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"Peverel knows the service passages better than anyone. He's been walking them for eleven years, and he's already managed to get copies of the archive records out beneath an archdeacon's seal."

I pointed toward the northern entrance.

"Fitzwalter replaced thirty-one soldiers when he took control of the castle. He paid considerable attention to the garrison."

"But not the clerks," Robin said.

"Exactly."

Tuck cleared his throat. "I can get a message to the archdeacon's household before the second hour."

Robin turned toward him. "Of course you can."

"I know the steward's brother."

"Naturally."

"He owes me a cask of ale."

"Then wake him," I said.

We spent the next hour finalizing the plan. Once we'd settled on the entrance, Robin took charge of arranging the diversion.

Merry and Little John would position a wagon near the stable outbuilding. They'd use damp straw to produce enough smoke to draw soldiers away from the inner courtyard without setting the building alight.

Meanwhile, several of John's men would interfere with the outer gate mechanism.

If the portcullis couldn't close properly, we'd have a way out.

Robin, Alana, and I would enter through the clerks' door and reach the undercroft passage before Hugh was brought upstairs.

Peverel would delay the escort at the service crossing, where the passage narrowed to about six feet.

It was a reasonable plan.

There were still far too many things that could go wrong, but I couldn't see a safer alternative.

Before everyone left, I raised one final concern.

"No unnecessary killing."

Little John looked at me. "Even Fitzwalter's men?"

"Even them."

I folded the map.

"We're going to appear before royal commissioners within the week. If we rescue Hugh without killing anyone, we have a chance of being heard. If we leave a dozen dead soldiers behind us, Fitzwalter will use it to justify every accusation he's made."

Robin nodded. “We get Hugh out. That's all."

"Exactly."

The clerks' entrance opened fifteen minutes before the fifth bell. Peverel stood on the other side with a lantern, its shutter nearly closed.

He wore an oversized cloak that looked as though it had belonged to someone twice his size.

"Sheriff," he whispered.