The Friar's Tale, стр. 80

and his face, I believe that may have been the Earl of Salisbury. Richard's bastard brother."

One of two acknowledged, Tuck recalled, the other, Geoffrey, having been given to the Church...a not uncommon disposition for royal bastards. "And why would such a personage come here to see us himself?"

"I do not know. But there is our line to the prince. If we can use it without earning ourselves a quick trip to the gallows."

Tuck nodded. "I should talk to him."

"Tuck..."

"They would have to go through a lot before they could simply hang me. I think I can convince him that Gisbourne recognized I, alone."

"It's risky."

"They're likely to hang us anyway. They clearly don't want to accept or acknowledge that they might be wrong." Tuck frowned. "Which would be very foolish."

"Yes, it would."

Tuck moved to a corner of the cell. Amazingly, he found he was quite able to sleep.

The next day, the jailers came and pulled Robin, Tuck and John out of the cell. "Come on, miscreants."

Tuck snorted. Of course, he might not see his friends again. Likely he was about to be handed over to Church custody. It was over.

The three were put in the same wagon, Tuck was sure, in which they had been brought to the jail. The horses, though, were different. He closed his eyes, feeling the rattle of it. Over.

But there was a part of him that thought it would be worth it if they could stop what brewed to the north. They could not, he knew, but maybe at least something could be done about Gisbourne.

He was dreaming. He opened his eyes as they pulled into a courtyard. A fine house, but not the palace itself.

"Get down. The earl wants to speak to the three of you."

And unlike Gisbourne, the earl had the respect of London. Tuck felt a slight hope at that.

He felt something else, too, as they were led into the house through the tradesmen's entrance. He saw, peeking out of the kitchen, a little girl who was clearly not a servant. Why she seemed familiar to him, he did not know.

No. He knew. The Blue Lady was here, watching over that child. Whatever she wanted, whoever she was, that child was important to her.

Into a sort of hall-like room. The earl stood there. "You three are three of the four ringleaders. They won't turn the woman over to me."

Tuck frowned. Clorinda. Well. With luck, she would escape. Perhaps she already had, and that was why they would not turn her over. Perhaps they were refusing to admit they had lost her.

"I know who you are, and there's no sense arguing. Tell me why you are here."

Robin spoke, softly. He knew all was lost, but he also knew, no doubt, that this was his one chance. "The Midlands seethe on the edge of revolt. The peasants starve whilst their men are taken for the levy and their food is taken in tax. Richard will not return, and half the lords are with him. Those left behind don't care."

"You don't speak of Gisbourne."

"That's personal."

Tuck listened in silence. He glanced over at the little girl. He wondered who she was. Who she would be. He supposed she was probably Salisbury's daughter.

"At least you admit it. I am trying to get the woman away from him."

Tuck smiled a little. But then he spoke. "Gisbourne is a problem. So is one whose name I don't know. He was at the jail last night."

"Unfortunately, I don't know who you're talking about. What did he do?"

"Tried to have me flogged...simply on virtue of me being a friar, and threw the Church from his lands."

"Well, he has sacrificed his soul, then, but..."

"He's dangerous." Tuck glanced at Robin for a moment, then back towards the Earl. "Gisbourne is simply a fool. The sheriff...is also dangerous."

"I have heard about that one. He hungers for power." The Earl frowned. "I think it would suit that one if Gisbourne were not to return from his next trip overseas."

"Or be killed by a bunch of rebelling peasants." Tuck wondered how much of the oppression was, in any way, Gisbourne's idea...what if the sheriff was provoking it.

"Indeed. How bad is it?"

Little John had dropped to one knee, so he was on the level of the girl...she was nine, and normally would not need that treatment. She was staying back, though.

It was Robin who spoke, sighing a little and reaching up to run a hand through his blond hair. "Bad. People can't feed themselves. They can't feed their animals. Gisbourne was hung in effigy last year. There have been a lot of arrests. He's now taken to burning villages."

The earl nodded. Slowly. "And thus, you risked yourself to try and get to the crown. What do you expect the prince to do?"

"Maybe his job." Robin let out a long, slow breath. "That's not quite fair. He's as stuck as anyone else."

"Our brother is determined not to return. I have often thought if he dislikes England this much..." He tailed off, as if remembering who he was talking to.

"He could, at the very least, censure Gisbourne. Let it be known that the crown does not approve." Robin frowned. He knew he'd thrown everything away on a fool's venture.

The look Tuck shot him tried to include everything. John, as always in these situations, remained silent.

"The Church is not helping...well, not helping the people. What these people need is food. Nothing else, at this point, matters." Clorinda might have said something impassioned about freedom. "The countryside is starving. Things don't seem to be much better here. If the tax was rescinded for even a year, they would have a chance."

Except that Gisbourne would not cooperate. Unless, of course, he was given something else to think about.

"Richard would not allow it."

"Richard," Tuck said boldly, "is not here. Prince John is here, and has powers of regency."

"But not full ones."

"Well, maybe if he did something Richard didn't like, it might actually get him to come back and open his eyes." Not