The Friar's Tale, стр. 82

fell to the ground. It was a moment of almost anti-climax. That the man was dead, he was sure of.

Sure and certain. As the blood pooled around the fallen form, he felt an odd sense of emptiness.

"I am not sure quite what I am going to do with you."

Tuck sat on the chair rather gingerly. Salisbury's sword had cut a deep gash in his side and damaged a couple of his ribs. Not intentionally. He did not say anything. He was not sure what there was to say. Any word he spoke might somehow be used against him.

"Why did you bother?"

"Because Gisbourne intended to frame us for your death and then kill all of us. Neat and tidy."

"What does he have against me?"

Tuck sighed. "I don't know." He almost felt as if he was on the edge of becoming the earl's confessor. Or something. He also knew he was still in mortal danger.

Or was he?

"You saved my life. However, you are also an outlaw."

Tuck was no longer denying it. "And if nothing else, we staged a jailbreak."

"That woman. God, that woman. If we weren't both already married."

Tuck laughed. "I don't think Clorinda would be satisfied as your mistress."

"God knows I could use one." A pause. "I don't suppose you would understand. Or maybe you would."

"Your wife..."

"You met her."

Tuck's eyebrows both almost reached his tonsure. "The little girl." He knew such happened. A political match, finalized legally years before it could be consummated. And a man like this could not seek release in the bishop's brothels. Except perhaps very carefully, in disguise.

"Blame my father. I sometimes think it's punishment for...you know the problems he had with his children."

And only the Pope could release the man from this chaste marriage. From the fact that he would be forced to bed her as soon as the midwives said it was safe for her to be with child, never mind that she was so young, never mind that he had raised her as a daughter or sister. Tuck shuddered.

"And still problems with Richard," Salisbury continued. "Tell me, Friar. Do you have brothers? Of the flesh, that is."

"Three," Tuck admitted. "But I never had the kind of conflicts with them some men experience.

"You're lucky. Richard is a fool and John is...narrow minded. I have to talk to him, but I'm not sure how."

He was definitely being used as a confessor. "I don't think I can help."

"You, right now, are just my evidence. Part of it. Unfortunately, I don't know if I can earn you a pardon."

Tuck frowned. "If you do not, we will likely be hanged."

"That I won't allow. Exiled, at worst. I promise."

An earl's promise, but what did it mean? And exiled...would be as bad as death for some. For Reginald, certainly. For Clorinda. Likely for Will. Tuck could live in an alien land. He could even go to Assissi.

But never to walk the greenwood again was harsh. On the other hand. Exile was preferable to some lengthy imprisonment. "What I care about the most is that something is done about the situation that gives us Gisbournes."

"And Wallaces...that is your other 'friend'." Salisbury frowned. "I've heard rumors about him. Rumors enough, if they are true, to earn him a stint in the tower at the very least. If I could get anyone to care."

"Rumors?"

"He likes his serving wenches young. Very young."

Tuck shuddered. "I'm glad to be out of all that."

"Don't tell me you keep your vows?"

"I've never had any inclination otherwise."

"You mean you've traveled with Clorinda for two years and not wanted to..." The man was astonished.

Tuck laughed. "She carries knives. So does her husband." He tried to make it clear which one of the two he feared the most.

Salisbury laughed. "Maybe I'll try and find a way to keep you."

"Likely the church will not permit me to remain a Brother."

"And? I still want to keep you."

Tuck actually felt warmed by that, and emboldened. "As what? A bodyguard?"

"Maybe."

Then the door opened. "Your Grace. It's time."

"I have to go. You will stay put, I trust."

"I don't like root cellars."

Salisbury laughed again, and then departed.

34

Robin looked surprisingly relaxed and comfortable. Tuck...did not share that feeling.

For one thing, they were in the courtyard of the Palace of St. James. For another, they were under heavy armed guard.

Tuck had fresh clothing. He had even managed that rare thing, a bath. He had managed to get his tonsure trimmed, but he wondered if he would now be expected to grow it out.

They could not get between him and God. Only he, himself could do that.

A woman stepped, for a moment, out of the palace. She looked almost like the Blue Lady...or as if she, too, had been touched by her, but she seemed to see the gathering in the courtyard and flee. A sensible departure. The tension was pretty high.

Everyone knew these outlaws were dangerous even when unarmed.

Then the doors opened again.

Prince John was instantly recognizable. His features were fairly similar to those of his half-brother, but somewhat more aquiline. He was flanked by two bodyguards, both of whom showed a clear readiness to do for him what Tuck had done for Salisbury.

He walked towards Robin. "I don't know whether to have you executed or give you a medal."

Robin's lips quirked into his usual ready grin. Even in this situation, he had that odd security. It was faith, Tuck knew.

Faith in Mary. Trust in Her.

If the Blue Lady was her. Tuck just let a breath out. And he tried to force all of his doubt out with it. All of his fear. If Robin could face the end with equanimity, then so could he.

"So. Tell me. To what are you loyal, Robin of Sherwood?"

"Myself," he responded, lightly, "England."

"In that order, I suspect." John's lips quirked in a not dissimilar pattern. "An honest thief."

"I have not said I'm not a thief."

"An honest thief, a roguish friar, and a bunch of thugs. Yet, you claim to know something of the governance of England."

"No." Robin let his hands