The Friar's Tale, стр. 43
The guards were closing on them. Roughly, Tuck grabbed her shoulder. "Come on. We have to get out of here."
Counting the half-trained levy, they were grossly outnumbered. Their best hope was that they would not have to count those men and boys, who might well cheer on somebody attacking this place.
He thought of the dragon...he thought of how the clouds had lightened, then he thought of the fire. No, it had not been a dragon.
The guards had started it, and now they sent arrows after the fleeing outlaws. He heard a yelp as somebody was hit, but a quick glance showed they had not gone down. If they were lucky, it was a flesh wound.
Most of those shooting were about as accurate as children at a fair, attempting to win some prize from a makeshift range. Tuck got to the trees, out of breath.
He glanced at Clorinda.
"If you'd warned us sooner."
"I didn't know. But I think the Blue Lady warned me."
"Not in time. Not in sarding time." She spat it at him, although he could tell from the way her eyes avoided his that her anger was not aimed at him.
Stunned as much by the words that had crossed her lips than by her fury, he could only stand there for a moment. Then follow the others, his head bowed a little.
They fled into the night.
Robin sat by the fire. He was securing a stolen arrowhead to a shaft. "Fire. Who would have thought they would..."
Tuck shook his head. "It could have been a coincidental accident." Or it could have been something worse. Something nasty and dark.
Did he really believe in the Devil? He was, of course, supposed to. That was one of the rules of being a friar. You believed in the Devil, and you believed in your own power over him.
Tuck was not sure he had any power over the Devil. How could he? He was only one man of distinctly uncertain faith.
"Perhaps."
"It was their own building, and much of their gear would have been destroyed. I wouldn't imagine they set fire to it on purpose, and they weren't in a position that would..."
"You're right. They weren't smoking us out." Robin frowned. "I don't like this."
"Neither do I." Alan had not received Last Rites or even a proper burial. His soul would wander. Yet, there was nothing Tuck could do about that.
Nothing whatsoever. He felt utterly powerless, and still confused. The warning had come too late. Did that indicate the Blue Lady...well. She was not God. She was not omniscient. She could not reveal what she had not seen.
So, he spoke again, "I think there was a demon."
Robin's entire body tensed. "Where?"
"In the trees. Off to the side. I don't know." Tuck rubbed his temples. "It could have been a hallucination or something fay. I don't know." He had the kind of headache that could be temporarily driven aside by ale, but for which he knew no true cure.
He did not want to be here right now. He almost wished he had stayed in the Holy Land. Yet, he knew, there were demons there, too. Most of them in the guise of good Christian men.
Demons. Had unseen demons whispered in Crusader ears? If so, why had he seen that one, and not those? Unless, perhaps, it had wanted to be seen. Had intended to scare him a little.
He shook his head. "I'm starting to think I'm going completely off."
"You're not insane, Brother."
"Maybe we all are. Maybe the world is. You haven't seen all of it."
"I've seen enough," Robin said, grimly, picking up another arrowhead. "I've seen people starve to fund these blasted crusades. I've seen children go off on pilgrimage, never to return. I've seen Churchmen wear silk under their robes."
"I've seen entirely too much of that last." Tuck tugged at his own habit, plain and scratchy as it should be. "Silk under their robes and women under their desks."
Robin laughed. "Or, sometimes, boys under their desks."
"Altar boys," Tuck noted. "I've heard of that happening, too. All too often." And such boys, unlike the mistresses, were likely to be scarred by it. Physically and mentally and spiritually. Boys afraid to ever enter the confession booth.
Of course, that was one of the reasons there was a wall between priest and parishioner. To prevent untoward happenings. It did not entirely work, and some small churches had only a sliding screen.
"Sometimes. At least the women probably know what they're getting into."
Had Robin been one of those boys, and developed a taste for it? Or was there something deeper involved here.
"Women can do the strangest things. But when they need a man, why not take a wealthy one, even if he can't technically marry you?" And how many of them were married, illegally?
"Good point." Robin brushed back some stray hair. It did tend to fall over his face. He studied Tuck. "And what about you? What do you do about your needs and desires?"
"I don't know. I've never had a problem with celibacy."
"Perhaps you're one of the few men suited to it, then." Robin considered him. "Some people seem..."
"Some people don't have needs and desires. God made us, perhaps, to serve Him." Tuck considered it. "But most do, because God meant us to..." To multiply, but he realized he could not say that to one who loved another man, for it did imply what was between Robin and John was profane.
Tuck was no longer sure of that. He changed the subject.
"I'm going to do some kind of service for Hubert. We might not have a body, but we can do something." And then...what did they do then? Gisbourne had to be stopped, but Gisbourne was probably already preparing for departure in the yard of the Pilgrim. It would be easy enough to find out, of course, whether he had yet left.
Whether he had... Tuck shook his head. "It's unholy