The Friar's Tale, стр. 65
Yet, he lived. He lived and was free. As free as a man could be. The king in his castle, no more free than the peasant in the fields.
As if reading his mind, Will moved into a ballad on that very subject. He gave it a sarcastic edge, though, that was no doubt Clorinda's influence.
All men could be equal, she had told them. Yet, that was not how...surely society could not be run that way? Surely humanity had to be ordered and striated for civilization to survive.
Each man in his place, each woman also. That was the way of things.
Then they heard hoof beats. Lots of them.
"We may be discovered."
Tuck rose to his feet, moving to his tent. He grabbed what he most needed. If all else failed, he could set the mule free. The beast would likely find him again. It was affectionate, in its own way. As much as, sometimes, it acted as if it hated him.
Well. That was not his problem. The tent was knocked down, kicked down.
"Leave the tents," Robin said. "Either they have found us, and already know we are here, or they have not. We can make more."
Tuck nodded and made his way to where the mule was tied, next to the two oxen they still had.
Reginald was behind him. He took the halters of the oxen.
"Let them go if they interfere with your escape," Tuck told him, reaching for his mule's halter.
The beast had his long ears both swiveled towards the approaching riders. No doubt he knew exactly how many horses were approaching. He was not happy about it.
He started to lead Brownie away, but he was ready to release his lead rein and chase him away, turn it into a red herring.
They would not hurt him. At worst, they would catch him and put him in their own stables. He was an ugly beast, but it was a strong and healthy one that would work for them.
So he felt no qualms about leaving Brownie behind. He could always steal him back later.
The horsemen swept into the hollow. He heard them waste precious time checking the tents...but there was nobody there.
"Fan out!" he heard.
He kept moving, quickly, keeping the mule between himself and them. They might see only the animal. Of course, they would still chase the beast, even if they thought he was on is own.
And here they came. He released the mule, slapping him on the rump, and then dived into the nearest cover.
Too late, he realized the nearest cover was composed mostly of stinging nettles. Fortunately, not many of the little pricks could reach bare skin as opposed to habit, but he had to stay there.
They were chasing the mule. "Stop. Its a loose beast. They must have let it free in hopes we would follow it. They went this way."
Tuck waited. And waited. He then saw his opportunity. Most of them rushed into the trees on foot, having secured their horses. One had lingered, apparently unsure the mule had really been alone.
He rose out of the vegetation like an avenging angel, pretty much staff first. The solid oak connected with the side of the man's head and he went down without even crying out.
Good. Solid. Tuck checked for a pulse...alive, but he would not be waking up any time soon. Rather than finish him in cold blood, he moved quietly towards their horses.
They had tied them to trees by the bridle reins. Poor horsemanship, and they deserved what happened next.
Tuck untied every single one of them and sent them scurrying after the mule. It would hopefully take them hours to catch them when they got back.
They would know it was enemy action but have no way of tracing who did it.
Then he moved after them. Which was easy. They crashed through the woods as he had once done, clearly having no practice moving quietly through the undergrowth.
Fools, he thought. And then realized that even if they captured anyone...
Except they were not here to capture. He knew that...they would have brought a wagon if so. They intended to kill anyone they came across, possibly asking questions later. If they happened to take out some innocent swineherd, so be it.
He was too far behind them to be of much help. He heard one surprised cry and saw a body fall. An arrow from good cover, no doubt.
Why was he even worried about these clowns? Because even incompetent people could get lucky. If they got lucky, then they would...
Then, just in time perhaps, it occurred to him. He moved to the side, vanishing into the trees. He had learned how to do that. Now he was not in the path of their retreat if they gave up and tried to go back to their horses.
And there they came, running from the outlaws. Tuck managed not to laugh at the thought of what they would find when they got to the clearing.
26
Robin led the way into York, Tuck three steps behind him.
They were further north than they normally went. York had something Nottingham lacked. Solid outer walls. From the look of them, they had been started in the Roman period and finished more recently, set upon banks. Gateguards waved them through without hesitation.
Tuck wore his habit, Robin was dressed as a peasant, carrying a staff that was, in reality, an unstrung bow. Nothing to see here.
"Why are we here?"
Robin just smiled. "Because the city fathers of York are nothing like Guy of Gisbourne. Watch. Learn."
He got like that sometimes. Tuck actually rolled his eyes. "Mary," he muttered.
Robin laughed a bit. "Exactly."
Tuck hoped he would hush. The city fathers might be decent people, but York had an archbishop. Not a place to even hint at heresy. Tuck stepped to one side to avoid slop being emptied from an upper story.
York was larger than Nottingham and more