The Friar's Tale, стр. 84
How many had seen? Had most of the men here been oblivious to the battle.
The Blue Lady was standing behind the Prince now. She was smiling at Tuck.
Why are you pleased? he asked her silently. I...
All gods are one God.
Those were the words that came into his mind. And then she was gone.
They rode north out of London. Tuck had been offered a horse, but preferred his ugly, familiar mule. Tucked under his robes was a royal pardon. The others had something more.
A commission from Prince John, to 'patrol the Greenwood and ensure the safety of travelers'.
Unspoken was the knowledge that they would not obey the Forest Laws...and would get away with it.
Gisbourne was dead, and ahead of them rode a royal messenger. His wife would not be permitted to be regent. Instead, a certain spice merchant would get control of the lands until Gisbourne's son was mature. Of course, said spice merchant had two daughters, the youngest of a very appropriate age. The sheriff was to be fired.
He would no doubt cause further trouble. And no doubt they had not seen the last of Wallace, for all that he had had the symptoms of a stroke. The symptoms of which John had been meant to die.
Tuck knew it was the Blue Lady who had made the demon visible to all present, but the power of God which had dismissed it.
All gods are one God. He shook his head, then he set it deep aside. Deep into the back of his mind.
Into that place where you put things of which you know you cannot speak. It was spring and the sun was coming out, dappling the ground beneath the trees.
Cannot speak. Yet, there would be something from this. Just those words, voiced in rare corners to those few who were ready to understand.
Then there was a messenger. Tuck heard his approach, slowed his mount. The lathered horse, as swift as the ones that had spoken of Richard's imprisonment. He rode past, stopping alongside Robin.
"Lord Locksley."
The final irony...John giving the outlaw who had helped save his life and possibly his kingdom the very fake title he had claimed.
"What is it?" Robin turned, but there was something in his eyes.
"The king is dead."
They reined to a halt. Tuck could see Robin's lips move, but for a moment no sound came out of them.
Then, very softly. "Long live King John. Did he die in the Holy Land?"
"Nay. He fell in battle in Aquitaine itself."
So close. Yet, the prophecy that had hovered in Tuck's mind was fulfilled. "King Richard never came back to England."
"No. He did not."
Robin turned his mount, turning its head towards London. "We must do homage to our new king."
And Tuck wondered, just wondered, if John had known when he had given titles not his to give...if he had already known, in that way of brothers, that he was in that moment the King of England.
Author’s Note
Author's Note
I'm from Nottingham. Or rather, near Nottingham. So, it's somewhat inevitable that at some point I would want to write a Robin Hood novel.
Robin Hood tends not to be as popular as King Arthur. My introduction to the legend was Tales of Robin Hood by Enid Blyton (who also did a companion King Arthur book for kids). It was also rolling my eyes when Robin Hood's arrow was stolen again from the statue of him below Nottingham Castle Rock.
Rolling them harder when the actual real life Sheriff of Nottingham (a mostly ceremonial position) was caught embezzling county funds, to much amusement from the local press.
But I've also walked in what remains of Sherwood Forest, visited the Major Oak, and been profoundly disappointed to find out that Robert Locksley, if he existed, was probably a Yorkshireman.
So, this book. First of all, Robin Hood himself struck me as too enigmatic a figure to be the narrator of the story. (I felt much the same way about King Arthur in The Lay of Lady Percival).
I wanted somebody who made sense to be the one telling the outlaws' story, somebody who wasn't quite, quite a Merry Man.
My authorial gaze fell upon Friar Tuck. Friar Tuck represented to me, the struggle to be good within a mostly-corrupt organization, which the Church very much was at the time. The fact that both of my parents held St. Francis as a patron saint and were involved in the lay part of the Franciscan movement sealed the deal: Friar Tuck would be my narrator.
I then made another major, major change after doing some research into how the legend evolved over time: The removal of Maid Marian as a character. There is indeed some evidence that "Maid Marian" was a reference to the Virgin Mary. The Marian Heresy is a very old one within the Church. If Marian is the only woman Robin truly loves, then the next two decisions flow naturally: 1. Robin is a Marian heretic and 2. Robin is gay. So, yeah, it's probably too obvious to pair him off with Little John, but I couldn't resist.
Because I didn't want to leave us without a major female character, I created Clorinda out of whole cloth. Her name is the name of Robin's lover from one of the French tales, but given the circumstances I paired her instead with Will Scarlet. And I'm well aware there's a bit of Smurfette Syndrome going on, but I'm hoping the minor female characters somewhat make up for it.
Then I started writing. And the words "He was never tempted to break his vows" came into my mind. Friar Tuck in the legend is fat (and I definitely kept that), good with a staff, overly fond of ale, but never shows any interest in breaking his vow of celibacy.
I went over it in my mind, and over it, and slowly came to the weird dawning revelation that without any conscious thought I'd decided/realized that Friar Tuck did indeed have no interest in