The Friar's Tale, стр. 39

Alan took him down a narrow path, then across a stream, then up the other side, and into a clearing. Familiar smells overtook him.

"Tuck?" That was Robin's voice.

"I..." He had nothing to say, he realized, to the friend he had so betrayed. Nothing at all to say to him. His voice faded out, not responding to his thoughts.

"For Mary's sake, man. Where have you been?"

"I needed space. Needed time." He wasn't going to reveal his doubts. Not with the entire camp staring at him. He saw no sign of Richard, but did see two boys, one no more than twelve, whom he did not recognize.

"Richard is gone."

That hit him in a wave. Not that the old druid would have sought Last Rites, but at the same time. At the same time. "I'm back. But only if you want me to be."

"You should not have left."

He knew that. He knew it in his heart and soul. But he had. "I had to. Look. What happened to Richard?"

Robin turned along the edge of the clearing, beckoning him to follow. "Simple old age, as far as we can tell. He just did not wake up one morning."

"That beats most alternatives." Tuck's training wanted to say that Richard was in hell. His personality, his mind, wanted to say that could not have truly been allowed to happen to so good a man. It was a quite disturbing thought, really. More than he would and could have imagined before now. He did not want to consign Richard, even mentally, to the fires of hell.

"Indeed. But he was asking after you, only a couple of days before."

Tuck frowned. "I..." A pause. "The Blue Lady."

"Mary."

"Are you sure of that?" He turned his head towards the slender young man. In some ways, Robin was prettier than Clorinda. Had that been how his unnatural desires had started? Those who felt them often went for pretty boys.

"Yes." Robin turned to face him. "But you are not. Clorinda thinks she is Aine."

"I do not know. I only know that she got me out of prison, and..." Tuck tailed off. His strength, in its entirety, had faded. He was not sure what to believe any more. "My faith has been weakened."

"Or tested." Robin shook his head. "I respect Clorinda. But I do not believe she is...can be...correct. Even if the old gods exist, they cannot touch those who have been washed in the blood of Christ."

"The friar takes lesson from the outlaw." Tuck allowed amusement into his voice. It was amusing, if one did not take it too seriously. If one allowed understanding of the fact that this time he needed it.

"Better than from the bishop in his sumptuous robes."

"Point. Although I did find...there is one good person of the church in Nottingham." He laughed. "The abbess of the poor Clares."

Robin laughed. "Of course there is. The one with no temporal power. So. What happened?"

"I intended to go to Glastonbury. I thought I might regain some strength there, but I did not go far." He related the story of the friar-hating lord carefully. He knew how to give a spy's account, and thus he did.

Robin listened, silent, the only sound other than Tuck's voice being that of an argument between two squirrels. Finally, he spoke, "Something needs to be done about this man."

The tension had already faded. It was Clorinda who made the first overtures, sitting next to him at breakfast. They talked long about Richard.

Tuck could not...he could feel his faith shattering, breaking, spreading into tiny pieces. What Robin had said had helped a little. Yet, only a little. He could not reconcile his beliefs with Richard's...basically decent nature. Sure, he had been obnoxious, but that was a crime worthy only of a stay in Purgatory. Not Hell.

He could not imagine Clorinda suffering such a fate either, for all that she insisted the Blue Lady was Aine and made libation to the old gods.

He could not...deal with the fact that people so close to him were damned by God. Thus, he walked away. Not far. He did not intend to leave again.

He simply did not know what to do. For the first time in his life, he wished he had been born a woman. No, not quite. He wished he had chosen a contemplative, cloistered order, where he would never be exposed to the tests and temptations of the world. Where he would spend his time in silence and in prayer.

Yet, he had chosen this, out of the limited array made available to him. He could not go back and have his life again.

He could not even go back and undo the time they had ambushed him, stolen his ale and asked him to do last rites. He should have left as soon as he had completed them.

Now. Now he was halfway to taking off his habit. The Church would do it for him if they found out he was even contemplating that they were wrong. No. He knew what his old novice master would have done...locked him in a cell for a few days. But he had tried that. Being alone with his thoughts did not help.

Perhaps if he went to the nearest village and listened to Mass it might help. Perhaps the sonorous rhythms of a ritual that went back to Rome could guide him. Or perhaps it was time to take the bull by the horns.

Perhaps it was time to face her. He frowned, shaking his head. And if she was not the Virgin? If she was not... Robin believed she was, believed it with the simplicity of one who did not know his Latin.

Because it made the most sense to him.

Tuck did still wonder if she was not merely some dignitary of the Sidhe. Finally, he spoke to the air. "Who are you?"

He got no answer.

"Look. You're driving me crazy."

The only answer was ringing laughter, he turned his head. The pixie was back, flickering into his vision, and then out