and tell your mother that the High Sheriff knows about Jacob’s plan.”

“He does? That’s not good,” said the boy.

“Also, tell her that Sir Gregory took Ricker but I am going to get him back.”

“Aye, my lady.”

“Maira, where will ye be?” asked Morag. “Dinna forget me here. I’m frightened.”

“Don’t worry, Morag. Just stay in the room and you’ll be safe. I’ve got work to do and will come back to get you later.”

Maira sent Tommy with the candle to guide Morag back to the bedchamber. Things were getting complicated and she felt it was her job to keep everyone safe. But how could she do this and at the same time manage to warn Jacob not to attack? There were so many lives at stake, and only she could stop the massacre from happening.

She remembered the way to the High Sheriff’s solar and stopped in front of the peephole in the wall. Hearing muffled voices from inside, she quietly popped out the cork that let her see into the room. She gasped when she saw Ricker in the room as well as the High Sheriff and the Bishop of Durham. The little boy was silent but there was a raised purple bruise over one eye.

“That bastard! If Jacob doesn’t kill him, I will,” she said to herself, wanting the High Sheriff to get what he deserved. Any man who purposely hurt a child – especially his own son – had to be addled.

“What is it you want?” snapped the High Sheriff, putting Ricker in a cage at the far side of the room and locking him inside. Ricker threw himself down, hiding his face and sobbing into his arms.

Maira couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. Sir Gregory was a horrible man.

“My lord, is it necessary to lock the boy in a cage?” asked the bishop.

“He’s my son and I’ll do what I please. He will stay there until he learns not to cry.” Sir Gregory walked over and poured himself a goblet of wine, chugging it down. He never offered any to the bishop.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” said the bishop, keeping his eye on the boy.

“Spit it out. What do you have to say?” asked the High Sheriff, pouring himself another goblet of wine.

“It’s about the day Lady Catherine passed away.

“Lady Catherine?” Sir Gregory put down the goblet and picked up from the table the jeweled dagger that he’d taken from Maira. He caressed it and stroked it as he spoke. “I want her back,” he said. “What do you have to tell me about her?”

“It’s about her last confession, right before she died.”

“Really?” The High Sheriff’s eyebrows rose. “I thought confessions were supposed to be kept a secret.”

“Usually they are. And I have kept this secret since her death, but I just can’t keep it anymore.” The bishop’s eyes darted over to Ricker again.

“Go ahead.” The High Sheriff gently put the dagger on the table and picked up the goblet and took a drink.

“On her deathbed, she confessed something to me that I feel the need to tell you. It just wouldn’t be right if you never knew.”

“Never knew what? Spit it out. I have things to do.”

“It’s about the boy,” said the bishop.

“Ricker?” asked Sir Gregory, draining the cup and placing it back down. “What about him?”

“It seems Lady Catherine didn’t want you to know.”

“Know what? Tell me before I choke it out of you.”

“Ricker is not your son. He is the son of Sir Jacob Quincey, my lord.”

Maira gasped when she heard this. Sir Gregory looked up at the wall. She stepped back and covered the hole, hoping he hadn’t heard her. She waited a few minutes and when she uncorked the hole in the wall again, the bishop was gone and in his place was the High Sheriff’s right-hand man, Delbert.

“What is it, my lord?” asked Delbert.

Ricker was still in the cage but it looked as if he were sleeping.

“The Bishop of Durham has just brought to my attention that Ricker isn’t my son, but instead the son of Sir Jacob Quincey.”

“Ah, that is unfortunate, my lord.” The guard turned and looked at Ricker in the cage. “Did you want me to do away with the lad?”

Maira bit her tongue and held her hand over her mouth. Had she just heard him correctly?”

“Nay, not the boy. I need an heir if I’m to keep Durham Castle. But I cannot take the chance that anyone knows the truth of whose son he is.”

“You know you can count on me. I’ll never say a word.”

“I know. You are the only one I can trust. Now, what I need you to do is to get rid of the bishop.”

Once again, Maira had to use all her control not to cry out.

“Shall I hang him the way I did the last bishop?”

“Nay. I am thinking a blade to the heart this time.”

“I’ll take care of it right away, my lord.”

“Nay, you won’t. We’ll wait for Jacob to arrive first.”

“I don’t understand, High Sheriff.”

“What better way to make sure I get rid of him forever? He has been a boil on my neck for too long. I want him framed again. When he shows up in his feeble attempt to attack me, kill the bishop – but with this.” He tossed the jeweled dagger to the guard.

“Why this?” asked the guard.

“Because, I am going to make it known that Jacob has stolen my wife’s dagger.”

“I thought Lady Maira had this,” said the guard, inspecting the blade.

“She did. But then she left the castle walls and returned it to Jacob.”

“She did? Then why do you have it?”

“Keep up, you simpleton,” said Sir Gregory, slapping the man on the side of the head. “It’s the story we’re using and I want it spread throughout the castle immediately. As soon as Jacob attacks, bring the bishop and kill him with the dagger and then shout out that Jacob did it.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Once the guard and the High Sheriff left the room, Maira stuck the cork back into the wall and made her way to the kitchen. Slipping inside, she found Cleo and motioned for the woman to join her.

“What is it, my lady?” Cleo kept an eye on the door for the High Sheriff.

“Things are worse than we thought,” explained Maira, revealing what she’d learned to the cook, wondering how she was going to proceed. So many lives were in danger and Maira wasn’t sure she could protect them all. This was a horrible situation and someone was sure to die before it was all over.