It was possible. Meanwhile, the captain shifted his jaw about, a hard jaw. “Alright, let’s try it another way. Morg, break one of their arms.”

There was no time, they needed more time. A guard moved in, a mountain more meat than man, and snatched Friar Tuck from them.

“No, take me,” John protested, but the huge gord just smiled and swung Tuck like a doll, twisting his arm harshly and awaiting Gisbourne’s command.

“Let’s try again, now. I wouldn’t recommend you lie more than … twice.” Gisbourne counted Tuck’s arms obviously with his fingers. “Where are the rest of your men, and where is Jon Bassett? Easy questions. It is in your best interest to help us, brother. I’m looking out for my people. You can look out for yours. So tell me truly, where are they?”

Elena tried to peek out of the corner of her eyes for any sign of commotion from the village.

The friar looked up, as well as he could, his cheeks hanging low. But his eyes were wet and bright. “As God is my witness, this is everyone. And we sent your man home. If you won’t believe me, then do what you will.”

He closed his eyes.

The captain turned to the skinny man in the light cloak. “What do you think?”

This man was tall and gaunt, and when he spoke it was without inflection, slow and bored. “I can’t think of a single reason why we should believe a word any of them say.”

“You’re learning quickly,” Gisbourne said lightly. And then, to the brute, “Go on then, break it.”

“No!” Will shouted, along with Alan.

“If you won’t believe us anyways then what’s the point?” Arthur roared, but midsentence Tuck’s arm snapped back, impossibly too far, the sickening crack drowned by his gasping scream.

Rage.

“He still has another arm!” Gisbourne bit at them instantly, “So who would like to tell me another lie?”

Elena couldn’t think, she was watching Tuck, dangling from the arm still held by the guard. He had passed out from the pain.

Gisbourne pulled a long thin knife from his boot, “What should we take after his arms?”

Elena was yelling something, but she wasn’t sure what, and she couldn’t even hear herself over the noise the others were making, all anger and regret.

“Where’s Jon Bassett? Where’s Robin of Locksley?” Gisbourne shouted over them as the guard grabbed Tuck’s other arm.

“There’s one more! There’s only one!” John bellowed.

No, not Much.

Gisbourne smiled. “You see how easy the truth is? You could have said as much ten seconds ago and the good friar would be much happier. That’s on you, not me. Very well, where is he?”

John swallowed, and stood up. Some guards took a step forward, others one back.