It was Anne. Out there in the dark with a man. He didn’t look like a knight. More like a monk. In robes. But with a sword.

Emilie thought she had stumbled across something she should not have seen. Anne was angry. She’d never heard her mistress’s tone this hard.

“You know what my husband wants,” she said. “Find it!”

A FEW DAYS LATER, as I took my evening meal, Bette the cook winked and drew me aside. “There’s a way,” she said. “If you still want to see the Tavern.”

“How?” I asked, leaning in close. “And how soon?”

“It’s not exactly a state secret, jester. People have to eat, don’t they? Guards, soldiers… even prisoners. Every day my kitchen brings the evening meal to the dungeon. Who would mind if it was brought by the fool?”

My eyes lit up. The fool doing errands for the cook. It could work.

“I will give it a try,” Bette said. “The rest is up to you. If your wife is there, Hugh, it will take more than luck to get her out. Just don’t bring the duke’s awful wrath down on me.”

I took her hand and squeezed it. “I would bring nothing down upon you except my gratitude. I owe you much, Bette.”

“I told you, I owe you my cousins’ lives.”

“But somehow, I think it is more than what I did for Geoffrey, Isabel, and Thomas on the road here.”

She smiled and tossed a turnip into the pot. “ Baldwin is our liege.” She sniffed. “But he can never rule our hearts. I see why you have come. I can see you are in love. These hands may be rough and ugly, but I am not so removed from matters of the heart.”

[150] I began to blush. “Am I so transparent?”

“Don’t worry, love, no one else would notice. They’re too busy grabbing their sides and laughing at your silly jokes.”

I raised an onion the way one would raise a mug to make a toast. “We will keep each other’s trust, Bette.”

She lifted a turnip. We tapped them together.

“I feel a headache coming on.” She frowned. “Tomorrow eve. Be here at dusk.

“And something else, Hugh. You asked if a woman was being held in the cells. I checked. There is a lady staying in the Tavern. One who might fit your wife’s description. Fair-haired. And she keeps talking about an infant.”

These words… They were like the most exquisite magic for my soul. What was only a hope for so long now sprang free. Sophie was here! I knew it now. I would see her tomorrow night. At last!

I hugged Bette, almost knocking the poor woman into her pot of soup.

ALL THE NEXT DAY I waited for dusk to fall. Time passed with agonizing slowness. To make things worse, Baldwin called for me to entertain him while he got new boots measured by a shoemaker. What scum he was. I had to keep him amused while I thought of plunging a dagger into his heart.

Yet all the while I could barely count the time. I kept repeating Bette’s words to myself. I went over in my mind what I would do. How I would pull this off. I dreamed of Sophie’s face-the face I had known since I was a child. I imagined us back at our inn. Rebuilding it from scratch… Starting our life again. Having another child.

I sat on my bare mat as the afternoon wound down, watching the sun descend. Finally, the light from the slats above my space grew dim. It was dusk… It was finally time to see Sophie.

I made my way down to the kitchen. Bette was bustling about, complaining to the staff, a damp cloth pressed to her head for effect. “I’ve got to lie down. I’ve got the duke’s meals still to prepare. Who will carry over the soup to the Tavern? Hugh, what luck,” she said, spotting me. “Will you be a dear?”

“I am but two hands,” I joked to the staff, “and one …” I wiggled a finger and sniffed with a wrinkled nose. “… I use for scratching.”

[152] “That’s all I need.” Bette led me away. “Just make sure the other stays out of the soup.”

She took a covered pot from the hearth and announced, “Give it to Armand, the jailer. And give him that jug of wine. You’ve done me a good turn, fool.” Then she gripped me conspiratorially by the arm. “I wish you luck, Hugh. Be careful. It’s a bad place you go to now. It is hell.”

I carried the pot and the jug of wine across the courtyard. My arms trembled a bit. Two guards stood at the door of the keep, different ones than those who had booted me away the other day.

“Ding, ding, ding …dinner bell,” I announced ceremoniously.

“Who the hell are they putting to work in the kitchen now?” one of them asked.

“I do it all… jokes to dessert. The duke’s expenses must be trimmed.”

“The duke must be bankrupt if he sent you,” the other guard said.

To my relief, they didn’t question me. One opened the heavy door. “If you had nicer tits, I’d carry it down for you.” He sniffed.

The door slammed shut behind me. I felt a tremor of relief. I was in!

I stood in a narrow stone corridor lit only by candles. A narrow stairway leading down.

A draft hit me, then noises-the clang of iron, someone calling out, a high-pitched wail. I stepped down cautiously, my heart nearly bounding out of my chest, my neck beaded with cold sweat.

I descended one step at a time, the pot clanging against the narrow walls, the wine jug pressed to my chest.

The fearsome noises intensified. The smell grew horrible, like burned flesh. It made me think of Civetot.

I winced. Poor Sophie. If she was here, I had to get her out. Tonight.

[153] Finally, the passageway leveled off into a low, dungeonlike setting. The foul stink of excrement was all around. There was shouting from within, like that of mad people, terrifying moans and shrieks. I saw a hearth, and in it iron instruments, their tips white with heat.

My stomach grew hollow. Suddenly I did not know what to do-if I found her.

Two soldiers sat straddling a wooden tabletop, stripped down to sleeveless tunics and skirts. A swarthy one with hulking, imposing shoulders snickered at the sight of me. “We must be fucked. Look who brings our dinner.”

“You’re Armand?” I lugged the pot over.

He shrugged. “And if you’re the new chef, the duke’s really got it in for these poor bastards. Where’s Bette?”

“Down with a headache. She sent me instead.”

“Just set it here. There’s a pot from this afternoon you can take back up.”

I placed the pot on the table by a stack of wooden bowls. “How many guests tonight… in la Taverne?”

“What’s it to you?” the other asked.

“Never been down here before.” I looked around, ignoring him. “Cheery. You mind if I take a look?”

“This isn’t a marketplace, fool. You’ve done your chore. Now bug off.”

My chance was slipping away. I felt I only had a moment more to make my case. “C’mon, let me take in their food. I spend my day making silly jokes and spinning around like a top. Let me take a look. I’ll bring them their bowls.”

I placed the wine jug on the table in front of him. “Anyway, you guys really want to touch that slop?”

Armand slowly pulled the jug toward him. He took a swig of wine, then passed it along.

“What the hell.” He shrugged and winked at his partner. “Why not give the jester’s dick its rise. Take what you want in there. It’s free for the asking.”