BROTHER TUCK MAKES A PLAN
Three miles down river, where the rapids slowed to a gentle flow, a man in the long brown robes of a monk waded through the water to a fallen log wedged between some rocks. He had seen something that wasn't a branch.
He bent down to disentangle the body of a young man from the debris. Hoisting the limp figure over his shoulder, he carried him to a dry place in the woods beyond, and laid him down. He felt his neck and put his head down on the man's chest.
"Come on, Robin," he said, as he turned him on his side. "I haven't come all this way to have you die on me. Come on, breathe!"
He shook Robin gently, then more roughly. Suddenly, Robin sputtered and choked. Water gushed from his mouth, and he coughed.
"That's right, get it out. You can do this!"
Robin began to cough violently.
"Easy, easy!" said the man. "There, that's better. Open your eyes. Can you hear me?"
Robin's eyes fluttered open, and stared uncomprehendingly at the figure kneeling over him.
"No, you're not in heaven, Robin. Not yet. I'm Brother Tuck. King Richard sent me to find you. When you're better, we'll talk. But right now, you've got a dislocated shoulder I've got to set right. I'll do it now, before you wake up any more."
He did, and had to clamp his hand over Robin's mouth to stifle the scream that rent the air.
"Sorry, but we don't want your friend Gisborne coming down this way, do we? Proves one thing, though—there's some life in you yet. There's a cave not far from here. I'm going to take you there and look after you."
Tuck laid Robin on a blanket inside the cave, and soon had a small fire going near the entrance. He pulled off Robin's wet clothes and covered him with another blanket. By this time Robin was moaning and shivering. He carried him closer to the fire and rubbed him down with the blanket. He checked the man's other injuries. A few bruises, scrapes, a swollen knee. A deep gash on the back of his head. Tuck cleaned the wound and bandaged it. When Robin quieted down, he set about preparing a meal from the supplies in his pack. He was stirring a small pot of soup when he heard the sound of voices coming in their direction.
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Guy had ordered his men to spread out and search the riverbank carefully. There was no telling how far Hood might have drifted downstream. It was late afternoon already, and no sign of the outlaw. His temper had reached the breaking point.
"Where are you?" he shouted across the river. He slashed at the bushes in his path in frustration, and then spun about, sword raised, as he heard a voice from behind him.
"Are you looking for something?"
A broad, dark-skinned man in the brown robes and hood of a monk stood there, seemingly having appeared out of nowhere.
Guy held his sword in front of him. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" he demanded in a harsh voice.
"A man of God, traveling north, searching for shelter wherever I can find it. You're Sir Guy of Gisborne, aren't you?"
Guy stared at him warily. Tuck took in his appearance—long, unkempt hair falling in his face, disheveled clothing, and fierce, feral eyes. He reminded Tuck of a wolf, a lean, ravening, black wolf. Dangerous and unpredictable. The man's reputation, Tuck decided, was well-deserved. He would need to tread carefully.
"I must congratulate you. I heard you struck a great blow today in the fight against lawlessness," he said. "You must be very happy to have brought Robin Hood to justice."
Guy lowered his sword. He was not a particularly religious man, yet he had a certain respect for, and trust of, those in religious orders. The man before him posed no threat that he could detect.
"You seem troubled, my friend," Tuck added.
Guy gazed around at the darkening woods before turning back to the monk.
"Have you seen a body, in the river?"
"No," answered Tuck, surprised within himself at the ease with which he lied to the man. "I've seen no body. Perhaps the river has taken it."
"Maybe."
"May I offer you a meal, a simple supper, to strengthen you in your search? Or a confession, to help ease whatever disturbs your mind?"
He reached out his hand, but Guy flinched away from him. He fixed Tuck with a dark glower.
"I need to find him, that's what I need to do! That will ease my mind. I won't stop until he is found!"
He re-sheathed his sword, turned away, and headed back up the river.
"If I find him, Sir Guy, I'll send you word," Tuck called after him. He smiled as he watched the man disappear into the woods. He patted his sword, hidden under his loose robes. Close call.
Now, he thought, to get Robin back on his feet, and soon. England needs him.
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Tuck returned to the cave. He checked on Robin, and found him still asleep. He sat down near the fire to stir his soup. The woods outside grew dark. He went to Robin and shook him gently.
"Come on, time to eat."
Robin slowly opened his eyes. "Who are you?"
"I introduced myself earlier, but I suppose you wouldn't remember," Tuck said with a smile as he ladled out a bowl for Robin. "I'm Brother Tuck."
"Did I kill him?"
"Gisborne? No. He nearly killed you, however. You've got a pretty big bump on the head, so it's no surprise you're confused and can't remember."
Robin attempted to get up. "Where is he? I have to find him, finish this business—"
"Hold on," said Tuck, settling his patient back on the blanket. "You're not going anywhere. You're hurt. If you go after him now, you're the only one who will be finished."
"I have to kill him!" Robin continued stubbornly.
"If you don't sit still, I'll be forced to tie you up. Now, eat this. You need your strength."
"I've got strength enough."
"Robin, eat, and then we'll talk."
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"King Richard?"
"Yes. He sent me to find you and offer you my help. I can tell by your face that you don't believe me. Here's the letter from him to you."
Robin opened the seal, the king's own seal. He read it.
"He wants me to keep up the fight, and wait for him. He says he's coming as soon as possible to deal with his brother, and Vaisey. I presume that includes Gisborne."
He folded the letter, and shook his head. "Tuck, I can't do this."
"What do you mean, Robin? King Richard has every confidence in you, I know he does."
"I've given everything I can to this cause. I almost lost Marian, my wife, in the Holy Land, because of Vaisey and Gisborne. She's still very weak. My men were in great danger, and they are here, too. We're all outlaws with a price on our heads. I can't touch the Sheriff because of his pact with Prince John. I tried to kill Gisborne today, and he almost killed me. Tuck, I'm tired. I hurt so bad right now I doubt I could string my bow, let alone shoot."
"You're hurt, Robin, I know, but it will pass. You'll recover, and soon. When you get your strength back—"
"No, Tuck. I'm too tired to keep up this fight. I want peace. I just want to take Marian away from here, somewhere safe, where we can live our lives in peace."
"What about the people of Nottingham, Robin? The people of Locksley, of Clun, of Nettlestone? They need you. You're their hero. You know, when I left this country years ago, the people I saw here were proud, happy, full of life. I come back to find them downtrodden, hopeless, their spirits broken. Except for one thing, one name on their lips that gives them hope—Robin Hood."
"Well, maybe that name doesn't mean anything now, Tuck, because I'm finished with it. I can't help them. Nothing I've done has made any real difference, let's face it. They're still living under a tyrant, still starved and taxed and beaten."
"You can't give up, Robin. When you're better—"
"No, Tuck. I've made up my mind. When I'm better, I'm taking Marian and leaving this place."
Tuck sat tending the fire after Robin finished his meal and dozed off. The man, he realized, was wounded now in more than body. His confidence was gone, his faith in himself shattered. Something has to be done to shake him out of this apathy, thought Tuck, and soon, before it gets rooted any deeper in his heart.
A plan came to him as he watched the sleeping Robin. God forgive me, he thought, for what I'm going to do. I just hope it works, or we're all sunk.
He went to Robin and spoke to him. Robin rolled over and opened his eyes.
"Robin, rest here. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Where are you going?"
"Just rest. I need your promise that you'll stay here until I get back."
He nodded. "But where are you going?"
Tuck disappeared into the darkness outside without another word.
He'd better not be going to see the Sheriff, or Gisborne, thought Robin. He's very mysterious, King Richard's messenger or not, and I don't like mysteries.
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Tuck trotted through the woods at a swift pace, straining his eyes in the darkness as he looked for the landmarks that would lead him to the outlaw camp. It was deeper in Sherwood that he thought. Several hours passed before he found it. He approached quietly, but the outlaws were alert. Soon he found himself confronted by three men. One carried a torch, the other two stood with drawn knives and bows at the ready.
"Who are you?"
"A tall, dark stranger?" He smiled at his own wit.
"Very funny, wise-mouth! Now answer the question!" shot back a burly giant. Little John, thought Tuck.
The men moved in closer. Tuck raised his hands.
"I'm Brother Tuck," he told them. "Here on business from King Richard."
"King Richard?" asked another, a wide-eyed, intense young man wearing a headscarf.
"Yes. He sent me to help your leader, Robin Hood. Which one of you is Much? You? So you would recognize the king's own seal."
He handed the man the letter from the king.
"It's the king's seal, all right," Much told the other men. "I'd know it anywhere."
"Robin is gone," Little John said. "He fought with Gisborne, early this morning. We searched the river beyond Locksley but couldn't find him. We fear he's—"
"Dead?" interjected Tuck. "There I can reassure you all. Robin isn't dead. I've just come from him. He's hurt, but he'll be fine. He's sorry for the things he said to you."
"What? Robin, alive?" The men's faces were astonished and overjoyed.
"I told you, didn't I?" Much said to the others. "He's not dead, I knew it!"
"Hang on!" cut in the third man. He had close-cropped dark blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes, and a face that seemed made for laughter. But now he stepped close to Tuck, with his chin stuck out belligerently. Allan a Dale, thought Tuck.
"Why should we trust you? Maybe you're from the Sheriff, trying to trick us! What's your game, eh?"
Tuck noticed the others give him a long look, which flustered him into silence. He moved back, and lowered his head. Yes, must be Allan. The one who turned traitor for a while.
"I'm not from the Sheriff," said Tuck. "I've been looking after Robin."
"Where is he? We need to see him."
"You will, tomorrow. He'll meet you at Deadman's Crossing, at noon. He's sorry for what he said to you. Don't worry, he'll explain everything then."
Tuck slipped away before Robin's men could ask him any more questions. So far, so good. Now for the difficult, and more dangerous, part of my plan, he thought. He turned in the direction of Locksley Manor, to find Sir Guy of Gisborne.
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"What is it that haunts you, my son? Is it because there are still outlaws on the loose in Sherwood?"
Tuck sat across from Guy, whose hand clenched a goblet of wine. The morning sun streamed in through the windows, but Guy had not slept, to all appearances. He looked exhausted, and a little drunk.
"No," Guy said. "Without Hood, they're lost. It's only a matter of time before they are caught."
"Then what is it that upsets you?"
"Fear," Guy replied, his eyes downcast. "The fear that my enemy isn't dead. I searched all day yesterday and couldn't find him. He might have survived. He might be out there, watching me, waiting...How can I get some peace?"
"There I can reassure you," said Tuck. "Robin was buried last night, in secret, by his men."
"He's dead?"
"Yes. And his men will be meeting at Deadman's Crossing today at noon. You have a chance to bring them in, Sir Guy."
Guy stood up abruptly, setting the wine goblet down with a bang. He stared at Tuck.
"Thank you."
Tuck bowed his head. "Only too happy to assist in the fight against lawlessness."
Guy moved toward the door, but then swung about, drew his sword, and seized Tuck by the shoulder. Tuck was a big man, but Gisborne's strength was terrifying. He shoved Tuck against the wall and held the sword to his throat. His eyes gleamed with a dark and savage fire.
"If you've lied to me, you'll die!"
Guy released him, and strode from the room, slamming the manor's front door behind him. Tuck took a deep breath and rubbed his shoulder, which ached from the man's powerful grip.
Now, he thought, to the crossing to watch it all play out. And hope my plan doesn't go terribly wrong.
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"I don't like this," complained Allan. "Something doesn't feel right."
He, Much, and Little John walked down the path through Sherwood to the crossing. It was close to noon. The sun shone through the trees overhead. Djaq and Will had stayed behind at Matilda's cottage to look after Marian. They had all agreed to say nothing to her of Robin's fate until he was back with them and they were certain he was okay.
"Robin's alive!" said Much, confidently marching ahead of the other two, and quite deaf to Allan's forebodings. "He'll be back with us soon!"
"You mark my words," Allan persisted. "Something's strange here. I don't trust this Tuck character."
"Allan, enough!" grunted John. "Come on, we're almost there."
They reached the crossing a few minutes later. At first they saw no one. Then, a few yards down the path leading toward Clun, they saw a man, his back turned to them, wearing a hooded black cloak.
"Robin?" said Much, in a low and uncertain voice.
The man turned around, flung off the cape, and opened his arms wide in a mocking gesture of welcome. It was Gisborne. All three outlaws took a startled step backward.
"I'm here to pay my respects to Robin Hood!" Gisborne announced. He put his hand on his chest and gave them a bow. "Hope you don't mind."
He motioned to the guards waiting behind the trees. "Arrest them!"
Before they could mouth a word of protest, John, Much, and Allan were bound and dragged off to Nottingham Castle.
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"I have them, my lord," Guy reported to the Sheriff. "The rest of Robin Hood's men."
"Where are they?"
"In the dungeon."
"Good. Excellent work, Gisborne. I'll pay them a little visit later. Right now we have another job to do. Sir Jasper will be back here tomorrow to view Hood's corpse and collect Prince John's money."
"My lord, I'll keep looking—"
"No, never mind that. Send down a few guards to the river to keep searching. If all else fails we'll send along Robin's tag as proof and hope it's enough. Or, even better, we'll send one of those outlaws back with Jasper, after we hang the lot of them tomorrow. Prince John has never seen Hood—he won't know the difference. What I need you to do is collect that thousand crowns of tribute for me, and have the full amount back here by nightfall."
"How?"
"I don't care how! Do I have to think of everything, Gisborne? Use your imagination! Round up your best soldiers. Go through Nottingham and all the villages. Take everything those filthy peasants own, take the gold right out of their mouths if you have to, but get me that money!"
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"This is your fault, both of you," moaned Allan, as leaned on the bars of his cell. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted that monk. You know, this wouldn't have happened if you two had listened to me in the first place. But does anyone listen to me? No! So here we are."
"How were we supposed to know?" exclaimed Much. "That letter Brother Tuck had, it was sealed with the king's seal."
"What does that prove? He could have stolen it."
"Whatever, Allan. Doesn't matter now. We're stuck. I don't suppose you could sweet-talk Gisborne into letting us out, could you? You and he were such pals, after all."
"Aw, nice. Thanks, Much. You're never going to let go of that one, are you? Come on, I said I was sorry, al'right. How many more times are you gonna make me say it? I'm here with you now, aren't I?"
"Yeah, for all the good it'll do any of us. We'll all be dead tomorrow, unless you can come up with some plan to get us out."
"You want clever, or really clever?"
"Very funny."
"Well, what do you want me to do? Robin was always the man with the plan, wasn't he? And it's not like me and Gisborne are on speaking terms anymore."
"That you ever were—unbelievable!"
"Shut up, t'both of you!" grumbled Little John. "Arguing like a couple of schoolboys. Be quiet and try to think of some way of getting out of here."
They heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and looked out of the cell door to see the Sheriff and two guards coming toward them.
"Great," Much said glumly. "Just when you think it can't get any worse."
Sheriff Vaisey was all smiles as he walked up to the cell doors.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he addressed them. "I trust you have everything you need to make your stay comfortable."
Much looked away, and John fixed the Sheriff with a baleful eye. Neither one answered Vaisey. Allan was not to be outdone, however.
"We seemed to have missed out on the welcoming pitcher of mead," he informed the Sheriff.
"Ha, very good. Well, Allan, here you are, back with your old friends again, for your last night on earth. How appropriate."
He turned to the others. "Now, just to keep you up to speed on my schedule, tomorrow, at midday, the people of Nottingham will witness the final end of Robin Hood's gang of thieves and criminals. It promises to be quite an event, so I hope you won't disappoint the spectators."
"Oh, I do like a good execution," remarked Allan drily.
"Excellent. Any questions before I leave you to enjoy your last evening together?"
"Yeah. When are you serving dinner?" Allan asked.
The Sheriff smiled pleasantly and rubbed his hands together. "Very good. If you're this cheery tomorrow it should be great fun."
He and his guards walked back out through the prison doors, leaving the three outlaws to spend a long night alternately grieving the feared and now almost certain loss of Robin, and the anticipated loss of their own lives.
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"I've just gotten word, Robin. Gisborne and his thugs went into all the villages, and throughout Nottingham, collecting the prince's tribute money at the points of their swords. They stripped practically every house of its valuables. And Gisborne has also captured your friends," Tuck told him. "They are to be executed tomorrow."
Robin looked down with a grimace and a shake of his head.
"What should I do? What can I do?"
"Look into your heart, Robin. You'll find the answer."
Robin sighed heavily, and turned and walked away, into the woods. Tuck watched him go. A short time later, he came back, and stood near the fire.
"They're my men, Tuck," he said quietly. "They would give their lives for me. Can I do any less?"
He sat down beside Tuck. "And you're right. I can't just turn my back on people. I've got to help them."
"I'm glad to hear it, Robin. What are you going to do?"
"First of all, I've got to rescue my men."
"Do you have a plan?"
"Not yet. Getting into Nottingham is easy enough. It's getting my gang out safely again that's the real trick. Any suggestions?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. But I think we should meet up with the rest of your gang first. Where are they, at the camp?"
"Either there or with Marian."
"Where's Marian?"
"In hiding. She's with a woman named Matilda. She was my nurse when I was a child, but now she's in hiding, too. A run-in with Vaisey a couple of years ago. It's a long story. Will and Djaq have been there with her at Matilda's cottage most of the time, looking after her."
"You named only two, other than Marian."
Robin smiled and shrugged. "I'm afraid that's it, Tuck. That's my whole gang, unless you plan on joining us. That's all the men I have. Actually, Djaq's a woman, Will's wife, in fact, but she's as good as any man in a fight."
"If my plan works, Robin, none of you will need to do much fighting. And I am going to join you."
Tuck picked up a stick and began sketching in the dirt.
"Here's my idea. If it works, it will get your men out, give you the chance to return that stolen money to the people, and kick Vaisey's sorry butt at the same time."
"Sounds great. What's the plan?"
"It involves greed."
"Greed?"
"Yes. A common enough human failing, and one we can use to our advantage. We're going to create an irresistible diversion."
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At Locksley Manor, Guy slept uneasily. Though he had no reason to think the monk named Tuck had lied to him, he felt a vague anxiety. There was no body to deliver, only the man's word that the outlaw was dead. He was not at all certain that Sir Jasper would accept this as sufficient proof to present to Prince John.
Then there was the problem of Allan a Dale. They had worked together for many months prior to the failed mission in the Holy Land. Allan was the closest thing he'd had to a friend since childhood, and he had grown quite fond of the man during their partnership. Now, to have to arrest Allan, and watch his execution, disturbed him more than he would have imagined.
Deeper down, where he didn't want to go, was a feeling of shame in regards to Robin. Robin had been injured, barely conscious, when he had thrown him off the cliff. Something in Guy, some remaining shred of honour, told him that what he had done was dishonourable and cowardly. He thought of Marian, and how she would have viewed his actions. She had always urged him to be a better man, to get away from Vaisey, to do the right thing. He knew he should have listened to her, but he hadn't, and now she was dead. Because of Vaisey, and because of him.
And Robin. Yes, it had been Robin's doing. If he hadn't been mixed up with Marian, she would still be alive, and his wife by now. Lady Gisborne.
Guy rolled over, pulled the blanket over his head, and crushed out the remains of his troublesome conscience. Robin was dead, and soon the last of his gang would be, too. The sooner the better. He'd had far too many sleepless nights as of late.
