"We are far from them," Geoffrey protested, "and none can see us."
"There is no hazard, Fess," Cordelia pleaded. " Tis not as though we did attempt to fight them."
"Not yet," the black horse muttered.
"The bandits slacken their pace," Gregory reported.
Geoffrey twisted out of Magnus's hold and stepped up next to his little brother. "Thou canst not know they are bandits!"
"Who else would dress so slovenly, yet bear arms?" Gregory answered.
The bandits slowed, seeing the weapons, but still came on to surround the monks on three sides, grinning. "Dost'a truly think to bear weapons 'gainst us, men of God?" The tallest bandit made the last three words an insult.
The lead monk stepped forward a pace. "We hope not to. Who art thou, and what is thy business?"
For some reason the bandits seemed to think this was hilarious. They broke into guffaws, and the tallest one said, "Why, we are gentleman, good friar—canst thou not tell by our comely appearance and costly garments?"
"Thou dost mean thou art bandits." The lead monk let a touch of contempt show. "Well, I am Father Boquilva. What dost thou think thou canst have of us?"
The bandit's grin turned into a snarl. "Have? Why, only such goods as thou dost own, gentle monk—all of them."
Father Boquilva shrugged. "Take all thou canst find that is ours, and welcome—Christ will provide us with more."
The bandits stared at him, not believing their ears. Then the leader's grin widened with a chuckle. "The more fools thou, then! Come!" He trotted off toward the house, beckoning to his men. "The sheep are primed for shearing!"
The other bandits jogged after him.
The monks watched them go. "I do not think they will take my breviary," said one.
An older monk shrugged. "If they do, what of it? I can pen it anew for thee, from memory."
"Wherefore do they give way so easily!" Geoffrey hissed.
"They have staves and helms! How can they care so little for their goods?"
"They are men of the spirit," Gregory answered. "Things of wood and stone mean little to them."
"Who asked thee, wight!"
"Then I'll ask thee." Gregory frowned. "How can men so godly take up weapons?"
"There is, unfortunately, precedent for it," Fess sighed. "Monks of every religion have, sooner or later, learned to fight—or taken weapons."
" 'Tis shields they take up now." Magnus's hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Mayhap they but sought time to arm."
Geoffrey spun to stare, then shook his head. "Only shields. There's not so much as a paring knife among them."
"The bandits come," Cordelia said, with dread.
Indeed they did, boiling out of the house with yells of rage. "What mockery is this!" the biggest bandit demanded as he pounded up to Father Boquilva. "Hast thou naught but meal and pease?"
The priest nodded at another robber. "I see that thou hast found my missal. Take it, an thou wilt; Christ will provide."
The bandit threw it away with an oath.
Father Boquilva's jaw firmed. "There is naught more, save a little meat, some sacramental vessels, and each man's curios."
"Naught more, is it?" The bandit grinned and held up a dirty sack. "What of this?" He lifted a golden chalice.
"One of the sacramental vessels I but now spoke of." The lead monk paled. "That is not ours—'tis God's. I pray thee, place it back upon the altar from which thou hast taken it!"
"Thou hast but now said Christ will provide. He hath, then, provided us with this bauble of His."
"Assuredly thou wilt not desecrate a chapel!"
"Wherefore—would not God wish to share with the poor?"
"Thou dost blaspheme. Give back that sacred cup—or wouldst thou violate the Lord's house?"
"Nay, but I'll steal from thine! What else hast thou hid here, eh?"
"Naught, though thou hast missed our glass cruets. Thou hast in thine hand such gold as we do hold."
"I'll not credit thee," the robber snarled, "sin that thou hast already withheld this from me. Nay, speak!" He slashed a backhanded blow into Father Boquilva's face. The priest's head rocked, and his face darkened, but he struggled against anger and won. The robber growled and raised his hand again, but as he swung, the priest's arm shot out, blocking the blow as he kicked the robber's feet out from under him. The bandit fell heavily as his men shouted, "Hold!"
"Nay, now!"
"Leave off!" and leaped forward, swords slashing and staves whirling.
But the monks swung up their shields, and the swords clunked into layers of toughened hide. One bandit aimed a terrific double-handed quarterstaff blow at a monk's head, but the holy man swung up his shield, and the staff cracked into its covering. The bandit used the bounce to swing it higher.
Another bandit reached out and yanked at a shield; the monk behind it stumbled, and the bandit's staff swung in a short, vicious arc. The blow rang off the monk's helmet, and he staggered, dazed.
"They do but ward off blows!" Geoffrey cried. "These monks have staves; wherefore do they not strike back?"
"And there are half again as many bandits as monks!" Cordelia added, despairing.
The two swordsmen had wrestled their weapons free and were circling their target monks.
"Geoffrey," Fess said with sudden foreboding, "do not dare to—"
The boy shot out of the thicket, yowling before the horse could finish the sentence.
"Geoffrey!" Fess moaned in despair.
"Nay, brother!" Magnus shouted. " 'Tis no quarrel of— Oh, devil take it! He's in the broil!"
Geoffrey had caught up the dazed monk's staff and was swinging at a bandit, enraged. The man leaped back in sheer surprise; then his face darkened, and he advanced.
"Nay, thou fiend! Stand away from my brother!" Magnus bellowed as he, too, charged out of the wood.
"Magnus!" Fess wailed. "Oh, children! How could you!" But he was thundering out of the brush as he said it.
"What? Shall we alone stay quiet?" Cordelia cried. "Nay!" She leaped on her broomstick and darted off into the fray.
Gregory prudently stayed in the shadows, but he stared at a fist-sized rock, and it stirred, lurched, then shot up off the ground to brain a bandit.
Geoffrey's robber swung his stick high to smash the boy— but Magnus leaped up, caught the staff on the backswing, and yanked hard, throwing all his weight into it. The bandit staggered back and spun about, wide-eyed. He saw Magnus and bared his teeth, lifting his staff… and Geoffrey landed on his shoulders, yanking back on his head. The bandit roared and stepped back, and Magnus hooked a foot behind his heel. The man crashed down, arms windmilling.
One monk was down with a bandit standing over him, staff poised for a deathblow. Cordelia shot into his face, screaming, and the bandit leaped back with a yell of fright. Then he saw his attacker was only a little girl, and raised his staff with blood in his eye.
Fess reached out and caught the man's collar with steel teeth. He yanked and spun, and the man went flying with a howl.
"Spoilsport!" Cordelia shouted.
Father Boquilva saw her and stared, appalled. A quick glance showed him two more children in the thick of the fight. He bellowed, "Children! Brothers, ask not—protect them! Strike!"
The monks didn't turn to look, but their staves were suddenly whirling blurs. They lashed out with hollow knocks, and bandits cried out; two toppled. The staves whirled again.
Four bandits jumped on Magnus and Geoffrey. Fess charged into their midst, screaming, and the men leaped back, yelling with fright, as the steel hooves lashed out at them. But behind Fess Geoffrey cried, "A rescue!" as the lead bandit yanked him up above his head to throw. Fess whirled to lash out at the man, and Geoffrey fell, flipping over to land on his feet—but the four bandits shouted with victory and pounced on Magnus. Fess spun about to counter them, but suddenly froze, poised in mid movement like a statue; then his forefeet thudded down and his legs spraddled outward stiffly as his head plummeted to swing between his fetlocks.