AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do you still consider yourself a warrior of Christ, Tucker? Are you fighting for Him?”
My headshake was swift. “I don’t. I’m fighting for her.”
Lines creased his forehead. “Who?”
“Doesn’t concern you.”
I offered my palm to him.
He took it, and I helped him sit up. The cacophony of battle around us was starting to die down, as either the Merry Men or the Nottingham watch were victorious, dead, or sounding the retreat.
I couldn’t get caught here. Not with this man. Not when so many had seen me on that stage. After today, it’s all over. I’ll never be welcomed back to Nottingham. Not after so many have seen my face and seen what I’m capable of.
For years, I maintained the identity of an affable friar who loved drinking, whoring, gambling, and protecting children from those same vices. Now . . . I will be nothing but a criminal to these people.
A criminal to the man in front of me, who still manages to maintain that affable reputation despite his years of service under God’s watchful eye.
“How do you do it?” I blurted.
The furrow in his brow deepened.
“Never mind,” I said, and looked over my shoulder.
His voice went low. “Why are you doing this?”
I returned my eyes to his face, glowering. “Those men with nooses around their necks are innocent, Father, and you know it. At the very least, they’re innocent of being Merry Men.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He cleared his throat, as if to point out he was surprised I wasn’t hurting him.
“Oh.” I took a deep breath—the first I’d taken in many long minutes. “When I nailed Brother Hudson’s hands to the cathedral doors years ago, Father . . . you were the one bishop in the region who voted not to excommunicate me.”
“Yet you were still exiled from the Church.”
“Why did you do it? Why did you help me?”
“I suppose I saw potential in you. A true soldier of God’s Word.”
“And now?”
He snorted. “Now you soldier for someone else. For pride, yourself, and your allies.”
“Are you calling me selfish for finding a new purpose? Can you blame me, after how the Church treated me?”
He shook his head. Sadness flattened his features as his eyes dropped. “Brother Hudson was not the only priest guilty of his sins, Tucker.”
“Aye. He was the one I caught. If I’d caught the others—”
“You’d have done the same to them. I know.” He patted my knee in a heartfelt way.
I tapped Crisp’s chest next to us. “Give this man a prayer before you leave, Bishop Sutton. I implore you to send him to Heaven with your holy words.”
The bishop’s frown was tight. Sadder than before. “Oh, Tucker. I’m afraid that man isn’t going there.” He gazed around blankly at the battlefield of blood, peasants, and soldiers. Dying men and women, crying out for aid. “. . . I’m afraid none of us are.”
I wobbled from my knees to my feet, groaning. With a quick nod, I said, “Stay safe, Father,” and retreated.
I surveyed the field. There was still a smattering of fighting going on. Will charged down the stairs, hopping like he’d never been happier. He was spry, covered in blood that I assumed wasn’t his.
Over his shoulder, Alan-a-Dale was on the stage, cutting the nooses from the three prisoners still living. The first one had died, strangled when the crate was kicked out from under his feet. The last—the albino man I knew as Dan the Dove—was gone, apparently escaping after the fight broke out.
