The Friar's Tale, стр. 13

From the first of the sentences, the Friar divined the man's personal problem. "I am but a friar," he said, spreading his hands. "I have no control over the actions of the Church."

"And the one who does, no doubt, has a mistress and satins."

There was no word on whether the Pope had a mistress or not, but Tuck would be surprised if he did not. "You're probably right. But there's nothing we, here, can do about it."

Tuck could, himself, set a good example, but... He added, "And I admit, I'm a poor figure of a man of God myself."

"No, you are a very good figure of one, which I suppose is what you refer to."

The reference to his bulk did not go over his head. Rather than allowing himself to get upset, he chose to laugh it off. "Even on poor provender, I will never be as skinny as Robin. I think I would starve before actually losing weight."

The old man actually laughed. "I knew somebody like that, except far more unfortunate. A fat man, at worst, is called a glutton. A fat woman..."

Tuck found himself relaxing. Turning it into banter had worked. "So, that is why you are out here. To strike against the Church? Not, I would hope, against God."

"I have little interest in a God who would have followers such as that," the man said, bitterly.

Had he found one of those few, elusive, followers of the old ways? Or simply a man who hated God. There were more of the latter than the Church would like, and even amongst the laity it was common belief that such consigned themselves to Hell. But it was easy to hate the Church. Easy, therefore, to hate God.

"God gives us free will. That includes the freedom to make fools of ourselves. I have no doubt but that He is highly embarrassed by the actions of some of those who claim to be his men." Tuck had had that thought before.

"Maybe. I am skeptical. When the bad outnumber the good... But you. Why are you out here?"

"I have nowhere better to go."

Richard laughed again. "Aye, I suppose not, as your Order has no permanent cloister."

"We have some buildings, but they are used only for the instruction of novices." He remembered those days for a moment.

"And I doubt you had any choice about becoming one."

"It was novice or seeking a bride. Novice appealed more at the time." Had he regretted it? Occasionally. But what he regretted more was not having had the money to apprentice a guild. "Perhaps a huge part of the Church's problem, though, is that so many don't have the choice." How could somebody be devout when the Church had been chosen for them?

The common wisdom, of course, was that you were doing your son or daughter a great favor by dedicating them to God, much as Samuel had been bound to the temple. The offering of the first born, that. A sacrifice...letting one's heir become a priest.

"You're probably right. But then, who the heck would choose to be a monk?"

"You might be surprised there. I have known some who are genuinely devout. But they're outnumbered by the unwanted younger sons and ugly daughters." Most of the nuns Tuck had encountered had been rather unattractive.

"I'm sure Christ appreciates his brides being ugly."

The man riffed off of one of the common euphemisms for a nun. "Well, they are women." Women never had much choice, with a few rare exceptions. Some women managed to be independent within guilded professions, especially brewing, and some kept stores or taverns. "If they can't attract a man, what choices do they have?"

The old man snorted a bit. "More than I think they think."

"Not if they don't want to play the man." Tuck tailed off. He wondered, for a moment, if the world couldn't use more women like Clorinda. But then, women had their special duty, the one men could neither understand nor share.

"We all have more choices than we think." He walked away, leaning on his cane.

Tuck shook his head. The man was either an idealist or a fool. He knew of no men who had actually truly chosen their path. He thought of Lionheart, chained to a throne he did not wish and leading men to die in the Holy Land just to avoid it. He thought of the villagers, who seemed happy, but no doubt only because having a choice would not occur to them.

Most people did not think that way. They accepted who they were, married a suitable man or woman, followed their profession and bred children. It was not wise to seek more than that, except through the vehicle of the church. And the church demanded much sacrifice.

Maybe that was the real reason the Crusades were so attractive. They broke the pattern. They opened a place for people who did not fit in. Of course, they would all likely end up dead. One day their tattered remnants would return to England, leaving the Holy Land to the Saracens and the vultures. Tuck was sure of that.

The Holy Land had a lot of vultures. Most of them were human.