The Friar's Tale, стр. 33

The road, for now, was obscured. Deep fog...not quite the pea soupers common in this valley...but deep enough that it made his passage harder than it needed to be. He followed the road by the feel of it under his sandaled feet, not by vision. A desultory bird attempted to sing, the fog muffling the sound. After a couple of stanzas, it gave up and fell silent. At least this early the midges would not yet be flying.

Now there was a reason not to live out in the greenwood. At least not anywhere close to a lake or a slow river. Between the midges and the mosquitoes...

South and west he began to bend his feet. He heard the sounds of a carriage and stepped aside. Emerging through the fog, pulled by two good bays, with outriders on black palfreys. It was clearly the carriage of somebody rich. Inhabitant, driver and riders alike ignored him.

The part of his brain that had spent entirely too much time with the outlaws made note of how lax they were. They were all but asking to be robbed, he thought. Possibly, too, it was some lady inside. Who could be ransomed.

He had to get out of here...but then the outrider saw him. Their eyes met. Gisbourne had been cruel. This man was so cold Tuck wondered if he even had a soul. Or if he had already sold it to the Devil.

Not that he had ever met or directly heard of anyone who really had. It was one of those things that, for him, hovered between reality and myth. To deny the existence of the Devil was one step away from the ultimate heresy.

"You will come with us."

"I am a brother of the Church," Tuck said, softly. Technically, secular authority had no power over him. In reality, of course, he had to be careful.

"Screw the Church." The man drew his sword, lowered it towards Tuck's throat. The horse spooked a little.

Tuck considered his options. He had nobody he could directly protest to, and the outrider had him at a disadvantage of height. By the time he got his staff up... No, he was being abducted, but there was little he could do about it.

Little, possibly nothing. He followed after the rider, one hand on his staff. Could he fight? Yes, if there were fewer of them. He watched for an opportunity for escape, but he saw none.

This was not Gisbourne's territory, not any more, so it was not that lord, realizing this was the same friar who had caused all the trouble. Unless word had spread. It might have. He had heard of a 'friar' with Robin. Perhaps this guy was pulling in every friar he found for questioning.

If so, he could probably escape this by playing stupid. It was often a good technique when dealing with the truly evil.

Which was what he sensed here. Gisbourne was selfish and unpleasant. Whoever these men were, they were evil. The same kind of evil that had led them to sack that village. When he had turned and fled back to England.

The evil had followed him. The castle to which he was led was a small one. Not designed to deal with anything more than peasants trying to rob the storehouse. Perhaps to take back what they needed to survive.

Tuck forced the anger down. Play stupid. It was his best chance of walking out of here. If it was not too late.

They pushed him through the castle gates. He glanced around. There were some good horses...better than he could steal for the simple reason that he was no kind of a rider. He knew men who could. He wished they were here. He also missed the mule, whom he had left with the outlaws.

He would have been glad to know they knew he was in trouble. He would even have been glad to see or sense the Blue Lady. She could help him.

No. He had to place his trust in God and his Son to get him out of this one. Not in any goddess, whoever she might be, or Fae lady, or...

He was pushed into a tower, up some stairs and into a windowless room. It reminded him of where Clorinda had been held.

The door was locked behind him. He took stock of his surroundings. Whoever this lord was, he was taking a great risk arresting churchmen, without even bothering to voice a charge. Unless he was not even going to try...Tuck would likely just disappear. He was only still alive because this man wanted something.

Perhaps only to scare him, to exert some authority over the Church. He would be far from the first secular power to attempt to do so. The Church was feared...for it alone had power over men's souls.

Or did it? Tuck paced the cell, seeing no immediate means of escape. He sat down on the narrow bunk and attempted to pray.

It was a larger and more spacious cell than he had had as a novice in the friary, more comfortable than many places he had spent the night. Were it not for the locked door. God could open doors. He truly believed that. Not that he expected God to walk up to the door and unlock it.

No. He worked more subtly than that, he was as a thief in the night. Part of Tuck hoped to see a literal thief, but there was no way Robin could know about his plight.

Had he not left...well, no. He could not have predicted this, he could not have second guessed it. He was, besides that, still alive. Which meant he could escape. He knew far more of such things than a friar would be expected to know.

He assumed he would be fed at some point. When he was not, he curled up on the bunk and slept.

He supposed it was morning when he awoke. With no windows, not even arrow slits, he could not tell. Nor could he be sure