The Friar's Tale, стр. 15
There had to be some ale around here somewhere.
"So, then he fell right off the back of the thing and landed on his back in the sand. We thought he'd broken something."
"So, they're as tall as horses?"
"Taller," Tuck supplied. "They kneel down for you to mount...and then lurch upwards. Which is why the knight fell off."
"I have sympathy. Horses are hard enough to sit on. Why do they use those things?"
"Because they can go for a week without a sip of water. They're used by the tribes of the deep desert, where oases can be that far apart. You can't carry enough water for a bunch of horses. Hard enough to carry enough for the humans. But they are the ugliest creatures in both body and mind." Tuck reached for his mug of ale and found it empty. When did that happen?
"I'm glad I don't live in the desert," Clorinda murmured.
"You should be. The Bedouin...as they call themselves...treat their woman as precious, fragile treasures."
"In other words, they never let them do anything."
"They believe God made man naturally superior to woman. Women are not even allowed to ride...they stay in the oases and walk if they must travel." Tuck shook his head a little.
"Then they're idiots. Worse idiots than most." Clorinda reached for an arrow and started to sharpen it, making her point in a rather literal manner.
Will laughed. "Well, most men are afraid that if they let their women out of their sight..."
"Who else is there? I'm certainly not going to leave you for the Friar here!" She laughed, setting the arrow down.
Tuck laughed with her. "I wouldn't let you, anyway." He hesitated. "I never had much interest in women."
Now it was Will's turn to laugh. "The only one I'd worry about losing her to is Robin. Don't deny it, Clorinda, I've seen you look at him."
"Well, his heart is held by others. I'm not going to try and compete with either of them."
"His...devotion." Was Robin, in some odd way, in love with the Virgin or the idea of her? He knew some men who felt that way.
"And his lover," Clorinda added, flickering a mischievous grin to Will.
"That I don't want to know about."
Will laughed. "You've seen them together, Friar. I know you aren't blind."
He thought of the two men coming out of the tent, and of other things he had seen the edges of, and nodded. He was trying his best to be okay with it, but he didn't really want to think about it. At least he had never experienced that urge. It was getting harder to judge, though.
"Most men don't. I've always wondered if they aren't afraid they might like it." Clorinda's tone was amused as she placed, firmly, the final piece to confirm his suspicions.
And he sure as heck knew stuff went on between the novices. Monkswort helped most of them, but not all. Some, he suspected, simply should not be there. Some men could not handle celibacy and should be married.
And some men... He tailed off. "I have absolutely no interest in finding out. Besides. Vow of celibacy."
"And obedience. What happened to obedience?" she teased. "I don't see you following the dictates of the church."
He laughed. "I follow the dictates of my order, not the church as a whole. Hence why I'm out here wandering the streets barefoot."
"In a mule cart."
"It helps me perform acts of charity. Like donating all of my ale..." Not that he was really still sore about that. But it gave him ammunition.
He was coming to like Clorinda. He had not thought it would be possible to work with a woman as an equal, but with this one? He could manage it. She was no frail flower who needed protecting, but one of the best hunters in the band.
Will clearly saw much in her that Tuck could not. Did that make it easier or harder?
"I only drank one mug of it!" Clorinda protested, cutting into his thoughts.
"What, was it that bad?" Whatever she said, he was not about to let her win the conversation, even if there was no prize. It made him feel more part of the group, more...involved with everything that was going on.
"No. John grabbed the rest of the keg before I could and drank the entire thing."
Tuck laughed. He could easily see John draining a small traveling keg as if it was a mug. The man was a walking tree. And dangerous with a staff. Far more dangerous than Tuck himself. Yet, Tuck felt perfectly safe with him.
He was surrounded by sinners and heretics...and he had never been happier in his life.
6
Abbot Moresford was on the road in style. Tuck was pretty sure, from his vantage point, that the swaying carriage contained the Abbot's wife or mistress. Whichever she was. It did not matter...his vows forbade him either.
On the other hand, he had been the younger son of some lord and used to style, when he had been forced into the cloister. Tuck could not bring himself to judge him too harshly.
He did not entirely forgive him. Not when he saw the fine pair of matched bays drawing the carriage. The fine blacks ridden by the outriders. It seemed the Abbott was in the carriage with his woman right now, his own horse being led by an outrider. It was not a small horse, and not quite as fine as the blacks. Perhaps a personal favorite?
Robin, nearby, hissed, "I say we take the horse."
He had perhaps come to the same conclusion. And it was a fine animal, but somewhat nondescript. It would be easy to sell on.
They had run out of gold from the last time they had robbed the Abbot. Tuck had no intention of actually participating in the ambush. He intended to watch. To learn, perhaps.
To see if Robin kept his word and left the Abbot and his