The garden clung to the side of the castle like a toddler clinging to its mother's skirts. Rows of tidy flowers, surrounded by tastefully gnarled trees, lay on the landscape hodgepodge as if the architect had begun a plan for taming the wildness and had suddenly found himself called away elsewhere, which is exactly what had taken place. The sunlight that managed to break between the clouds at odd intervals did little, while the mild winds of late April spoke of a warm summer.
A figure stood half in shadow, his face hidden from view as the light caught on the shining pink of the newly shaved tonsure, which he carried on a thatch of brown hair. He paused, stepping out into the garden, his sandaled toes brushing against the new grass. Walking with a shuffling gait more suited for the cloister, he approached a tree near the garden's center and leaned wearily against the trunk.
Breathing in gasps, Brother Tuck said, "I've been...all over the castle...should have known." A few mottled leaves and the small green shape of an unopened flower bud fell into his tonsure then, followed by a muffled sniffle and a voice in the quiet.
"I wanted to be alone."
There was a movement above him, and then a bundle of elbows and knees and wiry red hair resolved itself into a young girl as she dropped from the tree to the ground. Trying without success to smooth the wrinkles out of the green linen of her dress, she refused to meet his eyes as he caught a glimpse of reddened lids and guessed at the cause.
Lady Marion of Leaford, heiress to her father's wealth and lands, was suddenly, in Tuck's eyes, no more and no less than a small, frightened little girl. A girl who, at the age of twelve, had just exchanged the only family and the only home she'd ever known for the cold grey uncertainty of Nottingham. Suddenly, the ward of the Abbot Hugo and Robert de Renault, the Sheriff, was no different from the beggar children who camped out in front of the abbey door each day, their eyes hungry and hands empty.
Without thinking, he hugged her to him briefly, then held her at arms length, looking directly into her startled eyes. "Tell me, Little Flower, have you seen the bees?"
One big, cool palm lay on one thin shoulder, while he held two hats in the other hand. The hats were straw affairs, with long mesh nets hanging from them. Putting one on, Tuck grinned as he dropped one of them onto Marion, causing her to shriek and then laugh as she struggled to flip the mesh behind her. That done he led her to a nearby table, where several small hives hummed with the activity of a burgeoning spring. She started, the oversized hat almost falling off her head.
"Won't they sting us?" she asked.
"No, my child, and even if they tried, they can't get through the hood." From the table, he handed her a small bellows.
"Do you know what that does?" he asked. The child's hood shook, with a strong negative. "You fill that with smoke and then blow it at the bees. And then, they sleep."
"And that's when you take the honey," she said, calmly. He looked at her, seeing the loneliness behind the tilt of her head, the dullness of her eyes beneath the hat's mesh. Pulling back the mesh from first his and then her hat, he stared into her eyes for a moment and then spoke.
"Sometimes...Sometimes we are like the bees. And God is like the bee-keeper. Problems come, like the smoke, and the Light inside us, well, it falls asleep."
He stopped breathing and he saw her as she would be. Her voice was a sigh. "But when do we wake?"
Tuck breathed again. "When it's time, Little Flower. When it's time."
"I've not been bewitched. I've been Awakened. You slept too long. We all have...It's time to fight back."
~ Robin of Loxley, The Hooded Man
A figure stood half in shadow, his face hidden from view as the light caught on the shining pink of the newly shaved tonsure, which he carried on a thatch of brown hair. He paused, stepping out into the garden, his sandaled toes brushing against the new grass. Walking with a shuffling gait more suited for the cloister, he approached a tree near the garden's center and leaned wearily against the trunk.
Breathing in gasps, Brother Tuck said, "I've been...all over the castle...should have known." A few mottled leaves and the small green shape of an unopened flower bud fell into his tonsure then, followed by a muffled sniffle and a voice in the quiet.
"I wanted to be alone."
There was a movement above him, and then a bundle of elbows and knees and wiry red hair resolved itself into a young girl as she dropped from the tree to the ground. Trying without success to smooth the wrinkles out of the green linen of her dress, she refused to meet his eyes as he caught a glimpse of reddened lids and guessed at the cause.
Lady Marion of Leaford, heiress to her father's wealth and lands, was suddenly, in Tuck's eyes, no more and no less than a small, frightened little girl. A girl who, at the age of twelve, had just exchanged the only family and the only home she'd ever known for the cold grey uncertainty of Nottingham. Suddenly, the ward of the Abbot Hugo and Robert de Renault, the Sheriff, was no different from the beggar children who camped out in front of the abbey door each day, their eyes hungry and hands empty.
Without thinking, he hugged her to him briefly, then held her at arms length, looking directly into her startled eyes. "Tell me, Little Flower, have you seen the bees?"
One big, cool palm lay on one thin shoulder, while he held two hats in the other hand. The hats were straw affairs, with long mesh nets hanging from them. Putting one on, Tuck grinned as he dropped one of them onto Marion, causing her to shriek and then laugh as she struggled to flip the mesh behind her. That done he led her to a nearby table, where several small hives hummed with the activity of a burgeoning spring. She started, the oversized hat almost falling off her head.
"Won't they sting us?" she asked.
"No, my child, and even if they tried, they can't get through the hood." From the table, he handed her a small bellows.
"Do you know what that does?" he asked. The child's hood shook, with a strong negative. "You fill that with smoke and then blow it at the bees. And then, they sleep."
"And that's when you take the honey," she said, calmly. He looked at her, seeing the loneliness behind the tilt of her head, the dullness of her eyes beneath the hat's mesh. Pulling back the mesh from first his and then her hat, he stared into her eyes for a moment and then spoke.
"Sometimes...Sometimes we are like the bees. And God is like the bee-keeper. Problems come, like the smoke, and the Light inside us, well, it falls asleep."
He stopped breathing and he saw her as she would be. Her voice was a sigh. "But when do we wake?"
Tuck breathed again. "When it's time, Little Flower. When it's time."
"I've not been bewitched. I've been Awakened. You slept too long. We all have...It's time to fight back."
~ Robin of Loxley, The Hooded Man
