Do you know the rogue?” Robin saw the man was wearing the brown habit of a friar. “I’ve heard of him,” Robin replied. “Now will you let me up?” But the friar put his foot on Robin’s chest and would not let him move. “Tell me where I can find him and I might let you live, by God’s good grace,” said the friar, pressing the point of his sword into Robin’s neck just enough to draw blood. “Across the river and just keep going,” said Robin. “You won’t find him. He’ll find you. And when he does, friend, you’d better watch out. He doesn’t much like friars, especially the rich, fat ones.” The friar laughed and twisted the blade of his sword. “Does he not indeed? Well now, that’s mighty unfortunate because as you see I’m very fat, and I’m very rich too, as it happens, by God’s good grace. In my sack here I have all the silver and gold I could steal. I suppose I’d be about the richest, fattest friar you’ll ever be likely to meet. And do you know something else, young man?
