The Friar's Tale, стр. 25
He pulled the man to his feet, dragging him up the stairs by his collar. He had dropped his weapons, and did not struggle. Perhaps he realized his life expectancy was far greater if he did not argue with the outlaws.
"Where is the witch?" Robin demanded.
The man made an incoherent sound. Tuck thrust him up the stairs ahead of them. If he took an arrow, then so be it.
The other two guards seemed to have realized archery was not their strong point. Both had swords out at this point. Tuck noticed that they did not seem to be incompetent. Unfortunately. It was only shooting they could not do.
They hesitated, though, rather than charge towards their comrade.
Robin spun his staff across his hands. Tuck could not quite juggle staff and hostage well enough to bring his own into play. He focused instead of using the man as a shield...although if the guards were good enough they could probably reach around the guy and still get to a good part of the rotund friar.
Instead, both of them charged Robin. He was not the staff fighter John was...Tuck had seen that man handle a quarter staff well enough to give nice sets of lumps to four of the other outlaws at once...but he was competent. Even the best swords had difficulty cutting a well-tempered oaken staff. One got lucky, nicking Robin's weapon a couple of times.
He retaliated by swinging it into the man's gut.
"Stand down," Tuck called. "Or I'll inflict some serious pain on your friend here."
They all knew he could not kill the man, because then he would have no protection. Beating him up, though, was well within the realms of possibility. The man knew it, Tuck heard him swallow, felt him tense up. Smelled his sweat.
Well. If all went well, he would live, although knowing the Sheriff, possibly without a job. Heck, if Tuck was the sheriff and they got away with Clorinda, he would fire the guards involved too. He could not afford to show them any compassion.
Better they lost their jobs than Clorinda her life.
They were hesitating again. "Where is the witch?" Robin hissed. "Tell me and let me pass...and nobody has to get hurt."
His voice carried a strong conviction, but the guards apparently wanted to keep their jobs. They launched at him again. This time, he swung the staff low, knocking the legs of one of them out from under him. The other managed to get past Robin's guard, his blade drawing a thin line of red down the outlaw's arm. He hissed but did not cry out.
The second one was getting up. Tuck tossed the hostage into the wall, freed his staff, and hit the man from behind. He went down like a poleaxed steer. The hostage had apparently lost all will to fight. He lay against the wall, visibly unwilling to attempt to move. Possibly, his bell had been rung by hitting the wall.
Robin flickered Tuck a grin and then almost casually knocked out the second one, the blade falling to the ground.
"She's on the next floor," the hostage gasped. "Just don't kill me."
"Coward," Tuck informed him. He dragged him back to his feet, pushing him ahead up the stairs. In case he had lied.
There was a central chamber on the next floor and cells set around it. "Which one?"
"Number three," the poor guard choked out.
Maybe he would be better off losing his job. He clearly wasn't very good at it. "You need a new line of work. Pig farming, maybe."
Robin walked over, pulled the keys from the guard's pocket and unlocked the cell door.
"What took you so long?" came the voice from within.
The unfortunate guard was tagging along behind, afraid to follow and afraid not to follow. He was clearly not sure whether it was better to be conked on the head by Tuck or fired. Clorinda was miserably thin, and had clearly been roughed up, but was otherwise fine.
Remarkably so, given she had been in prison on charges of witchcraft. Maybe she'd had the sense to pretend to be a stupid, silly girl who had fallen in with the outlaws over some affair of the heart.
Somehow, they made it to the passageway without being shot. Tuck pushed the guard ahead of them now. They'd had plenty of time to arrange an ambush at the bottom end, he thought.
Robin spoke, softly, "Did they do you permanent harm?"
Clorinda shook her head. "Nothing that won't heal quickly enough."
Tuck had noticed as they ran across the courtyard that she had a split lip and a black eye. She was probably lucky if she still had all of her teeth.
But she would heal. He was sure of that. And if she did not, then they would come back and do something permanent to the sheriff.
Tuck assigned himself a good two dozen Hail Marys as penance for that thought. It was not right to be quite so angry. Even if the man did deserve it, by all he had heard.
And yes, there was the ambush. The guard gave a slight sigh as an arrow struck him in the chest.
Damn, Tuck thought. He had not intended to get the man killed. He thrust forward, continuing to use him as a shield...he could tell from that sound that he could be hurt no further in this world. A couple more arrows hit the dying man, and then Tuck was able to throw him aside and thrust his staff into the first of the archers. It happened to hit somewhere lower than the gut and the man went down, screaming in agony.
Tuck's own balls tried to contract up into his abdomen in sympathy, but he did not have time to stop. He had to get clear of the passage so that the two behind could come into the fight. He swung the staff again, and felt an arrow graze his arm. This time, it bit