Free Maid Marian by Elsa Watson Page A

companions seemed to feel no fear, and yet I could not be composed. The noise continued, then another joined, and soon it sounded as though races were being run by some strange creatures within the thatch.
    I lay stiff as a shield, keeping quite still, but in another moment things grew worse. A shrieking sound, as if some animal were attacked or bitten, pealed above me. Another squeal followed, and I let forth an involuntary sound, something like “ah!” Annie rolled her head to face me and whispered softly, “’Tis rats a-fighting in the rooftops, m’lady. Do not fear. They fall through the thatch but rarely, and if one does Da will get him with his boot.”
    I exhaled a shaky breath as I thought through her reassurances. Rats in the roof that might fall through—I believed I would not survive this night. Long I waited and listened hard, hearing them run and sometimes squeal, but after an hour or so had passed and none had in fact fallen through, I was determined to go to sleep. ’Twas the only way, I told myself, to make this wretched night go by, and so I rolled onto my side and shut my eyes, praying that when I opened them next it would be morning.
    But I was not so very lucky. I awoke in the dark, feeling that need that often comes to me in the night, of relieving myself. But what to do? I could not rise without waking Bess and Annie both, and once I did, where should I go? Again I lay in fitful silence, hoping to fall asleep again, but it would not do, I had to go. With a sigh I rolled to face Annie and grasped her shoulder to shake her awake.
    “Hmm . . . ?” she murmured, and I shook again.
    “Annie,” I whispered, as soft as I could, “I need to get up. I need to use the closet.” In Warwick Castle one did, in fact, relieve oneself in a closet of sorts that hung out over a vast trench, and this was the word she and I had long used for that particular place of business. Annie was tired and wanted to sleep, but she had been a nurse too long to not respond with automatic speed to a charge who needed a trip to the closet. She slipped from the bed as slow as she could, and I followed. In the dark she searched about, then found a bucket at the foot of the bed that was used by the family as a chamber pot. Pointing it out carefully so I should not kick it, she said, “You may go there, m’lady. ’Tis our form of a closet.”
    I was mortified. To relieve myself within the hearing of all these people? I could not. “Nay, Annie, please, they shall hear me! Is there no other way?”
    Even in the dark I knew what expression her face was forming, for I’d seen it before. It was a look she had when she felt I was being unreasonable, but I did not care. We went to the door and pushed it open, waking, no doubt, every last sleeping person, and I stepped out into clean, cool air.
    The moon was high and for that I was grateful, for it gave me the light to be unafraid and to find a spot near a buckthorn bush that was to my liking. Soon enough I returned to Annie, and we made our way back to the mattress, careful to avoid the bucket as we went.

    T HIS TIME I SLEPT a sleep of relief, deep and dreamless, beside my companions. Far earlier than is reasonable, we were all startled awake by the sound of a horn crying through the village streets, then a brazen cock had the gall to crow just below the open window. No more was needed—we were all awake and climbing from bed. I slipped outside as quickly as I could, desperate enough for open air to leave the smoky warmth of the house. The light was still dim and the morning misty, but even so I could make out a man, hooded and cloaked, blowing his horn up and down the road.
    “’Tis the hayward,” said Annie, shivering beside me. “He’s wakin’ the folks to call them to the fields. There’s sure to be more haying today. Da and Riccon will go together and perhaps Polly too today.”
    I said nothing, only watched the family disperse to their chores while these three made