The Friar's Tale, стр. 79

"I see you came back again," came Robin's voice. Quiet, dangerous. "That is how many trips to the Holy Land?"

"It would be unwise to leave my lands long in the hands of a woman."

Clorinda looked like she was about to spit at him, but decided not to waste the effort. Tuck closed his eyes for a moment. With Gisbourne here, they were recognized. Will was the only one with any chance of getting to Prince John.

But Clorinda spoke again. "You are fully and completely mistaken. I am not the woman you seek. I am Lady Clorinda Locksley, and you think my husband is the Outlaw of Sherwood?"

Gisbourne stepped towards her and slapped her across the face. For a moment, she looked like she would hit back.

There were arrows trained on them all.

"When I talk to the prince, he will deal with you."

"The only person you're talking to is the executioner." Gisbourne lifted his hand to slap her again, but the jailer placed his own hand on the lord's sleeve.

"My lord. How do you know she is not who she claims to be?"

"Because I have seen her before, you idiot. She was not dressed as well, but it's the same woman, for sure. The same woman the Outlaw of Sherwood caused to vanish from my castle."

"And you think this man is the famous Robin Hood?" The jailer stepped towards Robin. "Pah. He barely comes up to my eyes."

Tuck still had his hood up. It was a reasonable assessment.

"He looks like a gelding or a mare." An insult that, yet in some ways true.

Tuck lifted his hand. He had not been bound, only disarmed...thoroughly, they'd taken his belt knife and the one he had had in his boot. But he was able to use his hand to hide his laughter.

All of those stories and legends...meant that Gisbourne would never be believed when he told people, truthfully, that this tiny, effeminate man was Robin Hood.

"Well, he is Robin. The tall one is his righthand man, John Little."

John, of course, was one of the most common of all names. Any flicker of reaction meant nothing.

"And I hear they call the friar Tuck. I suppose so that his mother house can't track him."

Tuck managed not to show a reaction. The jailer walked over and pushed back his hood, though, leaving him exposed. "A friar. A fat friar with a red face. You want me to believe this is the 'Friar Tuck' who is deadly with a staff?"

Red face? Tuck doubted his face was that red. He had not exactly had much ale today. But he was willing to take the insults.

"Believe it or not. These are the men. If you want to serve your country, you will lock them up very securely. In separate cells. I'd put Robin himself in the oubliette. See him break out of there."

Tuck shuddered a little. One did not put people in an oubliette one intended to release any time soon. Getting them out again was, after all, quite the logistical challenge requiring ropes.

Robin could probably still escape from one.

"You will have to excuse me, Lord Gisbourne. I would like to confirm their identity."

"I'm the Lord of Nottingham!" Gisbourne's face, most definitely, was red.

"You are in the Liberty of London. Your provincial title means nothing here. Don't worry. I don't plan on simply letting them go."

"Then at least take the precaution of separate cells." Gisbourne turned on his heel, stalking towards the entrance. His archers began to follow him.

The jailer walked up to Robin and looked him in the eye. "So. Are you Robin Hood, or Sir Robert Locksley? Or both, perhaps?"

Tuck realized he was holding his breath. He forced it out again.

"Or perhaps even neither. Perhaps a common thief. Well. We will straighten this out."

He did not, though, put them in separate cells. He herded them into one side of the common holding area. Except for Clorinda, who was dragged away literally kicking and screaming.

"Where are you taking her?"

"To a woman's cell. You would not want her shoved in with you men, surely."

Which meant she would probably be shoved in with the illegal prostitutes, have them eating out of her hands in seconds and stage a prison revolt that might get them all out of here. Tuck pinned some hope on that possibility. He pinned more hope on the Blue Lady. Had she influenced the jailer to see them as harmless?

Maybe. However, none of it got them closer to the prince. Or anyone who could talk to the prince. Gisbourne was on the outside spreading the truth about them. Tuck was...in a communal cell.

They had all been carefully searched, but he had seen Robin break locks without special tools before. He'd seen him do it with the tong of a belt buckle. Of course, they did have to worry about Clorinda.

Then a man came up to the outside of the cell. "Huh. You don't look the part."

Tuck shook his head. "That's because we're innocent."

"Everyone's innocent until they do something wrong. The first time is usually at about the age of two."

Whoever he was, Tuck felt an instant, strong liking for him. Which was almost embarrassing. The man was an enemy. "Good point, but we're innocent of the specific thing we're accused of."

Robin stood up, smoothly, moving over.

"So. Robert Locksley. A good choice, given there are no Locksleys left, even in the female line."

Tuck's heart dropped a few inches. The man, whoever he was, knew exactly who they were. "So, tell me. Why would the famous Outlaw of Sherwood and his most trusted men come to London in disguise? A little...risky."

The man was silhouetted against the light. Tuck realized he looked a lot like the king or the prince, but was younger and more slender.

"If I answered that, I would be acknowledging that I was him."

"Ah, yes. And then you would be hanged before dawn. Well, then." The man turned to leave. "In the morning."

Robin was frowning.

"Do you have any clue who that was?"

"From the color of his clothes