Tuck by Stephen R. Lawhead Read Free Book Online

this realm—or die in the attempt.”
    Bran gave a downward jerk of his chin by way of acknowledgement of Iwan’s pledge, and continued. “Let us speak freely now, holding nothing back. As we must stand together in the days to come, let us share our hearts and minds.” He paused to let his listeners gather their thoughts. “So now.” He spread his hands. “Who will begin?”
    Tuck was first to find his voice. “To speak plain, I am grieved in heart, soul, and mind since the attack in the grove—and any man who said otherwise is a liar. Our King William has proven himself a greedy, grasping rogue and a stranger to all honour. If that was not a bitter enough brew to swallow, our Ffreinc overlords have shown us that they will attack with impunity, little respecting women and children—”
    “Devil take them all,” muttered Siarles.
    “Nevertheless,” the friar continued, raising a hand for silence, “I have bethought myself time and time again, and it seems to me that if our enemies have any tender feelings within reach of their cold hearts, it may be that they are even now sorely regretting that rash act.”
    “What are you saying, Tuck?” asked Bran softly.
    “It would be well to send Abbot Hugo an offer of peace.”
    “Peace!” scoffed Bran. “On my father’s grave, a moment’s peace they will not have from me.”
    “I know! My lord, I know—they have earned damnation ten times over. Is there anyone here who does not know it? But, I pray you, do not dismiss the notion outright.”
    Tuck turned to appeal to those gathered beneath the oak boughs. “See here, it is not for our enemies that I make this plea—it is for us and for our good. The pursuit of war is a dire and terrible waste—of life and limb, blood and tears. It maims all it touches. Maybe we gain justice in the end, maybe not. No one knows how it will end. But, know you, we will lose much that we hold dear long ’ere we reach the end, and of that we can be more than certain.”
    “We have little to lose, it seems to me,” remarked Iwan.
    “True enough,” Tuck allowed, “but it is always possible to lose even that little, is it not? Think you now—if war could be avoided, we might be spared that loss. By pursuing peace as readily as war, we might even gain the outcome we seek—and is that not a thing worth the risk of trying?”
    Tuck’s plea fell into silence even as he implored the others to at least consider what he had said. No one, so it appeared, shared his particular sentiment.
    “Our priest is right to speak so,” said Mérian, moving to stand beside the little cleric. “War with the Ffreinc will mean the deaths of many—maybe all of us. But if death and destruction can be avoided, we must by all means try—for the sake of those who will be hurt by what we decide today, we must make an offer of peace.”
    “Offer peace?” wondered Scarlet aloud. “That’s begging for trouble with a dog and bowl.”
    “Aye, trouble and worse,” growled Siarles. “If you have no stomach for the fight ahead, maybe you should both join Henwydd and his band of cowards. They’re not so far ahead that you couldn’t catch ’em up.”
    “Coward? Is that what you think?” asked Tuck, voicing the question to the whole gathering. “Is that what everyone thinks?”
    “I don’t say it is, I don’t say it en’t,” replied Siarles. “But the shoe fits him who made it.”
    “Enough, both of you. Courage is not at issue here,” Bran pointed out. “I was willing to swear fealty to William Rufus. Indeed, I encouraged my father to do so, and we would not be here now if he had listened to me and acted before it was too late . . .”
    “Do you not see?” said Mérian. “You’re in danger of becoming just like your father—too proud and stubborn for the good of your people. And, like your father, you will die at the end of a Norman spear.” She put out a slender hand and softened her tone. “Red William is a false king; that is