The Friar's Tale, стр. 70

He murmured the Prayer of St. Francis under his breath. He was not just praying it but appreciating it. Enjoying and contemplating every word. The man had had as much of a way with words as Will. Directed in another way, of course, but most definitely there.

The door opened. Two priests. Hereward was one of them. The other had a hooded cloak over his priestly robes, his face hidden.

"Come. We have been authorized to take you to receive mass in the chapel." An honor, Tuck thought. It could also be something else.

The sheriff might have decided to get rid of the problem, Tuck knew, by arranging for him to be killed while trying to escape. He followed the two out. The guards looped rope around his wrists, tight enough for him not to have much chance if he did try to run.

He could not get out of this without help. There was the faint smell of blood from somewhere nearby. It might have been an animal, or somebody injured during a spar, but there was something about it that made him shudder.

Perhaps it was simply their situation. Him, the two priests, four guards surrounding the group.

Then there were three guards. An arrow in the throat of one, and he saw the feathering on it. Lincoln green.

Robin! He turned, but Hereward grabbed his arm. Then cut the bonds with a knife as the other guards fell. "Let's go."

Hereward had just sacrificed everything for him. The thought caused his breath to catch in his throat.

Then the other priest, who had not spoken, threw back his hood. It was Much. The man grinned at him, then produced a long knife from under his robes as they ran for the gate.

Nobody on the other side fired. A few arrows did streak across the courtyard, but they were aimed at nothing in particular. Covering fire.

They reached the gates and were outside.

Outside...and there was a small army there. At its head rode the sheriff.

"Ah. Good. Our bait brought the entire herd."

Tuck's heart went cold in his chest. There were enough men here...and where had he found them...to take the entire band. If they did not vanish quickly.

He was about to be killed. He knew that for sure and certain. So was Hereward...and that was his fault. His entire life did not so much flash before his eyes as fall around him like leaves.

It was over.

The sheriff had his blade lowered more or less to Tuck's eyes. He was on horseback and that might well be as low as he could reach.

The friar stood there. He knew he could not escape, he could not move fast enough. He had no staff.

Then Robin, stepping out of the trees. "Let the rest go and I will come with you willingly."

He no longer, in this moment, looked like a boy.

"So they can break you out later? I don't think so." The sheriff looked down at him.

He had his bow, but no arrow nocked. He could still use it as a weapon easily enough. The look on his face was a little grimmer than his usual air of merry amusement.

Tuck let out the breath he did not realize he had been holding. His hands were free. Did he really need a weapon?

He was the hostage here. If he could pull back, Robin certainly could, and they could run. Except that these were not levy troops.

These were hard bitten soldiers with exceptional gear. Mercenaries. The sheriff was hiring mercenaries. With whose coin? Tuck wondered, bitterly.

It felt as if the world was about to end. The sheriff was a large target, but if he went down, then Tuck, Hereward and Much would all die very quickly. There were simply too many of these men to take down in one volley.

Too many. Perhaps that could be used against them.

"So, you want to make a fight of it? How many of these men are you prepared to sacrifice, Sheriff? What about your own life?"

The sheriff dismounted, dropping his blade to Tuck's throat. "I think that unless your men shoot me in the eye, your beloved Brother will die with me."

Tuck almost wished they would do it. It would not take long and then he would have no fears or worries for anything except the state of his soul.

Some of them might indeed be able to kill the sheriff before he could move, but none seemed willing to take the risk.

Tuck knew what they should do. Fade back into the trees, leave him to them. He also knew they would not.

Robin stood there. For a moment, he seemed no more than a boy again. A slender, almost feminine figure. The charisma that caused men and women to fight and die for him had faded. It had become nothing more than prettiness.

Then...there was a sound from the hay barn. A sound Tuck knew. Sometimes, if one tossed fire into a hay barn, it would cause a massive explosion.

A moment later, he felt it. The sheriff's horse spooked, tore the reins from the man's hands and bolted into the woods. The shockwave was not enough to knock Tuck over, but it staggered him a little. Anyone closer to the explosion would not be hearing anything for a while.

Somebody had shot a fire arrow into the barn, perhaps intending to cause a distraction. They had got more than they bargained for. Tuck was honestly trying not to laugh at this point. But what he actually had to do was run.

Quickly. Hereward was just behind him. Then the priest was no longer behind him. Tuck did not look back, but the soft sigh he had heard said it all. Somebody had shot the man in the back, and they had done a good job of it.

Hereward was dead or dying, and it was his fault.