Lady Duhrem twittered on and Marian felt a twinge in her lower back as it too joined the ranks of bodily appendages on revolt. They had been sitting here for simply hours gossiping about absolutely nothing of significance. Didn't these women know that the taxes were at this very moment being renegotiated for the betterment of the shire?

"...Lady Locksley?" Marian was startled out of her internal dialogue and made an effort not to show her bad mood.

"I'm sorry Lady Fountbeof I was elsewhere just now."

The young girl gave a simpering smile. "I was saying that I haven't seen lace quite like yours (here she touched one delicate hand to the hem of her bodice to indicate her own flamboyant décor) for several years."

Marian felt a simmering frustration at this pettiness directed at her absent husband and the petulant hostess. "That's understandable, my'lady. This was my mother's gown."

"Oh...how quaint..."

"Of course," Marian cut in as the silence surrounding the slight grew awkward. "Fashion is quite overstated in Westminster and London than it is in our Northern shires, you will find. It is more fashionable here to be able to eat, to tend to the needs of the sick, as I'm sure you are aware." Her words were punctuated by her needle's sharp staccato into her fabric.

Lady Duhrem caught Marian's eye and smiled warmly. Marian felt a burst of kinship with the old crone, Lady Duhrem never liked these women meetings much either, when the men were away deciding business. But etiquette and caution dictated it. John was regent and there were protocols that must be followed for his gentry to remain - and Marian reminded herself, their position in Locksley was insecure at best.

Lady Fountbeof trilled a shrill laugh. "But of course, I did hear the stories from afar. Such fairytales of mythical heroism."

Ahh yes, the stories. Some of them myths of a legend that spoke of a lady and lord of the greenwood, others were rumours designed to discredit a woman's reputation and besmirch a man's honour. But neither told the truth of the tale; one that wasn't, at the same time, so pure nor so corrupted.

Marian stabbed her needle rather forcefully into the centre of her work and directed her gaze onto her hapless host. "Pray, what did you hear, Lady Fountbeof? I will endeavour to enlighten you."

Lady Fountbeof was silent for a moment, the sound of horses entering the courtyard below amplified around their little room. Marian knew that there were several unseemly questions that were running through the minds of all those present – but thankfully courtesy and etiquette protected her from those, for now.

"Is it true that you married an outlaw?"

Ah, the most tamest of the questions. She looked out the window and saw the men dismounting. Finally, she would be able to leave soon.

"Ah but of course," Marian said turning her bright smile on her bewildered host. "But truly, it was more, an outlaw married an outlaw."

There was a chuckle outside their window and Marian turned to see a pair of sparkling hazel eyes.

"That is so, my lady, much to my good fortune. Now, would you care to take this man and this horse as your route out of here?"

Marian laughed at her husband's exuberance in such company. But then shrugged it off, they were known hereabouts for their eccentric ways. So without further ado, she gathered her skirts in one hand and mounted the window sill. With the ladies behind her gasping in horror at her actions, Marian slipped from the second story window onto the horse behind her husband.

She arranged her skirts about her composedly ignoring the looks from the startled noblemen and women surrounding them. Robin turned toward her and raised an eyebrow.

"Having fun?"

"I will never be so happy as to see Sherwood Forest again and never leave it."

"It is good fortune than that we live nearby it."

Marian turned her head, she could hear that insufferable Lady Fountbeof whispering just above them. She curled an arm around her husband's warm waist and planted a kiss on his roughly stubbled cheek. He looked tired. Marian never worried about their public affection for each other - and truth be told she sometimes reveled in it - for a moment she almost pitied the insolent young Lady Fountbeof, because she would never have what they had.

"Come on mine outlaw," Marian whispered into his ear. "Let's go home."