The public house sat at the edge of the square. From the woods Petra could just make out the barred windows. Anne drew her to the other side of the building, where a guard sat on a stool in front of the door. He had a brown jug at his feet and a ring of keys on his belt. A dark cloud hovered, threatening rain.

A few villagers walked up the street, on their way to market. No longer breakfast and not quite midday, the inn beside the jailhouse looked empty, although the innkeeper and his wife were probably inside preparing lunch. The bakery across the lane had pies in the window, and a fragrant smoke rose from the chimney stack. From inside came a scolding voice.

A mean wind blew in, tossing leaves and branches. Undoubtedly it would be better to wait for night, but Anne said conviction and sentencing didn’t have to wait for a trial. And a storm waited for no one.

What if they were caught? Chambers might want to put Anne behind bars, but would he risk turning Garret against him? Of course, as far as Chambers was considered, Petra was expendable.

Anne lifted her loom mallet and gave Petra a wide eyed look as if to ask now what? Petra smiled nervously, and took her phone from her purse. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. I’m here to help, she reminded herself.

Flipping open the phone, she scrolled through the options, and pressed a button. Barking dogs.

The guard, a beefy guy not much taller than Petra but much heavier, looked in their direction, shifted in his chair, pushed back his hat, and closed his eyes. A dog in the street spun in circles, snout lifted for scent.

Anne stared at Petra. Petra flashed her another brief smile and then returned to her phone. Moments later, Breaking Benjamin began to scream. Petra upped the volume and watched the guard dash into the woods.

Anne jumped from behind the log to trip the charging guard and then hit him over the head with her mallet.

Petra switched off the phone, dropped it and lunged for the keys as Anne whacked the guard again.

“Let’s hide him behind that boulder.” Petra took one arm. Anne grabbed the other and they dragged him a few feet.

“Hurry,” Anne urged, her mallet poised over the guard’s head.

Keys in hand, Petra took off for the town square, holding the cloak tight to hide her face. The bakery still rang with scolding. Only a tailor, a round man with a gimpy walk, came to watch Petra throw the keys into the cell window.

“Hey!” the tailor called, but Petra sprinted back into the woods, choosing a path that wouldn’t lead to Anne and the guard. Hiding behind a cedar, Petra watched the tailor hesitate at the edge of the woods. He scratched his head, and then, after a few moments, limped back to his shop, wiping his forehead from the exertion.

Petra joined Anne in a thicket of alders. “The guard?” Petra asked.

Anne drew the vial of sleeping potion from her pocket. “He won’t be waking soon.” She grabbed Petra’s hand, and they ran into the woods.

Petra closed the cottage door and leaned against it, breathless. “You were brilliant!”

Anne took off her hat, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. “So were you!”

“Hush,” Petra said, listening for something other than the lowing cow and singing birds. She thought she heard snapping twigs and heavy footsteps.

“Quick!” Anne said, who must have heard also. She pushed Petra into her room. “Change your clothes!”

But Petra had never dressed in the Countess’ clothes without Mary. “What about you?” she whispered.

Anne threw on an apron over her pants and opened her shirt to unwind the cloths. Moments later someone pounded on the door.

Petra disappeared into the bedroom before she heard the door screech open.

“Rohan!” Anne shouted.

Petra, halfway out of her breeches, called, “Welcome Sir Rohan!” She pulled on the pants.

By the time she’d buttoned her shirt, Anne and Rohan were at the table, clearly plotting. They looked up when she entered, and stopped talking.

Rohan stared, fighting a smile.

“What?” she asked even as she realized her buttons were cattywampus.

Rohan cleared his throat. “I do not think Emory would approve of your involvement, although he may appreciate your revealing attire.”

Revealing attire? She wore a pair of pants four sizes too big and a man’s cotton shirt. “I don’t care what Emory thinks,” she lied, cinching the belt of the breeches. “I’m not going to be left out. If it weren’t for me and Anne’s trusty hammer, you’d be growing mold in the town jail.”

Rohan grinned. “I thought you’d say something like that.” He cocked his head. “Have you any other tricks?”

A wave of realization hit her. “Plenty, but I’ll only share them if you promise we can help.”

“Help with what?”

“Don’t toy with us, Friar Rohan,” Anne shook a finger at him. “Tell us immediately where is Master Emory.”

Rohan looked at his toes.

“Has he been captured by Chambers and the Earl?” Anne demanded.

Rohan gave a small shake of his head.

“He’s there; isn’t he?” Petra guessed. “He’s at Hampton Court.” She pulled out a chair and sat at the table, her mind spinning.

Rohan tightened his lips and then spoke slowly, as if unsure of how much to reveal. “Chambers plan begins tonight. Emory is expecting me without a harem.”

His implication was clear, but Petra wasn’t buying it. She looked at Anne and back at Rohan. “You can’t ditch us.”

“Yes. You can’t leave us in a ditch or in a cottage, for that matter.” Anne nodded emphatically. “We are no harem.” She took off her apron and showed Rohan her brother’s baggy shirt.

“You too, Anne?” Rohan said in mock despair.

“Don’t try to leave us,” Petra said. “We will just follow.”

Wind whistled through the trees, and rain splattered against the shuttered window. Cold seeped through the cracks of the door.

“T’will prove a wild night,” Rohan said.

“The storm will be vicious,” Anne agreed, but Petra didn’t think that that was what Rohan had meant. Anne secured the shutters as rain began to fall

The damp barnyard smell seeped in, giving Petra an idea. “I want to try something,” she said.

Anne and Rohan gave her curious looks.

“It might not work, but if it did…I need sugar, no? Well then, honey crystals?”

When Anne nodded, Petra studied the tapestries. “And dye, preferably orange and red.” Then she went to the window and looked at the barn. “And whiskey. And cow pies.”

Petra dumped the contents of her purse on the table and picked up Zoe’s Girl Scout gadget. “And this.”

The gadget had a pocket knife, spoon, compass and a tiny pair of scissors, but most importantly, a lighter. Petra flicked it, and a small blue flame shot up.

Rohan and Anne gasped.

“Just wait.” Petra sent a silent prayer of gratitude to Bill Nye the Science Guy and Mr. Manning, best chemistry teacher ever.