The Friar's Tale, стр. 31
He was probably married to somebody else. Likely, in fact, he was not ill-favored. Then again, ill-favored was not always on the outside. Tuck had met many handsome men who were cruel and beautiful women who were ruthless. It did not always follow...outside appearance was simply not connected to the heart. Wasn't there a lesson about that in the Bible, somewhere?
Something about King David. He shook his head. He had not managed to read the text in some time. But then, laity never got to, they had to rely on sermons. Tuck had even given a couple to the outlaws...from which Clorinda was always noticeable by her absence. Will, too, seldom attended. Out of respect for her or his own feelings? Tuck found it hard to care.
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It had taken him a little while to really grasp that he was afraid of the Blue Lady. He was afraid that she would turn out to be something that might damage his soul. A demon? He did not think so. He would have thought he would have known a servant of Satan when he saw one. Or would he?
A fairy? Some said they were servants of Satan. Most agreed they were dangerous. That one did not want to catch their eye. The greatest danger was for a man who attracted the eye of a lady of the Sidhe.
However, that did not seem to be happening here. Robin had seen her, and he was dedicated to his lover; and despite his talk about his grief for his wife, Tuck suspected he had little interest in bedding women. Clorinda had seen her. Tuck had seen her. The pattern was obvious. The Blue Lady was being seen only by those who would not want to sleep with her.
She was not, therefore, a fae lady after a night in the hay with a mortal man. A night in the hay that could be a hundred years for the mortal concerned. And if things were reversed, it was rumored, strange children could be born. Half-mortal, half-fae. In some versions of the old legend, Merlin was such. In others he was sired by a demon.
Not much difference, perhaps. Yet, the Blue Lady...definitely preferred those who would not be tempted by her beauty. That pointed towards...something. Perhaps she was a goddess in truth, and not the one Clorinda thought. "What do you want?" he asked the air. If she was the Virgin, surely, she would hear him.
Whether she did or not, she offered no response. Not even the scent of her presence. As if her attention was simply elsewhere.
Which was again evidence that she was fae, not divine. But if so, what did she want? Perhaps these woods were her kingdom?
None of it made sense. He focused his mind, trying to pray, but it eluded him. There was no sense of the presence of God, either.
Which implied that the failing was in him. Perhaps he needed to fast for a couple of days, to cleanse himself. Perhaps he had drunk too much stout the night before. Too much alcohol could dull the senses, after all. Maybe he should stick to smallbeer for a few days, or the fresh water of the forest.
Or maybe it was the niggling demon Doubt, flowing through his mind. The fear that the old gods were not just real, but potentially benevolent. That the church was, quite simply, wrong. He did not want to accept that, even as the most remote of possibilities. It went beyond heresy, beyond even blasphemy.
Believing it even for a moment could cause him to spend thousands of years in Purgatory. Accepting it would condemn him to Hell. He knew these things, deep in his self, in his mind. He accepted and embraced them, and thus his fear.
If they were wrong, but they were not wrong. They could not be wrong. He slumped to the ground, his back against a tree, his eyes closed. It might look as if he had fallen down drunk...early in the morning, even. If anyone saw him, they would mock.
How could he reconcile everything he had been taught? Robin's answer was the simple one. Assume it was Mary. Believe it was Mary. Convince himself it was Mary. Unless she told him who she was, he could not prove it. He should not be contained within this raging river of doubt.
He opened his eyes. There was a light in front of them, a small glow. A small fairy, a lesser one, and this time he saw it clearly. It more resembled a glow with wings or a large insect than a winged woman. The wings were, it seemed, the most significant part of the being. "Hello."
No response. The fairy hovered in front of him, her glow dimming a little until, indeed, she seemed like a small girl with wings. Girl, not woman, her breasts tiny and her hips narrow. She looked barely ripe, not yet marriageable.
And she was silent. She was simply looking at him as if not quite sure what to do about this large intruder. "Hello?" he tried again.
Then, he just heard a glass like sound and she zipped off. He decided, after a moment, it was laughter.
Perhaps he was right in his first guess. That this was a magic place, a fae place. A place where Oberon and Titania might take a moonlight ride. Whatever the Blue Lady was, he was almost sure she was not a demon.
He wanted to find a church, or a cloister. To hide in it until he no longer felt threatened, until he no longer felt uncertain.
It was a very long time before he got up, and when he did, he was in no hurry to return to camp. He was in no hurry, in fact, to go anywhere. There was no more sign of the fairy, or of the Blue Lady, or of...anything. The only person he could think of to talk to was Richard, and Richard owned different