The Friar's Tale, стр. 83

fall to his sides. He had no weapons, but he could probably, at that range, kill John before they were all shot down. He did not move. "I don't claim to know anything about governance. What I know is the people."

He glanced around, then focused his attention to the prince. Then, deliberately, he dropped to one knee.

Tuck had never seen Robin kneel to anyone. He could not help but follow suit.

"What I know, Your Highness, is simple. I know that England is broke. I know that we can't afford to keep sending men and materiel overseas. I know because I see who is really paying the burden. It isn't you. It isn't Salisbury. It isn't the likes of Gisbourne and Wallace."

The hair rose on Tuck's neck. He knew that man was here, and had heard his name spoken in such an unflattering manner. His presence was very real.

And then he was striding towards the prince. No bodyguards for him.

"So, I see you are letting the outlaws talk. Why, your Highness, have they not yet been sent to Tyburn?"

"Because I am not done." John turned to face the man. "Why are you here?"

"To stop you from making a bad mistake. These men are pagans."

One of John's eyebrows arched. "Pagans?"

Tuck actually rolled his eyes. He could not help himself. It was all he could do not to speak, but he sensed that if he did... Besides. At some levels it was true.

"Goddess worshippers. The woman, at least, is a witch. Likely the supposed friar, too."

Tuck almost laughed.

"Is this true?" John half turned back towards Robin.

"The only Lady I honor is the Mother of our Lord," Robin said, carefully. "I believe this man may have mistaken my devotions to her for certain heresies."

Mistaken? Tuck knew that Robin followed those same heresies, but phrased as it was, it meant John had to turn it into an allegation.

"And your woman?"

"Some men will call any woman who does not cling to her stove a witch, your Highness."

"Indeed they will."

Tuck could see the look on Wallace's face. It was not yet the look of a defeated man, but definitely that of a frustrated one.

"I would appreciate it, thief, if you would finish."

"Men are being taken to the Crusades, leaving only women and children to handle the harvest. When it is not enough, the tax men take their food and even their seed grain. If we do not bring the soldiers back, there will be more deaths. And more violence." Robin's words were simply a statement of fact. Not impassioned, not emotional.

Almost as if he was giving a report.

"And what would you do about it?"

"Bring them back. End the levies. Give the people seed grain from the granaries."

It sounded so simple.

"And if Richard will not allow me to do so?"

"He's your brother."

That hung in the air, but those words did not come from Robin. They came from Salisbury, stepping up behind the prince, around the guards.

"And yours."

"But I did not share the same mother's milk."

John's lips quirked. "Neither did I. Do you think the queen would have damaged her figure with suckling? But your point is taken, brother. Still. He will not return. Am I to lie to him?"

The obvious answer was yes. But Tuck was keeping his eyes on Wallace. Who was now walking towards him.

Would the guards do something if he decided to attack? Tuck tensed. He was in a good position to stick some part of his body out and trip the man but elected not to. It would only cause him trouble.

All this man caused was trouble, Tuck thought, wryly. All he had caused Tuck, certainly.

Wallace stopped, then whispered to him. "She cannot help you. John will end this, because his brother will never forgive him if he lets any of you go."

"I escaped from you." Tuck looked towards the man. "Whatever force you serve has no power."

"And if I say it is God I serve?"

"Then I would know you to be a liar." Of course, he wondered who truly served God, in this time. Not most of the Churchmen he knew. The peasants? They worried about the survival of their bodies, not the health of their souls. The Crusaders? It was gold that shone in their eyes, not the cross.

The heretics were doing a better job.

"Would you?"

He walked away. Tuck prayed, focusing his thoughts on the image of Christ on the cross. The ultimate sacrifice and the ultimate redemption.

The Blue Lady impinged on his consciousness. Well. If she was Mary, she belonged there. If not...then he was already lost. Already doomed. He opened his eyes.

Salisbury was talking to Wallace quietly. He could not hear even the smallest snatches of their conversation, such as it was. Then the man started to turn on his heel. Started to.

Tuck remembered the demon outside the granary. In the corner of his eye, he saw another such creature.

It was heading towards the Prince. He stood, rising and turning towards it. For once, he did not care exactly who saw him acting so oddly.

He had blocked an arrow. Now he moved to put himself in the creature's path.

Wallace hit him. The blow hit his face, snapped his head to one side. "Get back in your place, scum."

With John gone, Salisbury would be regent. With them both gone, the only candidate was the princess Eleanor.

The demon was launching itself at the prince. Tuck spun, and with one quick shove thrust Wallace into its path.

It was an action born out of reflex, not thought. Yet, it was abruptly clear. Prince John could see the creature, his eyes widening as it struck Wallace's form, knocked him to the ground and then tried to leap again. Tuck launched himself, but contact with it was cold. So cold. "In the name of Christ I command thee, return whence you came and trouble us no more!" he found himself exclaiming.

And...the demon was gone. How could it have worked when he doubted his faith so much?

"I do not think we have any heretics here," the Prince