A Spy for the Redeemer by Candace Robb

Sarah and Joseph would have been aware of the treasury.
    ‘Do not hurry on my account,’ Lucie said. ‘Cook managed to bake this morning?’
    ‘She said we must eat,’ Sarah mumbled.
    ‘Does her son Joseph look like cook?’ Lucie asked.
    Sarah’s ruddy cheeks darkened and she ducked her head behind one of the cages. ‘He is dark like her, Mistress.’
    ‘How long ago was he sent away?’
    ‘He was not sent away. He went off to be a soldier.’ She was inching towards the door.
    ‘Have you seen him since?’
    Sarah shook her head as she reached behind her for the latch and freedom. Sweat darkened the scarf on her head.
    ‘You have no cause to be frightened,’ Lucie said as she moved towards the door, forcing Sarah into the corner. ‘Tell me about Joseph.’
    Sarah shook her head. ‘I am not to speak of him. Cook made me swear.’
    ‘I am your mistress, Sarah. And Cook’s.’
    Lucie persisted, patiently asking questions, until the young woman began to talk. Joseph had been brought up by Nan’s cousin, a tavern keeper, who trained the young man as a groom. But the lad could not take criticism from his betters. Saddle straps were tampered with, horses were fed purges as they departed the stable. Japes, Joseph called them. He had been ordered off the premises by his cousin. He had come to Freythorpe, thinking to become a groom at the manor. But he soon discovered that only Sarah laughed at his japes. Adam, the steward, had made it clear he would not entrust Joseph with the horses, having made it his business to find out why the man had left the tavern.
    ‘Why do you suppose you are not to speak of him?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Did he aim any of his japes at Walter the gatekeeper?’ It had occurred to Lucie that Walter might have been the target of the damage to the gatehouse.
    Sarah was shaking her head.
    ‘He had no problem with Walter?’
    ‘No, Mistress. His mother, Adam the steward, the other grooms – he had his fun with them, no others.’
    His mother, the steward, and the poor lads who worked alongside him. Lucie stepped away from the door. ‘You may go now. And do not fret, Sarah. I shall not mention this to Cook.’
    As Lucie stepped back into the hall, she heard Winifred thanking Tildy for sitting with her son. Not the time for Lucie to appear. She slipped out of the rear door and into the kitchen garden. Brother Michaelo perched at the edge of the bench for which Lucie was headed, breathing hard. He had a bucket of water at his feet.
    ‘I must wash off the dust and ashes,’ he explained as Lucie joined him. He had soot on his tonsure and smelled of damp ashes.
    ‘You have been helping with the gatehouse?’
    ‘I have. Though how much help I have been I cannot say.’
    His modesty was becoming. ‘I am grateful for all you have done, Brother Michaelo. My father was blessed in his friends.’
    He bowed his head.
    ‘Have you seen Harold?’
    ‘He is still out in the yard, helping clear the debris.’ Michaelo began to rise, then changed his mind. ‘Forgive me if I seem to pry, Mistress Wilton, but what do you mean to do? Will you leave as you had planned?’
    ‘I cannot stay. My children, my work are in the city. I pray the servants and tenants understand that I am not fleeing the trouble. I would lief stay until everything is put right, but how can I do that?’
    ‘Your people understand. But might I suggest – you could ask Harold to return after he escorts you to the city. He has worked hard, side by side with the men, and they appear to trust him. I can find no fault in the decisions he has made or the manner in which he has proceeded.’
    ‘You have changed your mind about him.’
    ‘I was uncertain about him before. God has given me the opportunity to judge him by his deeds. It is the best way to know a man. And now I shall hold my peace. I merely thought –’
    ‘I thank you for your advice, Brother Michaelo. I shall speak to Harold.’
    Michaelo looked relieved. ‘And for