7. Laurel
LAUREL
I’d been worried that I would sleep through the first bell and expected some sort of gentle chiming, the sort that could slip into a dream and be ignored.
But the deafening clangs that rang out in the morning jolted me instantly awake.
I flew two feet straight up into the air and grabbed for my knives, then remembered they weren’t there.
For one terrifying second, I didn’t know where I was.
Then the smell of stale straw and damp stone hit me, and memory snapped into place. I was at Prince John’s castle in the servant quarters. I had a mission to complete.
I forced myself to stand still, breathing hard, as Agnes strode down the narrow sleeping hall. Straw ticks lined the corridor wall to wall, each holding a groaning girl who tried valiantly but uselessly to burrow deeper beneath her blankets.
Agnes stopped when she reached me.
I straightened instantly, spine stiff, eyes forward. She studied me for a brief moment.
“Well,” she said briskly, approval flickering across her face. “Glad to see someone is a morning person.” She continued to march down the hall, ringing the bell with the same ruthless enthusiasm.
I stared after her in bewilderment. Morning person? I had nearly launched myself through the ceiling and had no idea how anyone could sleep through that earsplitting racket.
The girl beside me stirred, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Morning already?” she yawned, stretching her arms high before emitting a shrill, drawn-out yawn.
Agnes reappeared at the far end of the hall, this time with a long wooden spoon in hand.
Any girl still in bed earned a sharp crack of her spoon against their exposed flesh.
The sound echoed down the corridor, followed by startled yelps and frantic scrambling.
When the girl next to me heard the approaching whistle of wood through the air, she rolled out of bed and hurriedly smoothed her blankets.
Then she noticed me still standing beside my bed, frozen.
“Make your bed, quick!” she hissed.
I straightened the lone blanket and plumped the chaff-filled sack that served as my pillow. Agnes passed me without comment, instead rapping the spoon smartly against the foot of a girl two beds down.
The girl beside me nudged my elbow again. “You’re supposed to get dressed before she comes back.”
I followed her gaze. All around us, girls were pulling off their nightgowns and wriggling into their servant uniforms with practiced speed.
I hastened to copy them. The dress I’d been given was bulky, as itchy as poison ivy, and stiff in all the wrong places. I’d never loved dresses, but this one sealed the matter forever. If I survived this mission, I vowed never to wear one again.
I tied the long white apron behind my back and smoothed the wrinkles from the fabric. The flat black shoes were slightly too large, so I stuffed my feet into two extra pairs of woolen stockings to keep them from slipping.
The girl beside me jabbed her finger against my arm. “Your hair! Cover your hair before she comes back!”
I glanced around again. Every girl was knotting linen scarves around their heads. Some of the older women bundled their hair into braids with swift, efficient movements, tucking away every loose strand out of sight.
So many layers. At least I would be indistinguishable from anyone else. That was helpful.
I grabbed the white strip of linen from my pile and mimicked their movements but fumbled with the strings with clumsy, untrained hands.
The girl next to me hurried around my bed and fixed it for me, deftly folding and tucking the linen around my hair and whipping the strings together before hurrying back to her spot for inspection.
When Agnes reached us, she passed by without a word.
“Thanks,” I whispered to the girl who had helped me.
She smiled brightly, her mouth wide enough that it seemed perpetually on the brink of laughter. “That’s alright; I wish someone had told me what to do my first few days. I’m Aalis, by the way.”
“Isabella,” I lied easily.
Aalis pulled me toward the long table where our breakfast waited.
She chattered cheerfully as we ladled thin, soupy porridge into chipped bowls.
At first, I was slightly worried that I wouldn’t have the conversational skills to make friends easily, but Aalis made up for where I was weak.
She didn’t seem at all to care that I listened more than talked and barely breathed with how quickly she talked.
“So when Mum told me that I needed to find work, who should be hiring but Prince John’s housekeeper. And who wouldn’t want to work for royalty? You know what I mean, don’t you Izzy? You don’t mind if I call you Izzy, right?”
I shook my head and she went rambling on.
“Anyway, I was hired about a year ago and have been working here ever since. I really do like it, you know. The festivals are fun and I never would have been able to attend them otherwise. You’ll love it; there are so many gowns they let us wear that day and we look just like ladies of the court.”
She talked.
And talked.
And talked.
I continued to listen, nodding in what I hoped were the right places, committing details to memory even as my mind catalogued something more important: Aalis was the exact type of friendly, open person who noticed things and repeated them.
Perfect.
“…and a whole silver coin a week!” she finished breathlessly. “I’ve never felt so rich in my whole entire life!”
I smiled and murmured agreement while my stomach twisted. One silver coin. I’d stolen more than that without blinking.
It didn’t matter that I didn’t have many female friendships to draw experience from. Aalis had already decided I was her friend, introduced me to everyone who passed, and showed me exactly where to stand for instructions so Agnes wouldn’t bark at me.
Acceptance came faster than I’d dared to hope for.
“Isabella!” Agnes called, reading off a long scroll. “Barracks duty. Follow me.”
Several girls groaned in sympathy and Aalis squeezed my arm. “Good luck,” she whispered. “I’ll see you later.”
I fell in after Agnes’s footsteps. She spoke in the same brisk manner she had the night before.
Even though I knew she had been up just as late as I was, she didn’t seem the least bit tired.
I kept up with her quick pace as she led me out of the castle and across the training fields to long rows of dingy buildings.
The stench inside the barracks was overwhelming. It seemed like sweat, smoke, old straw, and the scent of unwashed men had all combined to create a permanent grime that baked into the stone itself. No wonder Agnes was always looking for maids.
Focus, Laurel, I told myself. Remember why you’re here. Information only came to the patient.
Agnes gestured sharply. “Start here. I’ll check back around mid-day. Supplies are there. Any questions?”
“Yes, mum,” I said quickly. “When I finish here, what do I do next?”
“You won’t finish today,” she replied with the hint of a smile, and left.
She wasn’t wrong.
The work was brutal. Straw had to be hauled out, chamber pots needed emptied, and the floors had to be scrubbed inch by inch.
My arms burned, my back screamed, and the filth seemed endless.
Once this room was done, there were a hundred more just like it, and I was certain that by the time they were all finished, the first would need to be cleaned again.
Prince John might want an army of soldiers but he needed an army of maids.
By the time I was halfway done with the floor, my back ached horribly.
I stood and began to wipe the windows and walls…
then had a horrible realization. The soapy water that I scrubbed the wall with mingled with the dark dirt and trickled down to the already-scrubbed floor.
A layer of residue was left behind as the water trickled to the low points in the floor.
It would have to be washed again. I groaned in frustration. Cleaning was the worst.
But nevertheless, I worked. If I wanted access to the whispers and secrets and careless talk of the people within the walls of this castle, I had to belong here and had to become invisible. Maids were invisible.
It took most of the morning to wash a single wall and I felt somewhat vindicated as I looked at the proof of my hard work. I was halfway done with a second wall when Agnes showed up again at mid-day. When she did, I was drenched in sweat and grime and my muscles trembling.
“You’re a good worker,” she said at last. “Were you raised on a farm?”
“Yes, mum,” I answered, inwardly thanking my father for drilling me so often with the bow. My back and shoulder muscles were hardened and tough from all the intense exercise. If ever Father wanted to build up the Merry Men’s stamina, I would have to recommend Agnes as a trainer.
“Noon meal is in the kitchens, then come right back.”
I did so, but Agnes didn’t return again.
I had no idea how long I was supposed to work, so I continued until night fell.
A steady stream of soldiers passed by throughout the afternoon.
Most ignored me, and I them. A few made crass comments, which I also ignored.
The torches were lit by the time I was finished with the room, and I had just thrown down the last armload of fresh straw when soft tapping at the door made me turn.
“Miss?” It was Walter, the manservant who had shown me to my sleeping quarters the night before.
I wiped my brow with my sleeve. “Yes?”
Walter entered the room and looked around in amazement. “You did all this today?”
“That is my job, isn’t it?”
“You’d better watch out—Agnes is going to expect this same level of work every time.
” He studied the room with a meticulous, well-practiced eye.
He wasn’t old by any stretch—probably younger than my father, but older than Baron.
He had a large, bushy mustache that made me imagine that a very fuzzy, fat, brown caterpillar had crawled across his face and settled there.
“No good, it will need to be done again,” Walter said flatly.
My mouth fell open in horror, but then I saw his mustache twitch ever so slightly. “You’re awful,” I told him. “I almost believed you for a minute.”
“A maid who appreciates jokes?” Walter beamed. “How refreshing!”
I liked him immediately. His eyes had a permanent twinkle in them, as if life was one grand joke, and he couldn’t wait to see how everything played out. “And a manservant who isn’t condescending, I’m impressed.” I told him.
He waved one of his gloved hands. “I’m the one who’s impressed. Agnes may not believe that you did this alone. I can help you take credit.”
I poked him in the chest. “Over my dead body. You didn’t scrub those filthy walls; I did, and I’m taking all the credit!”
He grinned mischievously. “Alright, alright, you win, but just this once.” Walter held open the door for me, and I followed him back to the main hall.
Every inch of my body ached, and just like Aalis, Walter proved to be an easy-going companion who didn’t care if I was talkative or not.
He filled the silence with chatter about his past. He said he’d been raised in London, then joined Prince John’s army for ten years, and became a manservant at Nottingham Castle when he was done with military life.
He reminded me strongly of Will Scarlet—quick-witted, fatherly, and easy to talk to. He took me back to the servants’ quarters, where all the other girls had already come back and were talking and laughing together. Aalis waved me over.
“Looks like you’re fitting right in,” Walter said with a grin. “Glad to have you here, Isabella.”
I smiled. Everything was going exactly as planned.