The Friar's Tale, стр. 9
Almost too easy. If he was not sure and certain Robin was not a disguised woman...and certainly no woman would be the size of John...he would have thought them lovers. Perhaps they were anyway. A terrible sin in the eyes of the Church.
He was not going to ask. What he did not know about he would not have to preach against, and really, he was not sure he would bother. It certainly did less harm than robbing merchants...or abbots.
"John. Tuck." Robin approached them, his eyes flicking between the two. Then, softly, "Tuck, I would speak with you."
Tuck nodded. "Privately?"
"Yes."
John bent down and, to Tuck's shock, kissed the smaller man before withdrawing. It was not the kiss of friend or brother, but the kiss of a lover. Tuck blinked. Yes, a terrible sin in the eyes of the Church and one he should speak against, but he found he could not.
Instead, he followed Robin into the woods, to the nearby stream. Maybe he wanted to confess. Maybe he had something else in mind.
He crouched by the stream, glancing across it at the fairy ring. "Do you think they really use those as their gateways to our world?"
"I don't know. I'd rather not risk it."
"I have seen them," Robin said, softly. "And they are not what men think, or what men show in the May plays."
"I would imagine not. You still believe in God."
"I see no conflict between them and God, and I practice no magic." Robin paused for a moment. "But that was not what I wanted to talk about."
No. He had simply wanted to mention it, to gauge Tuck's reaction. Robin himself might not practice magic, but Tuck could definitely envision him visiting a witch.
Not Tuck's problem. Not unless he confessed it and had to be given penance. "What is it you need?"
"I need information. There is a village nearby named Cotman. I am known there...if I walk into the tavern, jaws will lock. They are too afraid of the sheriff and his men to speak to me. However, a somewhat drunken friar..."
Tuck nodded. "You wish me to spy for you?"
"Not spy. I don't want anyone's private secrets. Just the lay of the land."
"I'd need money." He could not go into a tavern and not buy himself ale or food. This was also a test. The perfect opportunity for him to flee these outlaws and move on. Robin wanted to know if he had a new man or just a companion of circumstances.
"You would get it."
"From the sale of the abbot's jewels, no doubt."
Robin laughed. "That set us up for a while. You do not seem to object."
"Chastity, obedience, poverty. I might be bad at poverty myself, but not that bad. And I hear Moresford isn't very good at chastity, either."
"Depends on your definition. I hear he married the woman."
Which was a violation of the vows, but in some ways a lesser one. After all, it was an acceptable vow to remain faithful to one's wife. "So, the lay of the land? Including the travels of any rich men."
"I have to steal to survive. I steal from those who can afford to lose it," Robin commented. "And from the king."
Meaning the venison that was even now cooking over the fire. "Money is of little use in the forest."
"True. I would also appreciate it if, while you are in the village, you would purchase bread and cheese."
Tuck nodded. "That I am more than willing to do. I should probably take the cart."
So he could carry more. So he could make a getaway. He was not even sure in his mind which it was.
Early the next morning, he set out. The cart was empty, but he had a list of things to purchase from the villagers. Bread, cheese, ale. Cloth and thread to mend clothes. If asked, he would say he was buying them for the poor. That it was an act of charity. Nobody would even look twice at that.
The village was not much. A few thatched roofs, a few rather desultory cows. He could see why Robin would not want to steal from these people.
No. He would give them good gold, which they could then spend on that which they could not make themselves. He hitched the mule by the green.
A couple of children were playing a game of tag across it. From their appearance, they seemed to be brothers.
Tuck wondered where they would be in a few years. Apprenticed, perhaps. Got rid of by some means, given some life that might not be to their choosing.
Nobody was free, he thought as he hitched the mule. He had more freedom than most, the vows that might under other circumstances have been a burden and a binding gave him the ability to go where he willed and do what he wished. Within reason.
But he was still not free. Kings were not free, peasants were not free. No man or woman could choose their own path.
It was odd that he even thought of it. Perhaps it was the influence of the outlaws, men who walked their own path and paid the price for it.
Would he go back to them? He would, he realized, because they had treated him well. How long he would stay with them was another matter. Until he felt the urge to move on. Maybe weeks, maybe years.
They, at least, would not invite him along on Crusade, and he a fool. A fool to go. All fools.
He forced his mood back to something more stable, and then looked around. There was no market today, but he saw a housewife making her way along the street, a small child attached to her skirts.
"Goodwife!" he called.
She turned. "Brother, what is it you seek?"
"When is the