"Do you call that crème?"
"Yes. The lumps are all the more fancy."
"That is foreigner's crème, not Anglaise crème."
"Tis a marvel, I know."
Friar Tooke grunted, he liked his crème to be straight off the top and not diddled with - the panjacks were better rustic than fancy. This was not a good omen to begin the day.
The skies were overcast and threatening again. The chill in the air had a bite that nipped the ears, and his fellow monks were all losing weight - despite the thick clots of crème they had been eating.
Ever since their torment, nigh after the Sheriff had bemused himself with his bilious comments whilst restraining them, the men had been downcast and believing themselves to have failed for becoming a'feared. Added to that was their survivor’s guilt from the battle; for all of them had brothers and fathers that had died that very day and it had only been the robes that had kept them from being slaughtered also.
They did not feel like men, and nor did they feel holy. This was a low period for them all.
"You must know that you are nit-picking about the crème," remarked Robyn in his most tedious voice - what he meant to be saying was that this was the least of their troubles.
"I do know" the monk replied wearily ... "but it fills in a day. There is nothing for us to do out here in hiding and the brothers are getting tired of it, just praying all the time. I fear that their hearts are not attached to their contemplations anymore."
"You should let them go", Robyn said unexpectedly. "The villages are in need of men - their own families are calling for ploughmen and fathers to be. Perhaps you should release them of their vows."
He was right of course, and with Tooke having heard the words now so plainly said, he felt the weight and burden of this truth.
And yet, rather than feeling defeated, he felt relieved ... for this did make realistic sense. He walked very slowly up to the encampment where the Brothers were re-beading their rosaries, and began:
"Brothers...”
* * *
There was no convincing to be made - within the hour they were packed and gone away - leaving Robyn and Tooke to now take to the road alone.
YOU ARE READING
AZLANDER - Second Nature - a modern faerie story
FantasyPuck is an Elven prince who was formerly known as Robin of the Forest (Robin Hood/Robyn Hode). He falls in love with a mortal girl and follows her soul into the Heavens and beyond ... AZLANDER tells of the spiritual worlds - of dark and glorious be...
