When Rook woke the next morning, he could not immediately recall why he felt so utterly miserable. Then he remembered. Tod. He had kissed Tod. And for an instant, Tod had kissed him. They had shared a brief, sweet moment - and then Tod pushed him away, calling it a mistake.
Rook wanted desperately to say something to Tod, to mend things between them. Nothing came to mind. How could he apologise, when he did not understand what he had done wrong? But it did not matter whether he knew what to say or not. When Rook sat up, the space beside him where Tod had lain the night before was empty. Rook looked around the top of the tor. His friends were beginning to wake, and gather up their belongings. Tod was nowhere to be seen.
Rook rolled up his cloak, and hurried down the path to his cave. Perhaps Tod had returned there to sleep, wanting some space in which to think things over. But Tod was not there, either, nor were any of his belongings. The place his bedroll had occupied beside Rook's fire during the past weeks was empty.
Rook, too, felt empty as he stared at the bare earthen floor of the cave. Somehow, without understanding it, he had ruined everything. Blinded by his desire to kiss his friend, Rook had missed, or misunderstood, something important. Now Tod was gone, perhaps for good, and it was all Rook's fault.
Gravel crunched on the path as the rest of the Rowan Hollow band descended, arms full of bundled blankets and cloaks. Rowan and Etty ducked their heads into the cave.
"Where is Brother Tod?" Etty asked. "I wanted to thank him again for his beautiful service last night."
"I don't know," said Rook. "Gone."
"When?" Rowan asked, frowning.
Rook shrugged. "Sometime in the night."
"Oh!" cried Etty, dismayed. "I hope he didn't stumble from the path in the dark."
"He made it this far." Rook waved a hand at the empty space. "He knows the path down from here well enough."
"What happened?" asked Rowan, eyeing Rook shrewdly.
Rook looked away. "I kissed him. I guess he didn't want me to, after all."
"Oh, Rook!" said Etty sympathetically. "I'm so sorry."
"Perhaps he just needs some time to think," Rowan suggested.
"He took all his things with him," Rook pointed out. "I don't think he means to come back."
"Etty, go and catch up with the others," said Rowan. "Tell them to look out for Tod, and if they see him, to bring back word. I'll be along presently."
Etty hurried away, and Rowan sat down on the bundle of cloaks heo had been carrying. "Tell me."
Rook sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, and told Rowan in a few words about Tod and Zaahir, and what had happened the night before.
Rowan frowned, nodding thoughtfully.
"What did I do wrong?" Rook asked.
"I don't think you did anything wrong, Rook," Rowan assured him. "But I think I understand now."
"Well, I don't."
"He's still hurting, and he's afraid of being hurt again."
"Maybe," said Rook doubtfully. "Or maybe he just doesn't want that sort of attention from me."
Rowan stood, gathering up heore bundle. "Come along to the cottage. I won't have you sitting here, feeling sorry for yourself all day. I doubt he's gone far, and if anyone sees him, we'll hear about it sooner there."
"No," said Rook gruffly. "I'm going fishing."
Rowan's brow creased with concern. "All right. But come by the cottage later, won't you?"
Rook promised that he would, since it was easier than arguing, and headed quickly down the path, leaving Rowan to make heore slower way behind.
When he reached the river, Rook sat down on the bank with a sigh. He liked fishing. It was relaxing. When the weather was as pleasant as it was today, he could lie on his belly on the rocky ledge for hours, mind empty of all thoughts, barely noticing the passage of time, one arm drifting in the cool water of the fish pool, as he waited for a fish to swim close to his beckoning fingers.
Today, though, his mind would not clear. It was too full of Tod, and of Rook's own self-pity. He tried filling it up with other things - peasants' work songs, and the ballads Lionel made - but one of the melodies he found himself humming turned out to be the ghazal that Tod had sung for him the night before. Remembering the sad, wistful look on Tod's face as he sang, Rook squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fist in the water, startling away a curious fish.
It wasn't you he wanted, the voice in the back of his mind whispered again. It wasn't you he held, the night he wept in your arms. That was only a sweet lie you told yourself. Zaahir is the one he wants to hold and kiss. It's only because he can't that he let you be near him.
Rook wondered where Tod was now. Likely, he had left the forest at first light, heading who knew where, as long as it was far away from Rook.
He tried to fish for a while longer, but the trout in the pool seemed to sense his agitation, and stayed clear of him. Finally, Rook gave up. He rolled onto his back with a sigh, staring up at the blue sky that peeked between the branches of the sheltering trees.
Tod was gone. Rook resigned himself to that fact. He only wished he had had the chance to apologise for whatever offence he had caused. He could not bear the thought of Tod thinking ill of him forever, feeling that Rook had betrayed their friendship. Rook cursed his wayward feelings. If only he had been the sort of man who liked women, Tod would still be here, and would still be his friend, and they would both be better for it.
Rook realised that what he felt was loneliness. Before Tod had come, Rook had enjoyed solitary activities like fishing and hunting, or just being in the forest, alone with his thoughts and the peaceful stillness. He had liked having his own space in his cave to retreat to. All those things were good, but Tod's companionship had been sweeter still. Now Tod was gone, taking that sweetness with him, and all the rest of Rook's joy in life as well.
He tried to imagine what it would feel like to sleep alone in his cave that night, without an evening's conversation, or the soft click of Tod's rosary beads as he said his prayers before sleeping. The thought of that silence and emptiness was so terrible that Rook was on his feet at once, fleeing through the forest, unable to bear another moment alone with his own thoughts.
Lionel, Etty, and Beau were working in the garden, while Smudge played happily with a pile of smooth river stones in a corner, when Rook arrived at the cottage, out of breath. Etty stood up, dusting off her hands and knees, and peered at him with concern from under the broad brim of her hat.
"Are you well, Rook?"
He ignored the question. "Where's Rowan?"
"Gone to ask Robin and his band to look out for Tod."
Rook looked away. "They don't have to do that. If he wants to go, that's his choice."
"Why would he want to go?" asked Lionel. "He seemed happy enough last night."
"No reason," said Rook, too quickly. "He just did."
Etty frowned. "Rook, we're your friends. You can talk to us. Come help me tie up these plants."
"You're not looking for him," Rook pointed out as he knelt beside her and began to tie trailing pea vines up off the ground with bits of twine. "You think he was right to go."
"No," said Etty. "I think it was foolish of you to kiss him without making sure first that it was what he wanted. But if Rowan thinks he hasn't gone far, then neither do I."
Rook shook his head glumly. "I should've known he wouldn't want me."
Beau laughed. "Why would you be thinking that?"
"Because I'm not -" Rook scowled. "I'm just - Rook."
Etty put down her twine and stared at him seriously. "You think you're not good enough for him?"
"I'm not," said Rook. "I can't read or write. I don't know the names and history of the stars. I'm not a scholar or a poet -"
"And you think that's what he wants?" Etty asked.
Rook looked down at his dirt-stained hands. "I think that's who he wishes he still had."
Etty's expression softened. "He lost someone?"
Rook nodded.
Etty smoothed her skirts thoughtfully. "That's sad. But that's no reason why he wouldn't want you."
"Isn't it?"
"You have a head like a turnip, Rook," snorted Beau, shaking his own head.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Rook bristled.
"It means you do not see what is right in front of you."
"What am I supposed to see?"
Beau put an arm around Etty, pulling her close. "You would agree that my sweet Etty loves me, no?"
Rook nodded.
"But is it not also true that she loves our dear Rowan?" Beau continued. "Rowan and I, we are not very much the same, and yet our princess loves neither of us less for it."
"Well, yes," scowled Rook. "But that's different."
"It's not," said Etty. "When you love someone, you love their differences. You love the unique person that they are, and all they have to offer."
"I'm an unlettered outlaw who lives in a cave," Rook pointed out. "What do I have to offer anyone?"
"You know every plant in the forest, where they grow, and what their uses are," said Etty. "You know how to hunt and fish. You can make things with your hands. You can survive a winter in the open. You use your gifts to help others. You're thoughtful and quick-witted. You're a fearless and loyal friend. You have a strong sense of justice, and a kind heart."
Rook blushed. "You flatter me."
"I speak only the truth," said Etty, smiling at him fondly.
"Also," grinned Beau, "you have big, pretty eyes like a cow, and a nice bum. Brother Tod thinks so, too. I saw him looking one night, when you bent to pick up Smudge. Does the Good Book not say 'where a man's eyes go, there also his hands wish to be'?"
"Beau! It most certainly does not!" said Etty, feigning shock, and smacking him lightly on the arm, as Rook's flush deepened.
"His is not so nice as yours, my sweet," Beau assured her, kissing her on the nose.
"Are you three quite finished talking of romance?" grumbled Lionel. "Some of us are trying to get some work done, so that we can survive another winter."
"Just because you have no care for such things doesn't mean the rest of us must keep silent about them, too," said Beau.
"I do, too, care about romance," Lionel objected. "If it makes a good song."
"There are at least a dozen lasses in Nottingham, and probably some lads as well, who would follow you into the forest for the sake of your blond curls and a song," teased Etty.
Lionel shrugged. "They can do as they please."
"At least have pity on our poor lovelorn Rook," Etty chided him. "Can't you think of a kind word to say to him, when he's feeling so downhearted?"
"I'm fine," objected Rook. "Tod just doesn't like me."
"That's silly," said Lionel. "Why would you think he doesn't like you? Who has he spent all his time with since he came here? If he likes men, why not join Robin Hood's band? There are a few there who wouldn't mind having a handsome young monk around."
"If he wanted the company of scholars, he could have gone to a city like Paris, and joined a monastery," Etty pointed out.
"And if he had a taste for pretty poets," Beau grinned, "he would have wooed our Lionel."
"Little good it would have done him." Lionel rolled his eyes.
"Or maybe he doesn't want anyone," said Rook.
"Maybe he thinks he does not," said Beau, "but Lionel is right. He has slept in your cave every night, these past weeks, and spent almost every day at your side. He sits near you when you take supper at the cottage, and he sighs and makes longing looks at you when he thinks no one is looking." Beau fluttered his eyelashes and put a hand to his forehead, feigning a swoon.
Rook scowled. "He doesn't do that."
"Well, perhaps not so dramatic," Beau allowed, "but he watches you, all the same, and he prefers your company to anyone else in the greenwood."
Rook had no answer for that, and fortunately he did not have to think of one. At that moment, Tykell bounded out of the trees, with Rowan following not far behind. The wolf-dog trotted up to Smudge, and began licking the toddler's face in greeting, as if he had not seen her in days. Smudge shrieked with delight, dropping her pebbles and burying her fingers in Tykell's thick fur.
Rowan caught sight of Rook, and smiled. Rook sat up straighter, trying not to hope or ask whether there was any word of Tod.
"I'm glad to see you here," said Rowan. "It's good to have another pair of hands to help around the place."
"Much help any of them are," grumbled Lionel. "All they do is talk."
Rowan ignored him. "If you've a mind to help, Rook, I would be glad if you would go down to the spring and fill our water bucket."
Rook looked sharply at Rowan. Tasks involving heavy lifting were usually given to Lionel, who was the strongest among them. Not that Rook could not manage a bucket of water; only that Lionel could carry twice as much without breaking a sweat.
A secretive smile curled the corner of Rowan's mouth, and heo inclined heore head in the direction of the spring, eyebrows raised. Rook's mouth went dry, and his heart began to beat faster. If Rowan was sending him, there could be only one reason. Without a word, Rook snatched up the bucket and hurried away down the path to the rowan hollow.
