Anne of the Fens by Gretchen Gibbs

every bend in the road. Mother’s face was pale and drawn, and Sarah had slunk into a corner of the carriage, too sullen to join in our fearful backward glances.
    When we reached the tree-lined road that followed the river and led to Tattershall Castle, I breathed a sigh of relief. But, as we rounded the next bend, we saw a cloud of dust far behind us. We all gasped at the same moment.
    Father, on top of the carriage, yelled, “The pimpled Church of England swine. Get some speed out of the damned horses, Jack!”
    I knew Father hoped to cross the moat and raise the drawbridge before the Sheriff’s men caught up. It was no use. The carriage was no match for men on horses. The cloud of dust grew nearer and larger.
    By the time we crossed the drawbridge, they were galloping alongside us. The Sheriff pulled ahead of us and signaled us to stop. I liked his fat, red face less than ever. We stopped in front of the castle.
    â€œStand down,” the Sheriff said to Father. The rest of us stepped out of the carriage as well. Mother and the other girls stood watching to see what would happen, but as more and more men on horses arrived, I slipped behind the others and began walking toward the castle. For once I was glad to be young and small for my age.
    I could hear the beginning of the conversation behind me.
    â€œAn unfortunate document showed up today at the market in Boston. It was treasonous, and it was addressed to your daughter.” Father replied, “Do you have it?”
    I was so glad I had taken it away. Perhaps Father could talk his way out of it.
    â€œIn addition, it was written on the back of a statement of John Holland’s treason. There is a rumor that he is here.”
    My hands were suddenly damp. The family might be saved from Sarah’s folly, but Father would not be able to do anything to help John. It was up to me. The Sheriff’s men had searched the castle before, but this time they would do it more thoroughly, and they would almost certainly find the secret room.
    Think, think, I told myself frantically.
    I headed toward the kitchen and could hear no more. Cook was reluctant to obey me. I had to command, in a voice I did not know I had. I sped back toward the castle with a bundle. I passed well away from my father and the group, but when the Sheriff shouted “Halt,” I halted.
    â€œWho goes?” he called.
    I turned to face the Sheriff and the others and made a curtsey, as well as I could with my bundle.
    â€œIt is merely my eleven year old daughter,” Father said. “I doubt she poses a threat.”
    â€œWas it you who removed the paper from the posting board?”
    Oh Sarah, Sarah, show me how to lie . I smoothed my face and slowed my breath and said, “What paper, Sir?”
    Father interrupted. “She is only a child, and a little simple besides.”
    The Sheriff shrugged and made a motion with his hand toward the door.
    I walked into the castle in the manner of a young, embarrassed girl. I did not think of it till later, but Father himself knew how to lie; it had been four years since I was eleven. I ran up the stairs to the second floor.
    When I got to the fireplace, there were two servants standing in front of it, so deep in conversation they did not hear me. I heard the word “Sheriff.” They looked up at me with guilty expressions.
    â€œIf you go to the window there, you can hear them,” I said.
    They looked surprised that I had not reprimanded them for gossip. They hastened across the room toward the window and were quickly absorbed in the scene outside.
    I pulled the rabbit ears and hurried under the tapestry. In a moment, I was inside the secret room.
    John had his knife poised to attack as I entered. He dropped his arm when he saw it was I. His window faced away from the courtyard, but he must have heard the servants talking, to be so prepared.
    â€œHurry,” I said, handing him my bundle. Again I was surprised by