The Friar's Tale, стр. 20

You'll look either scared or humble...or both. Either way, not a threat. At least you shouldn't be recognized." Tuck was not sure who had taken care of Robin's hair, but it was no less neat than his own. And nobody expected friars to be neat. They slept under trees most of the time, after all.

Robin nodded. "I know how we're going to get her out. If we can. If we can't..."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Now, hush, I hear hoofbeats."

The rider went chasing past. A message rider on a fast horse, Tuck noted. He kept walking, returning to the road once the horse was past. He did not, however, feel it safe to return to the conversation.

They walked in silence. What Tuck was doing would require a major penance if he confessed it. Assisting somebody in imitating a member of his order? Breaking a witch out of jail? Actually, he decided, that he would probably be defrocked. Or they could try, anyway. He felt he was doing the right thing in the eyes of God, if not in those of Man.

Clorinda had never poisoned anyone and if she was a witch, she had cast no spell on him. Maybe one on Will, but that was the spell any woman could cast. It was a woman's power, after all, to lure a man into her bed.

Often, it was the only power they had, and if they claimed more, they were witches.

Tuck knew what was expected of women.

He thought, for a moment, of the Lady In Blue. As he did so, he thought he saw something larger than a butterfly, but winged like one, cross the path.

"Robin."

The young man stopped. "You saw it?" he whispered.

"I did." Not a hallucination, then. Not if they had both seen it. A pixie, the least of fairies. A creature that did nothing but dance and laugh. Harmless.

Unless you believed the church doctrine that all of the fae were demons. The Sidhe might well qualify...those who stole children and sometimes men and women, releasing them only after decades had passed. The purpose for which they took adults was generally considered to be passion.

Some in the church said the stories of changelings were invented...that the human child had not really been replaced by a fairy. Or that the child replaced by a lump of wood was the work of a mortal woman desperate for a baby of her own.

Some women would steal children. It was a known sickness, not uncommon amongst women who were unable to conceive or those who had experienced a recent miscarriage or stillbirth. It was a sin, but generally not considered a crime. In fact, it was not uncommon to resolve the issue by giving the thief an orphan to raise.

"I call that a good omen."

"I do not know what I call it, except that from what I hear." Tuck glanced at Robin. "Where there are pixies, there is likely to be worse."

"You do not consider them demons, then?"

"I don't know what I consider them. They're not exactly benevolent, unless you can convince a brownie to move in with you."

"No, but not always malevolent, either. And it was only a pixie." Robin fell silent, for now they were approaching the outskirts of a village.

Two friars discussing having seen a fairy would have been suspicious. Rather than find a new subject of conversation, Tuck too became silent. He observed his surroundings with some thought.

The town they were heading for was half a day further. He would have suggested stopping here for lunch, but he doubted the villagers had anything to spare.

This was Gisbourne's territory, and deep within it. Whoever was looking after things while he was on crusade had tightened the purse strings. He saw only thin, hungry faces. Their clothing had seen better days. One little boy ran across the street wearing what looked like his father's shirt and nothing else.

Then again, that was not uncommon even when there was some money. Children grew out of clothes so quickly that few parents would take much care. There was a reason the rich dressed toddlers in dresses. Easy to let down.

A thin dog followed him. It appeared to have mange, and it limped as lawed dogs always did. Tuck could count the unfortunate creature's ribs.

No doubt they had no food for him, and a lawed dog could not forage for itself. Not with no front claws. Which was, of course, the point.

Tuck flinched. "These people need help."

Robin nodded. "They need a better lord than Gisbourne. But the prince would not likely replace him."

"I hear his son is already no better." The young Gisbourne was no more than fourteen and already set fair along his father's path. "His death in the Holy Land would not help them." He kept his voice quiet. Even in such a place, Gisbourne would have agents. Or at least loyal followers. Some men would support even a lord who ill-used them.

"That is what I hear too. We should not impinge on them for alms."

Tuck nodded. "We can eat the bread we have. These people need to be given alms, not asked for them."

A goodwife had come out of one of the buildings. She seemed a little better off than most. "Good brothers. I could perhaps..."

Tuck turned towards her. "We would not take anything from you that you need yourselves."

"You truly do not seek alms?"

"We have extra from the last place we visited." Tuck glanced at Robin. He was letting him do the talking. "It seems you have little or nothing to spare."

The woman seemed completely...nonplussed. "Truly?"

"Truly. We are poor friars, we have very little need." Which was true. In terms of needs, Tuck needed food, a place to lay his head and, every so often, a new habit. Of course, he also had a few wants. Like ale. "If I had anything to spare, I would give it to those here who need it."

It seemed almost an alien concept to her. The concept that somebody would not demand of