CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

CATCH A CAT BY THE TAIL

The afternoon sky was a pale grey, almost white. But the rain wouldn't stop.

Adrien watched it patter against the glass window as he sat perched upon the sill.

The water distorted the image of Friar Fu's garden, which appeared as dull blotches of purples, pinks, and greens. Down the hill, beyond the long gravel road, lay Nottingham. It looked more like a twisted, haunted ghost town than the village Adrien remembered growing up in – full of sunshine and laughter, who no soldiers hovering over you.

Adrien sighed and rested his head against the stone wall. He closed his eyes and listened to the bellows of the great church bell, which Ivan the acolyte rang with slow, lazy pulls.

DONG... DONG... DONG...

Oh, it was no good. Adrien still felt like he was at somebody's funeral.

He slid off the windowsill and straightened his black tunic and cloak, which were still damp from his stroll in the rain earlier. Adrien started pacing and staring over the empty rows of pews. His footsteps echoed through the open, high-ceiling hall... and it only irritated Adrien more.

Each day, Sheriff Roger and his cronies took more taxes faster than Ladybug and her band could steal them back. Each day, the soldiers rounded up more villagers and herded them into the castle dungeons. Each day, Nottingham grew quieter and more destitute.

Off to the side, Mylene was sweeping the floor roughly, as though the tolls of the bell and the silence of the church made her agitated too. Her honey-coloured hair stood out in a bush of small braids against her grey, acolyte's robe.

Bits of dirt and dust gathered in small bundles on the ground as Mylene swept. Among them was a curved twig that looked like the curved arch of a bow.

A bow...

Adrien groaned, running his fingers through his flaying, golden-hair. By God, it drove him mad with worry, being away from Marinette for this long – wondering day and night where his fiancée was now, what she was doing... if she was safe.

With Chloe's guards sweeping every inch of Sherwood Forest, going back to the hideout was too risky. Now, Adrien and his friends were scattered throughout Nottingham. The safest way to communicate was by leaving messages in the church's confessional.

When Adrien had arrived earlier and entered the cabinet, relief flooded through him when he found a rolled up piece of parchment under the chair, tied with red ribbon.

House is locked, the message said in his lady's lovely handwriting. Need meeting place. Talk to Uncle. I love you. Be safe.

"Uncle" was Marinette's codename for Friar Fu. The less people Chloe knew was involved with the outlaws, the better.

As for "House", that meant Nottingham Castle. And if it was locked, then that meant the secret entrance Adrien had suggested they try was being watched. They couldn't get into the castle and rescue the prisoners that way.

Once again, the plan was put on hold.

Though disheartened, Adrien had made his reply message optimistic: We'll find the key. Uncle says he'll make cookies. I love you more. He'd rolled the paper up, kissed it, and slipped it under the chair.

Now, the lordling waited for the heavy rain to lessen before he would pull on his black hood and disappear. Catching a cold would undoubtably put another stopper in his and Marinette's rescue plans.

Ivan finally stopped ringing the bell, and he blew out a long breath as he wiped his sweaty forehead and walked back into the main hall. "Friar Fu," the burly boy sighed, turning to the altar, "I don't think anyone is coming."

Friar Fu lifted his gaze at his apprentice from his spot, where he sat reading from a book of prayers. Now he stood and bore a hopeful, elderly smile. "You may be right, Ivan," he said, "but this bell will give the poor people some comfort. We must do what we can to keep their hopes alive."

Ivan nodded sadly.

Mylene make angry strokes at the floor, and her brown eyes darkened. "Oh... how can there be any hope?" she complained with a strained voice. She paused in her work and looked up. "Especially with that... that... tyrant Princess Chloe taxing the heart and soul out of the poor people." She stifled and dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

Ivan went over and put a gentle, beefy arm around Mylene to comfort her. She leaned against his chest with a sigh.

Adrien smiled, slightly envious of the affection they shared but thankful that there was at least one couple here in Nottingham that was still together.

Friar Fu went over to a small table that beheld a wooden box with a coin slot in the lid. "Yes, those poor people..." the old priest mused with pained sadness. He lifted the lid, sighed, and closed it. "And our poor box is like our church: empty."

Adrien blinked, deep in thought, and glanced at the poor box.

He remembered the first time he visited Nottinghill Church as a boy. Marinette had showed him the box; told him about Friar Fu's humanitarian efforts to raise money for the poor. It had warmed the little lordling's heart so much, he swore to make a donation with each visit from that day onward.

Surely, today shouldn't be any different?

Reaching into one of the pouches on his belt, Adrien pulled out a single copper farthing. It was all he had left since he left Nottingham Castle, and he had never kept any of the coin taken from his recent Cat Noir heists.

Adrien smiled and clenched the farthing tightly in his fingers. Then he walked over to the downhearted Friar Fu.

The priest looked up as the lordling approached.

"Take this," Adrien said, offering the copper coin. "I know it's not much, but it's all I have."

Friar Fu's grey eyebrows rose. "Your last farthing? Adrien... no. I couldn't..."

The lordling shook his head; firm but not unkind. "I was saving it for a rainy day. Well... now it's raining." He gestured to the splattered window with a lopsided grin. "Please, Friar Fu, take it. For the poor." Adrien hoped the priest would see the earnest sincerity in his eyes.

Friar Fu stared at the boy blankly. Then, a deep smile creased his face and he accepted the generous gift. "Oh, son. No one can give more than that."

He popped the coin into the poor box, and it clattered inside with a satisfying CLINK.

Then, the old monk pulled Adrien into a grateful hug, squeezing him tight. "Bless you, my boy," Fu sighed.

Adrien smiled as he hugged him back.

But the moment he opened his eyes and looked out the distorted window, his smile dropped and he gasped.

For there were five shapes coming up the hill along the muddy road: five figures in dark, soaking cloaks. Each one carried a sword at his belt, and they all marched in perfect unison up the trail.

"Soldiers!" Adrien rasped.

Mylene squealed before covering her mouth. Ivan pulled her close.

Friar Fu turned to look out the window. Two seconds later, he faced Adrien as though he were facing God himself. "You must hide," he whispered bravely. "The confessional. Hurry!"

Adrien didn't want to leave the priest and his acolytes alone with Chloe's men, but he knew there was no time and no point in arguing. He was a wanted fugitive. If the guards knew the Friar was aiding Adrien, he would be arrested and punished, man of the church or not.

Adrien's black cloak unfurled behind him as he raced for the tall, brown cabinet in the side of the room. He slipped inside and sealed the door just as he heard the whinnying of horses coming from outside.

"Ivan, come stand here," Adrien heard Friar Fu whisper. "Mylene, keep sweeping. Look busy."

Adrien's heart pounded, and he forced himself to breathe steadily as he sat in the darkness. There was a thick layer of lattice on the door, through which tiny lights poked through like stars. Adrien eased forward and squinted through the criss-crossed mesh, making out just enough of the hall.

The front door burst open, making Adrien jump, and a thick booming voice called, "Howdy, Friar!"

If he hadn't been hiding, Adrien would have whipped his daggers out then and there. Instead, he just growled lowly through his teeth.

Clunking footsteps echoed through the room, and a broad, blue figure emerged.

Even through the lattice, Adrien knew who the church's unruly guest was.

"What does that big-bellied bully want here?" Ivan grumbled heatedly.

"Ivan, shh!" Mylene warned.

Friar Fu's hunched form stepped out to meet Roger, his cane tapping hard against the floor with each step. "Good afternoon, Sheriff," the priest said. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"

"Oh, you owe me somethin', all right," Roger said matter-of-factly. "Information."

"Forgive me, but I don't... what's the phrase the young-ins use? "Catch your meaning"?"

Roger grunted before he carried on. "You were particularly close to Ladybug's father – that posh baker who died of the shivers a few years back. What was his name again?" He snapped his fingers. "Tom! Yes, that's the one! Big feller, moustache, always gave me free cupcakes."

Anger flared in Adrien's chest, but he swallowed it back down.

Friar Fu cleared his throat. "Yes. Tom was a good man, and a dear friend," he said coolly. "But pray tell, Sheriff – of what consequence is this "information" to you?"

Roger snorted and started surveying the hall.

Adrien peered out as best he could to see if any of the other guards were inside. He found none.

"I have reason to believe you've been Ladybug's informer on the nobles coming and going through Sherwood, allowing her to rob them at the appropriate time and then disappear without a trace," Roger explained. "It's quite the cover-up, I must say. No one would ever suspect a priest to be a spy." The Sheriff straightened up and turned to Friar Fu with that smarmy grin of his. "And you have a reasonable motive. Tom was your friend. Why wouldn't you help his criminal of a daughter, if not to honour his memory?"

Ignore him, Adrien spoke in his own thoughts. Words mean nothing.

But Friar Fu didn't think so, because then his voice darkened. "That's quite an accusation coming from you, Sheriff. Need I point out that it was you who tried to drag that poor child out of her own home, against her will, when she barely had one day to grieve for her father?"

Adrien inhaled sharply.

"What was that?" Roger snapped around, his hand on the pommel of his sword.

"It's called an echo, my good Sheriff," Friar Fu replied immediately. "Sound travels in great halls such as this."

Adrien smirked.

Roger appeared to be having a stare-down with the old priest. For a moment, the only sounds came from the raging rainstorm outside, which was starting to get worse.

Finally, the Sheriff turned away and strutted over to the table on the far side. There was a small creaking sound, like rusty hinges being opened, and then Roger hummed with intrigue. "Well, now... What have we got here?"

Adrien stiffened when he saw the fat git turn around, and something small sparkled in his hand. The single farthing!

"What... Now just a minute, Sheriff!" Friar Fu blurted out incredulously. "That's the poor box!"

"It sure is," Roger noted with amusement, tossing the coin up before catching it. "And I'll just take it for poor Princess Chloe. Every little bit helps." He chuckled and stashed his newfound catch in his jiggling pouch.

It was an effort for Adrien to not burst out of the cabinet and tackle Roger to the ground. But the lordling refused to move or rage or even groan with defeat. It would only prove Roger's suspicions about Friar Fu to be true, and get him and his acolytes arrested for treason.

So Adrien sat in stewing silence, biting on his lip and clenching his fists.

"Oohh...!" Mylene growled before pointing an accusatory finger at Roger. "You put that coin back!"

Ivan gently seized her by the shoulders and pulled her away.

Thankfully, Roger clasped his hands together and bowed to Mylene. "And Princess Chloe blesses you too, little sister." He smiled and gave his coin pouch a good shake, as usual.

Until Friar Fu snapped, "You thieving scoundrel!"

Adrien accidentally bumped the side of the cabinet with his elbow, and he held his breath. Luckily, Roger was too astounded by Friar Fu's outburst to notice the sound.

"First, you come in here accusing of me of aiding a wanted fugitive," Fu declared, "and now you see fit to desecrate the sanctity of God's church?!"

The Sheriff folded his arms with indifference. "Now, take it easy, Friar," he said casually. "I'm just doing my duty."

The priest scoffed at that. "Duty?" he repeated with an icy menace Adrien had never heard him use before. "Collecting taxes for that greedy, heartless, subservient, spoiled child you call your princess?"

Mylene gasped. Ivan winced.

Adrien gulped.

Roger reeled, his blue eyes going wide before narrowing ruthlessly at the priest. "Listen, Friar, you're being mighty preachy." He waved a finger in Friar Fu's face, making the latter step back. "You best mind what you say, or you're gonna preach your neck right into the hangman's noose... right beside your dead friend's little brat."

Adrien swore the entire church grew cold at that moment, sucking all the warmth right out of his marrow.

Then, like a crack of lightning, Friar Fu bellowed, "GET OUT OF MY CHURCH!"

There was the sound of wood whacking against skin, followed by Roger howling and cursing, followed by more whacking. The grunts and shouts faded away, vanishing through the open door of the church.

"Oh, my heavens!" Mylene cried. "Ivan, stop him! He's going to hurt himself!"

Footsteps pattered along the stone floor, and then silence filled the hall.

Only then did Adrien take in a deep, shuddering breath. This isn't good, he thought as panic rose up inside him.

It was quickly replaced by a wave of slow, icy rage.

Any self-respecting outlaw would have opened the door to the confessional, snuck out the church, and hurried off into the rainstorm while the Sheriff and his soldiers were distracted.

But Cat Noir was anything but self-respecting. And this time, the claws were coming out.

Lightning flashed across the darkening sky, making the ground beneath Master Fu's feet shudder.

He ignored it as he advanced on Sheriff Roger like a demon raised from hell, swinging his cane wildly.

Roger finally took the hint that he was being attacked and drew his sword. Another flash of lightning ignited along the blade, and the Sheriff pointed it at him with gritted teeth. He was obviously trying to frighten the old man into surrendering.

But Friar Fu was tired of holding back; tired of letting this brute get away with everything. Roger had relentlessly hunted Marinette as if she were a prized doe! He had made the last months of Tom's life miserable with his tax hoarding, and now more lives were suffering because of him!

Rain soaked the Friar's hair and robes, and squishy mud gathered around his boots. He was shivering something fierce. But still, he pressed on.

"You want taxes?!" Friar Fu growled. "I'll show you taxes, you gluttonous fiend!" And with that, he swung his cane again.

Roger blocked every blow with his sword, his eyes hysterical.

At the threshold of the church entrance, Mylene stood and watched, clutching her arms anxiously.

Ivan came up behind Friar Fu and pounded his fists into the air. "Give it to him! Give it to him, Friar!"

As they duelled, the Sheriff's four cloaked guards encircled the pair like vultures encircling a juicy carcass. Ivan noticed them and raised his fists, glaring at them... until all four of them drew their own swords.

Friar Fu kept striking Roger's blade... until the muscles in his arms and back stiffened suddenly, roaring in pain. Fu cried out and staggered back, loosing his good grip on his cane.

The Sheriff saw his opening, and smacked the cane clean out of Fu's hands.

Mylene cried out, "No!"

The blow sent the priest falling backwards into the mud. He groaned and tried to get up, but his arms refused to obey him now. Whatever rage had burned inside him earlier was now snuffed out like a flame on a candlewick. Friar Fu slipped and slid in the mud as he struggled to move away from the Sheriff.

But Roger was already towering over him, grinning despite the fact that he was soaked. A bolt of lightning appeared behind him, turning his silhouette into a demonic shadow.

"Get away from him!" Ivan yelled, but the other guards blocked his path, swords raised.

Friar Fu felt a heavy rush of shame engulf him. Pain and sorrow glistened in his teary eyes. Lord have mercy... What have I done?

Roger pointed the tip of his blade at the priest's chin. "You're under arrest for treason to the crown!" he stated with a sneer.

Suddenly, a shadow swept over Friar Fu's eyes, and he looked away to shield his face.

There was a bone-rattling CLANG of metal upon metal, and then the sickening splash of a body collapsing onto mud.

Friar Fu opened his eyes, and looked up at his saviour.

If the priest hadn't known any better, he would have sworn this black warrior standing before him was a living shadow sent by God. His hood was pulled down over his eyes, his cloak flapped like a flag in the angry wind, and the metal staff he grasped in his hands gleamed like a rod of silver light.

Until the figure glanced behind him at the old man, who saw a boy's face staring at him... with brilliant green eyes.

Adrien turned back to the fallen Sheriff, making sure to stand between him and Friar Fu. He crouched low on his knees like a wildcat preparing to pounce.

"Picking on a helpless old man?" the lordling mused with a cold tone. "Somebody needs to learn some manners."

Roger, groaning from the unexpected attack, clutched his arm and sat up, glaring at Adrien. "I knew it..." he hissed. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you showed your snivelling face around here. I'm gonna get a medal for this. Men!" he bellowed to his guards. "Arrest them both!"

The soldiers closed in.

Friar Fu desperately tried to stand, to no avail. "Run, Adrien!" he pleaded. "Forget about me! Just RUN!"

But Adrien, ever loyal to his friends, whirled his staff and parried with the soldiers' swords before slipping under their defences and knocking them down. He ducked and twirled and slid, using the terrain to his advantage. He kicked one man in the gut and struck him on the back with his staff.

Then, he snapped around to Friar Fu. Unbending courage swirled like tidal waves in those pools of green.

Adrien smiled... and then looked over Fu's shoulder. "Get him out of here," he commanded.

Friar Fu barely had time to register the boy's words before two strong hands scooped up the priest and carried him away faster than a startled horse.

Ivan.

And Mylene. The Friar heard her panting beside him as she rasped, "The woods! Make for the woods!"

The hard jogging made Fu's vision blurry, but he could just make out Roger and his men rising up from the ground like black wraiths, blocking Adrien from view.

Then... leaves.

Fu saw waves of leaves above him, dark green against the backdrop of stormy black. Instead of a downpour, he felt only a few bits of water drip onto his face.

They were in Sherwood Forest.

Friar Fu jerked himself into reality. "No!" he cried, too weak to struggle against Ivan's hold. "We have to back! Adrien! Adrien!"

To his relief, Ivan stopped running. But the strong acolyte didn't let go, and grief coated his wet face.

"I'm sorry, Friar," Ivan said with a heavy heart. "It's too late. Look."

Despite knowing the inevitable, Friar Fu prayed for a miracle as he looked beyond the shelter of trees towards Nottinghill.

Adrien was still fighting, his dirt-streaked face scrunched like a knight in battle. His clothes were covered in mud patches, as was his staff. His hood had slipped off, so now Adrien's hair whipped around his eyes like golden flames.

Two of the soldiers were lying on the ground again, moaning in great pain.

But Roger and the other two were on their feet and bearing down heavily on the brave young lordling.

Adrien knocked one of them away, and then snapped around to his other opponent... but not quick enough.

A tall guard slammed Adrien with his shield, causing the boy to stumble back... right into Roger's awaiting arms.

The Sheriff got the boy in full headlock, and Adrien thrashed and kicked out with his feet.

No prayers or pleas for mercy could save him now.

Roger muttered something with gritted teeth into Adrien's ear. Then, he released the boy... and smacked him on the back of the head with the pommel of his sword.

Adrien stiffened, then relaxed and fell to the ground. The mud cushioned his fall, but he remained motionless at the Sheriff's feet.

Friar Fu thought his heart would stop beating, and he sank to his knees.

"Oh, no..." Mylene murmured. She buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

Ivan was immediately holding her. "There, there..." he whispered, his voice strained.

Friar Fu shook his head. His tears vanished into the rainwater coating his cheeks. "This is all my fault." He clasped his hands to his aching chest. "Adrien... Forgive me."

He kneeled there in the dirt as he watched Roger's men bind Adrien's hands and feet with rope. Then, one of them hoisted the unconscious lordling over his shoulder and lifted him up.

"Sir?" another guard called to the Sheriff. He had a bruised eye and a small limp in his leg, courtesy of Adrien. "What about the priest? Should we go after him?"

"Leave the old man," Roger grumbled. "He's not a threat to us anymore. Besides..." He sneered at their new prisoner. "We have something even better."

The Sheriff straightened, sheathed his sword, and gestured with a wave of his hand. "Back to the castle!" he barked. "I want to get out of this stinking rain!"

Though wet, filthy, and miserable, the four guards obeyed without question and followed the Sheriff back down the road in single-file, carrying Adrien with them.

They shrank into the distance and vanished beyond the hill. More thunder shuddered through the air – a grim omen.

The patter of rain and Mylene's sobs did nothing to ease Friar Fu's grief either. What was he thinking, charging at Roger in such a fury? The moment the Sheriff had threatened Marinette, Fu lost all sense he had. Now, Adrien was Chloe's prisoner... and it was all because of the Friar's folly.

But if God taught him anything, it was that false actions could be forgiven. And those who sought to right their wrongs must first forgive themselves.

Brow furrowing, Friar Fu said softly, "Help me up, Ivan."

The tall, dark-haired acolyte reluctantly released Mylene and lifted his master to his feet. Mylene watched through tear-streaked eyes, sniffling and fiddling with her fingers.

Then, Friar Fu said staunchly, "Send carrier pigeons to the rest of our friends. Tell them to come to the old bakery at once. Time is of the essence."