The Friar's Tale, стр. 21

He could see her thinking. "What we might ask is if there is a good log or stump hereabouts on which we might rest for a few minutes. We are hoping to make Nottingham by nightfall."

She nodded. "Then you have quite a walk, but I suppose you are used to it. Take the east road. It's quicker."

She seemed more relaxed, now she knew she would not have to provide lunch for them. And willing to offer that which she could afford. Tuck thought about the fairy.

Maybe the fae could help these people. It was, however, unlikely that they would. The fae seldom helped anyone. Except, of course, themselves. That made them little different from humans.

They found a log in the village green, and sat down, eating bread.

"I forget how poor these people can be," Robin mused.

"There is not much we can do for them. If they had food to sell, we could buy it from them, but it seems they do not have even enough for their own stomachs." He could see the mangy dog, or one from the same litter, rummaging through some trash at the side of the street.

He did not want to think about what might be in it. How much of this poverty was Gisbourne's fault, this close to Nottingham?

Robin threw part of his crust to the dog.

"Probably shouldn't have done that. It's likely to follow us now."

"Good point." He stood and stretched. "Let's go."

There was almost a please in his tone. He did not want to be here. He did not want to think about being here.

Tuck was inclined to agree. They could talk about it later. Later when the greenwood surrounded them and no ears that might belong to lord or abbott were around.

For the rest of the day they walked along a road that slowly improved. It was the goose road, where the geese would be driven for the autumn fair. It followed, in part, the line of an old Roman road.

Ahead of them was the city, and above it, the castle. It was the latter one first saw, perched on the rock above the city. Sheer cliffs fell down from it, riddled with caves. The people kept ale in some of those caves, brewed it in others. Lived in some. The caves were a part of the city.

Nottingham had no true wall, only an earthen barricade. This was a relatively stable place, seldom touched by war. There was no need for the more extensive defenses of York, which to this day got raided by the occasional viking.

"That castle always seems..."

"Watchful?" Tuck inquired, glancing towards Robin.

"Vigilant. Not always in a good way. They use some of the caves as a prison. She will be there."

Which meant...the caves. Not all of them were interconnected, but most were. Tuck could certainly not make his way through the smaller gaps, the ones that did not officially exist. Robin, not much larger than many women himself, had a far better chance.

"So, we go into..." And then Robin's eyes lit, his entire face. "I know exactly how to get there."

Tuck was almost frightened by the man's intensity. He had not previously experienced that level of drive from the leader, not aimed at him.

Now he understood why men and women would follow him through the fire. Perhaps even why he, himself, had not yet left. That fire leached through the man and flowed off of him. It drew Tuck onwards.

The town of Nottingham was clustered around the base of the rock. Around it were water meadows and fields. The road led first through those fields, then past a few poor houses, then through the barricade.

Inside, houses leaned against one another like drunken brothers. The upper storeys shaded the streets.

"First, we go to the inn."

"Which one?"

Robin shot him a look. "The only one in this place worth visiting."

Tuck frowned but followed. They were heading towards the base of the rock. The streets were somewhat muddy and at one point they had to dodge a chamber pot being emptied into the street.

Tuck suspected the much-vaunted Romans had a better way of dealing with that, but that had been many centuries ago. Rome, these days, had a quite different meaning. A black cat looked out from an alleyway and mewed softly.

"Good luck," Robin muttered.

Tuck nodded. Black cats were sometimes considered to be the familiars of witches, but could also mean the best of luck to those who saw them. Magical creatures, and magic could go both ways. For all that some in the church said otherwise. "We need it."

Some sort of basket could be seen being pulled up the cliff. "What's that?"

"Ale for the castle," Robin noted. The basket vanished into a hole, some kind of chimney cave no doubt. "Why put up with the brewing smell in your castle if you can hire a brewmaster who works directly under you?"

"In this inn you mentioned." Tuck knew Robin. He was not just after good ale. Was he after the basket? It looked too small to hold a man. But not too small to hold, say, a message.

"Yes. And don't worry, you will have time to get a mug, my friend."

Tuck laughed. From any distance, their banter would seem to be that of two brothers traveling together. Nobody was that close. A white goose crossed the road in front of them, chased by a small girl in a homespun dress. If she was going to be a goose girl, she had a lot to learn.

The inn was set against the cliff, possibly built into it. No doubt at least the cellar was. The sign outside was a pilgrim with a staff. "The Pilgrim," Tuck translated.

"Yes. Owned by the Templars and the start of many a crusade. You did not leave from here?"

"I was in London when I decided to make pilgrimage, but now I seem to recall this place being mentioned." He did indeed. It was a half-timbered building, with a large