Lady Outlaw

Chapter 34

Rufford Abbey, Nottinghamshire

After six years travelling Europe and spreading the Lord's word to the poor and the needy, Brother Tuck had felt that it was high time he returned home and ministered to his fellow countrymen. He was well aware that times were difficult in England, and men of true faith were needed to join the people together and promote kindness and solidarity, while their king fought a war in a far-off country that he had no business being in.
Brother Tuck was a strong believer in standing up to corruption and evil influence, yet he did not agree with a war that continued for far too long, and that claimed far too many innocent lives. Lionheart was needed in his own country, where a different kind of war raged on in the shires, and the upper echelons of society. There were enough wrongdoings happening here in England, and the plots to usurp King Richard were growing in strength every day he was away. Tuck promoted unity and acceptance in his sermons, and he believed devoutly in his words. He believed in a united England.
Brother Tuck had been born almost two score years ago, in the town of York. His parents were of Nubian origin; his father a visiting salt trader and his mother a slave of decorative importance. With skin the colour of the darkest mahogany, and hair of the tightest curls, now fashioned into a tonsure, Tuck had stood out amongst his peers from an early age. A simple yet intelligent type, he embraced his parents Christianity and, from an early age, was aware of his vocation. Yet, he also had self-preservation in mind, and became an expert fighter, learning from the best on his travels around Europe. Violence was not his first choice, but a black monk travelling alone was conspicuous, and there were times when he was forced to protect himself with his strength and physical agility as opposed to his wisdom and patience.
The more he learnt on his travels, the more he realised his skills were needed in his homeland, and the decision was made to return home and help where he could.
Upon alighting at Portsmouth aboard a fishing boat that had brought him from Calais, Tuck decided to spend some weeks at Westminster Abbey, before the call from the north convinced him that his journey was not yet over.
Having trained as a monk at Fountains Abbey near Ripon, in North Yorkshire, Brother Tuck longed for a place to settle his weary bones after so long on the road. The hermit life was not for him, and he felt the urge to join an order of some kind, to find a kinship among his fellow believers. Yorkshire was indeed his spiritual home, but events at Fountains in the latter years of his time there meant he could no longer return, and neither did he want to. Having entered monastic life as a Benedictine, he had baulked at the introduction of the Cistercian order, finding it a step backwards that his faith did not need. Brother Tuck was nothing if not forward thinking, believing that there was no room for austerity and corruption in his religion, and that it should be embraced by all with no fear of heavy restrictions and illusion. Therefore, although he travelled northwards, he had no final destination in mind.
On the Great North Road, he passed through Ollerton in Nottinghamshire, and met a group of monks who invited him to stay with them in their nearby monastery, Rufford Abbey. Gratefully, he accepted their hospitality, and what was initially supposed to be a bed for the night had extended to a three-week stay.
Tuck settled into monastic life admirably, if not with the odd reservation. However, this time, having learnt his lesson after his mistakes at Fountains, he accepted the order and curbed his outspoken nature, for the time being, anyway. He was happy to rest and enjoy life in Nottinghamshire.
The abbey stood in beautiful grounds amidst the great royal forest of Sherwood. Days were spent in prayer, tending to the vegetable gardens, or assisting in the brewery. Tuck grew increasingly fond of the ale the monastery made, with its fruity tones buried deep in the deliciousness of the hops. The Abbot was happy to allow him free rein within the brewery, and Tuck soon realised that there were far worse places that he could have settled in. However, he never forgot his quest. He waited patiently for God to guide him on the next step of his journey.
It was difficult to ignore the rumours about the outlaw Robin Hood, and his gang of thieves and criminals, who roamed the surrounding greenwood. Much to Tuck's surprise, they often visited the monastery, and had a special relationship with the Abbot, who fed them ale and information in exchange for coin taken from the nobles who passed through Sherwood. The money came in handy to fix a leaking roof, or hand out to villagers in need, and nobody seemed too concerned that they were ill-gotten gains.
One Thursday morning, Tuck was in the brewery, supervising the transfer of barrels of ale to the cart parked in the courtyard outside. Ten barrels were due to be delivered to Nottingham Castle later that morning, and it had fallen to Tuck to supervise the delivery.
He didn't mind; he was looking forward to leaving the abbey and seeing Nottingham town, and the castle. Although the abbey grounds were pleasant enough, Tuck was curious and had a voracious desire for travel and exploration. He was also keen to meet the Sheriff of Nottingham, whose reputation preceded him.
In all of his travels, Tuck had never met a man who was pure evil. There was always a grain of kindness hidden somewhere within. His fellow monks were adamant that Sheriff Vaisey did not have this hidden grain, but Tuck found this difficult to believe. He needed to see it for himself.
As he shouldered a barrel and turned to pass it to the village boy who assisted him, a hooded figure appeared in the doorway, casting a shadow across the stone floor.
Startled, Tuck paused, and then placed the barrel back on the ground, wiping sweat from his forehead with his robe sleeve.
"May I help you, my son?"
The newcomer lowered the hood of his leaf-green tunic and Tuck was surprised to recognise Robin Hood.
"Ah, the noble turned wolfshead," Tuck exclaimed. "I wondered when I might meet you, my friend. How may I be of assistance?"
"Brother Tuck, I believe," Robin Hood said with a smile. He moved further into the room and tapped the barrel with his toe. "This ale is bound for Nottingham Castle today, is it not?"
"It most certainly is. Why? Were you hoping to steal it for the poor?" Tuck laughed a little at his own joke, and Robin nodded then gestured behind him.
A tall, bearded man appeared in the portal behind him and crossed to pick up the barrel with ease. He gave Tuck a curt nod and turned to carry it out of the brewery to the cart. Tuck watched him go with raised eyebrows before looking at Robin, quizzically.
"I have a proposition for you," Robin Hood said.