I heard a whip crack from that way, and I guessed what lay on the next floor down. I hit Rob’s wrist, and while he and the others began to move to the prisoners and pray with them, I darted off to the side, going down the stairs.

I stayed close to the wall, not sure whether playing the monk or the darting thief would help me with whatever stood at the bottom of the stairs. I walked down slow, seeing the rough, carved-out wall. It were wet with water. I crouched low, looking into the room, then pulling back. There were a big fire and blood. Blood everywhere. The prison were bare weeks old, and it already looked soaked into the ground, draining into a grate in the center of the room. There were manacles and chains and a wall of torture devices that made my knees weak. Some were stuck in the fire to make them hot and ready. By the fire there were a block with a groove chipped into it, washed over with blood till it set and stained. I knew what that were for: cutting off hands like they done to Much.

I swallowed back the sick taste in my mouth and went down the stairs. A big man with hair furred over his chest were there. He only had pants on and his skin were the color of bronze, but I didn’t know if it were from firelight, blood and sweat, or his own strange coloring. Whichever way, he were half again as big as John, and I felt fear creeping up.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Brother Francis,” I said. “Come to pray with the prisoner.”

He spat on the floor into the river of blood and nodded, going up to give me time alone with him.

The man sagged in his manacles, his ripped back seeping blood. His chains twisted and he wheeled around slow. It were Hugh Morgan, fool Mistress Morgan’s husband. “Brother,” he groaned, lowering his head. I could hear water running and the fire roaring, but he were gasping low, rasping out breath, and with it came spittle and drool.

“My child,” I said, my voice rough. “Why are they treating you like this?”

“They think I know where the Hood stays.”

“And you will not tell them?”

“They’ve taken everything from me. My wife and my daughters are upstairs—have you seen them?”

“Not yet. I’ll look.”

He nodded. “Tell them I love them.”

“You aren’t dying, Hugh.”

“You know my name?”

Damn. “Eh,” I said. “I’m a man of God, Hugh.” It were a weak lie.

“I won’t give them anything when they’ve taken everything else, Brother.”

I laid my hand on his chest, hoping he were too much in pain to see that it were small and smooth, with no furry knuckles. “Salvation will come, Hugh.” I leaned closer. “On the fourth day. Hold on, Hugh. Please, hold on.”

“Will the Christ come for me?” he groaned.

“No,” I said, tipping up my hood enough so he could see my eyes. “I will.”

I saw it then, in his eyes. Hope. The whole reason we did any of this, the whole reason I weren’t sure I could ever leave Rob—it were all hope.

“Stay strong, Hugh. And pray. It helps.”

“Look after my family.”

I nodded as the torturer came down the stairs. I went to him. “This man has confessed his soul to me, and he swears no knowledge of the Hood’s hole. I cannot fathom he would risk his immortal soul to protect a rapscallion.”

The man heaved a grunt, looking at him. “Done with his lot anyway. If the Hood has a haunt, these people don’t know of it.”

I started up the stairs, then paused. “If you want to confess yourself, God and his Son both wait to lighten your soul,” I told him.

He thought it over a moment. I didn’t know if he had a ripe secret to confess, and I were sure I’d have to confess it myself on Sunday, but it were worth the chance. “No, Brother.”

I nodded, going up the stairs. The others were with the prisoners, speaking to them, praying with them. I walked through and saw Mistress Morgan and her girls huddled together and sobbing. I slipped bread in through the bars, not meeting her eyes as she took it. She caught my wrist and squeezed it, not a cruel thing but a kind one, and I nodded. It weren’t the time for pride.

I parceled out the rest of the food that I snuck in, and I didn’t speak. Hugh would spread the word more quiet than me.

It were a terrible feeling to leave. I thought of Ravenna, and Joanna, and all the times I left someone behind and near killed myself for it later. It wouldn’t be the same with them. I could get them out.

We three left, and we never spoke till we gathered at Tuck’s after returning Benedict and the robes. Once there, we went down to the cellar, and Tuck brought us ale to drink.

“It’s not far from the tunnel,” I said. “Much closer than the last.”

“Yes, but we’ll have to have a monumental distraction. Something to draw all those guards out of the prison, because the only way in and out is the front entrance.”

I nodded, thinking of the grate in the floor below. I’d have to see where that led before I piped up, though.

“I think I can create a distraction,” Much said. “With the powder from the cave.”

“An explosion?” Robin asked.

Much shook his head. “I haven’t found enough for an explosion. Close to it, but not enough.”

“But what can we light that they’ll care about?” I asked. “The residences are too close. It won’t give us near enough time.”

“The noble residences,” Rob said, draining his cup. “But I reckon all the guards have families in the shacks. And we want the guards defecting, don’t we?”