SUBMISSION. Fall 2016 | Page 13

chasing the merry men through the depths of Sherwood. I lost everything I held dear in the years that NWTTW_ML1_Q[P1KW]TLPI^MIK\MLLQ‫ٺ‬MZMV\Ta1_Q[P I knew then what I know now.” “Merry men,” Tuck sneered. “That’s what you think, isn’t it? That’s what your retainers and sycophants whispered in your ear at court? The men who came to Sherwood were anything but merry. They were debtors and vagabonds, the starving dregs of England following the last shadow of hope. Some had to be killed the day they arrived, so far had they fallen. It took years to meld them together into something that bore the semblance of a brotherhood, and even then, it was a hideous mockery. When Robin died, they scattered. The shepherd was stricken down, and the sheep were lost!” ¹AW]U][\]VLMZ[\IVLº\PM;PMZQ‫ٺ‬XTMILML¹5a W‫ٻ‬KM¸UaNIUQTaUaPW][MUaLM[KMVLIV\[¼ future—all of it was at risk! Change was coming to England, and I knew that I would have been swept aside in its wake otherwise.” “You could have left us be,” Tuck said softly. His face was human again. He sat down again, and struck the palm of his hand against the dirt in frustration. “That was all we ever wanted, to be left to ourselves. Just us and Sherwood, us and the deer, us and a few sacks of gold liberated from passing nobles who had never earned anything by the sweat of their brow.” Tuck glanced up. “That is all I want now too, SherQ‫ٺ‬1_IV\\WJMTMN\PMZMITWVM1XMZNWZU\PMTI[\ rites for the local village—I, the crazy hermit who spends his days fasting and meditating.” “What happened to you?” The words were out of the friar’s mouth before he could stop them. MZa_MTT;PMZQ‫;ٺ‬Q\QN aW]_QTT1_QTTPMIZaW]Z sins.” “Without judgement?” Tuck smiled sadly. “We all must eventually face our faults before the Lord. When that hour comes, I will embrace it. I will not have it said that Friar Tuck drank