March, 1194

The massive doors of the great hall screeched open, startling Marian awake. Over the past few nights sleep had failed to find her and now the exhaustion was settling in.

A man crossed to where she was sitting and touched her shoulder to make sure she wasn't falling asleep again. Her eyes fluttered open, and she perceived a soldier in cloud-white robes with a blood red cross across his chest, silhouetted by the light flowing in from the doorway.

"I suppose this means I didn't receive a pardon?" she asked of the figure who, much to her surprise, laughed. "Oh, that's not funny, Much, you know that."

"If anyone has to worry, my lady Marian, it is not you."

She sat back on the bench and rested her head against the stones, gaping at the ceiling as she willed herself not to dream of sleep. Much took a seat by her side and scooted in so that she could use his bony shoulder as a pillow.

"Can't you tell me what's going on?" she yawned and patted at her lap to feel for the rolled skins she had brought with her. She pulled out one in particular, knowing it by how her fingers bumped over the many wrinkles in the old vellum. With her head on Much's shoulder, she opened the scroll to look at it, ghosting her index finger along the black and gold lines of ink that framed names and drew boxes or ovals together.

"It's almost over," Much said, "Only a few more testimonies to go, and then you can meet with Robin."

Her finger came to rest at the negative space beneath an oval and a box linked near the bottom of the scroll; she scratched at the empty spot with her nail. Much peered over at the scroll and scrounged his face; he had never learned to read.

"Have you told Robin yet?" Much asked and she shook her head. "He'll have to find out sometime; I'm not going to tell him."

Marian pressed her face into Much's arm and sighed. Everything always came back to Robin.

October 14, 1193

Guy's cryptic goodbye earlier that morning had set Marian's mind spinning. He was up to something, she was sure, and his admonition to her that "things would be better" smelled like trouble. When Allan gave her no help, she rode to Robin's camp to see what he had to say, but the deserted camp sent her into a panic. It had become clear to her what was happening: the king was finally returning to England, and the sheriff and Gisborne were going to kill him when he landed. She returned to Allan once more, begging for scraps of information.

Allan called her crazy.

Allan was against her.

Her fiancé was missing and the sheriff was planning something. She had to act now. Her skin prickled with the heat of blood rush as she knocked Allan out and unbuckled his sword belt. She could barely feel her feet beneath her as she made her way towards the sheriff's map room, as though she were going to meet Robin at the end of the hallway, instead of going to kill Vasey. Only one thing snagged her plans, and that was the black figure of Sir Guy of Gisborne.

Upon seeing Gisborne she instinctively made to hide the sword, stepping toward the wall and pulling the weapon behind her dress. If she were lucky, she could keep his eyes up so that he wouldn't notice her deception. Allan was easy to take down in a fight, especially unawares; Gisborne would put up a more competent resistance. She cursed herself for not being more aware.

"Marian, have you seen Allan?" Gisborne asked.

"Allan?" She crossed her free hand over her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. "No. Why, should I have?"

"We're supposed to leave within the next few hours, and yet I can't find him anywhere."

"Have you checked the kitchen? I think he's seeing a girl who works there – maybe he wants to say goodbye." She smiled to punctuate the story.

"Maybe," Gisborne conceded, crossing his arms and sitting back on his heels like he wanted to make conversation. Marian, who could see the doorway into the sheriff's room just at the end of the hall, wanted to scream. "Marian, I had wanted to talk with you again before I left." He reached for the arm she was keeping close to the wall. Without thinking, she drew back.

She attempted to cover her misstep, but not before he noticed her withdrawal. Marian went rigid as Gisborne gripped her wrist. His eyes narrowed.

"Marian, what are you hiding?" Anger coiled beneath his otherwise tepid voice.

She rolled her wrist, attempting to break his hold, but his strength won out. He pushed his fingers in the spaces between her wrist-bones. Pain shot through her arm, making her drop the sword. The weapon knocked against the floor with a traitorous cacophony.

The next few moments whirred past as she attempted to push Gisborne down and run when he bent over to pick up the sword. He caught the movement and blocked her, slamming her into the wall with his shoulder. She gasped, losing a breath. Trying to use the wall as a propellant, she put her hand to his shoulder and her foot on his knee and tried to push, but he struck her leg down with a sharp elbow jab, then pried her fingers off his shoulder and pushed them backwards, making her scream. He covered her lips with his hand to silence her as she kicked at his shins in vain. With what next felt to her like an embarrassingly small effort, he twisted her around face first against the wall and pinned both of her arms behind her back. As he began to pat her down, she shuddered.

"Is that really necessary?" she asked.

"I don't know, is it?" He growled.

"This has all been a misunderstanding; you don't even know what I was doing."

"No!" he roared, "I don't! Marian, what were you thinking? Where's Allan?"

"He's safe. Guy, let me go. I can explain."

With his wrist across her shoulders, he pressed her deeper against the wall, like a rolling pin flattening bread dough. She gritted her teeth as cold gray stone scratched the hot skin of her cheek. "It's not what you think. I found his sword abandoned and I was carrying it for him."

"How thoughtful. I take it that this favor was so urgent that it required resisting me?"

"It's not like that."

"I thought I could trust you. I thought you had given your word."

"Guy, please—"

"No. Within hours after you give me your word that this Nightwatchman business is over, I find you sneaking around the castle and beating up my men."

She laughed. "How do you know I did anything to him?"

A moment of silence from Guy told her that she had just misspoken. "I hardly think he gave you that sword or that he abandoned it," Guy said, his gravel voice rubbing over her like sand. "Allan's reliable for a few things."

She heard him sigh, and then, to her eternal shock, felt his forehead pressing into the space between her shoulder blades. Once again, his impertinence gave her pause; the assumption that he could touch her at will was infuriating.

"Why do you do this to me, Marian?" he mumbled into her dress, as though she were at fault for not wanting to take his orders.

She hardened her voice, hoping to cut. "Do not play as though you are the only one betrayed. You lied to me. You're going to Portsmouth to kill the king."

Gisborne withdrew from her back, and his voice took on an equally sharp edge. "Who told you that?"

"A rumor. And you did not deny it."

"I am going to Portsmouth, yes, but if you think that I am going there to kill Richard then you are mistaken." He let one of his hands trail up her arm. Her heart beat furiously in her chest as she tried to gauge his mood, the strength of his lies, and her chances of escaping. His hand brushed the hair between her shoulder and her neck. She twitched involuntarily. "Someone has been feeding you lies, Marian."

"Then why are you going there at all?" she accused, attempting to keep her voice steady.

His hand cupped her bare shoulders, and he flipped her around to face him. Her shoulder blades bounced against stones. She considered her options for fighting her way out of this, and reasoned that they were less than promising; the wall closed off at least one direction for escape and his hands lingered at her throat. She was keenly aware that Gisborne, unlike her, was still armed.

"The king is not in Portsmouth; he's in the Holy Land. We are going to Portsmouth, Marian, on business at the request of Prince John. No further." He leaned his face down closer to hers and spoke in a hush. "You think too much for your own good."

Her fingers scratched at the stone for want of a weapon. "Then why are the mercenaries here? Why have you been putting together an army if not to kill the king?"

"Did you ever think that perhaps those mercenaries have gathered to assist us in a different task?"

"What sort of task?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"Surely you must be aware of the problems presented to us by a certain rogue element in Nottinghamshire," he answered with a voice as soft as the fur on a wolf cub's belly. "Right now one hundred paid men have gathered in Nettlestone; last I heard, they had that outlaw gang trapped in a barn. The sheriff and I expect to get word of Hood's death once we reach Portsmouth."

She could feel her blood turning to ice in her veins. "That can't be true," she scoffed, pretending to be amused, believing that he spoke true.

"Is there something else you wanted to tell me, Marian?" he murmured, and she wanted to kick him for his conceit.

"I have never wanted his death." She tried not to mewl. She was not a baby cat. She could not merely scratch his eyes out and get away with it.

He laughed and put his arm above her head. "Don't tell me you would have me save him."

Her silence must have been answer enough; sensing her reaction, he sucked in a sharp breath and clenched his jaw. The veins of his neck stood out in crisp relief. "Marian," he intoned without a trace of humor, "I can't recall you ever protesting before when I optioned to kill him. You once congratulated my victory when we both thought he was dead."

"Did I? It was so long ago, Guy," A spot on the opposite wall took on a very attractive quality around that moment. Marian gazed at it with a sudden and severe longing. "I thought he was already dead, then, and so there was no point in resisting execution. Anyway, my father had just died, and I was distracted."

Her feeble words faded away as he lifted her left hand and covered it with his right, caressing her bones with his fingertips.

"Answer my question," he commanded, his eyes falling short from meeting hers. "Tell me whether you are in league with my enemy."

"Guy, if you think for a even a second that the sheriff doesn't—"

"Marian, be quiet," he hissed, his eyes suddenly alert.

"No!" she cried, "Listen to me, this is—"

She was cut off mid-sentence as Gisborne covered her mouth with his. The shock immobilized her long enough for a patrol of guards to march past the two of them pressed together against the wall. She heard a chuckle and wanted to scream from embarrassment. As soon as the guards were comfortably out of earshot, she tore her face out from under Gisborne's and coughed for air.

"I will not be silenced that way," she spat in a hoarse whisper, unable to meet his eyes.

He rubbed his jaw, seemingly unmoved. "Would you have rather shouted your treason for the castle to hear?" When she said nothing, he continued, "You are going to your chamber where you will stay until I return to Nottingham; I will have servants bring you everything you need in the meantime."

She froze. "Guy, you can not just shut me up in my chamber like a child or a prisoner."

He looked her in the eye and growled, "You only had mobility at my pleasure," He seized her hands and held her still while picking up Allan's sword then proceeded to drag her down the hallway.

Terror touched her as she thought of the impending isolation. "Why," she petitioned, trotting to keep up with his long stride, "is Hood's death so important to you?"

"It is not only his death but your offense to it."

"I told you; I do not like bloodshed. And it would be unwise—he is popular. If you want a peasant rebellion on your hands . . . "

"The people of Nettlestone gave him up willingly."

"What? I cannot believe that."

"Well, perhaps belief is as difficult for you as honesty."

She glared at his back but he failed to notice.

Guy continued, "Is it so impossible that a village who never knew this man as anything other than an outlaw who sometimes brought them food—as a man who was once implicated in the murder of some of their children—would want to trade him for long-term relief from the legitimate sheriff?"

"You will have trouble in Locksley for it."

"I already have trouble in Locksley."

"It will plague you. Many of the people there knew him, loved him. They will consider his death martyrdom. What will they think when they hear that their current master, his position uncertain, killed their former, beloved master? No matter how deserving Hood is of punishment, or how scant the chance of him regaining his lands, it will hurt your position. You said once that they mock you. How will this turn out?"

"It is not my decision, it is the sheriff's," Guy replied, his back like a wall in front of her.

"So you go along with each of his commands like a simpleton?" she chided as they reached the narrow spiral staircase that led towards her room. He let go of her hand as they climbed so that neither would be encumbered on the slippery steps, but his pace did not slow. She thought briefly of running while his back was turned, but did not want to chance the fall, especially not in her dress. She cursed herself for having this cumbersome dress tailored – oh no, all the ladies in London have split skirts. A split skirt also provided more of a chance of tripping if she ran. Maybe she could escape through her window and get to Robin in time. Maybe she could also grow wings and learn to fly.

"It is neither base nor simple to practice obedience, Marian," Gisborne lectured from above. "I wish you would try it sometime."

She tried not to be too harsh when she scoffed. "Guy, please, I am begging you, what difference does that outlaw make to us? You do not need to let this happen,"

He recited a litany of offences as he ascended the stairs, his words wafting up the winding tower to the sky. "Robin Hood is a dangerous criminal who steals from my chest, who preys on travelers, who makes a mockery of the law, and who will stoop to using defenseless women as hostages."

She bit her lip at his last accusation, knowing that her life may rest on concealing how she had cooperated with Robin. "Hood may be deserving of some punishment, yes, but he has never taken a life. Surely execution is excessive."

"Marian, I don't know what he has done to deserve this kindness from you. That man dangled you from a tree and left you to die in smoke, and yet you ask me—no, you beg me—to forgive him. You are either a fool or a traitor."

"I do not want to betray you."

"Then you are too kind, Marian." Gisborne stopped at the top of the stairs before she reached the landing, forcing Marian to squeeze past him so that she could enter the hallway. To her dismay, they had arrived at her door sooner than she had anticipated.

"I am not consumed by revenge - that is all," she countered, assuming the tone of a haughty noblewoman. "Whether Robin Hood has done wrong in the past is irrelevant; he is a human being and has a right to live."

"Wouldn't you say that my guards also have that right, and that Robin has denied it to them? How many more of my soldiers must die in pursuit of that man?"

She didn't have an answer for that; she could not argue legitimately that Robin should run free. "Perhaps you can catch him another way? Stop him in a manner that does not require death?"

Gisborne fumbled with his keys, not looking at her. "Even if I forgave the multiple personal insults he has dealt me, he is a threat to order in Nottingham, and he must be eliminated. The sheriff has ordered him caught and killed, and as Master of Arms I am duty bound to see that order carried out."

"Hiring an army to handle a mere outlaw - that is a fine, wise, prudent option, and certainly not a waste of resources. Guy, doesn't it even touch you as a Christian?" she pleaded. "Have you no sense of mercy?"

"I show no mercy to those who show none."

She bit her tongue to keep from laughing aloud. "What do you even mean by that?"

"Marian, did you know that while he held me captive, he was going to torture me?"
She rolled her eyes. "Do not make up stories. I know that he has slighted you, but you returned unscathed."

He cut her off. "Only because his little friends got there in time to intervene. You, Marian, were not there. You did not see me bound and gagged like an animal; you were not present when he held a coal-heated blade to my neck."

A note of sorrow pinched her. She remembered Robin's anger, his conviction that Gisborne represented everything that was evil about the world, and the irony that her mercy towards Gisborne could hurt Robin so much. She almost wished that she hadn't intervened to save Gisborne's life.

"If you are trying to wage a moral battle against Robin Hood, then you should let him go," she said quietly. Gisborne scoffed at this, but Marian pressed the issue. "He released you!"

"For a hostage exchange, for a Saracen slave girl."

"He was willing to trade his enemy for his friend. Don't you understand? You can't win against him if you kill him outright. Prove you are the better man," she challenged. "Rescue him. Make him indebted to you."

"I do not want his debts!" Gisborne shouted, and she wanted to shove him. "I do not have to prove that I am the better man; it is apparent." The lock finally gave entrance, and Gisborne kicked the door open. It ricocheted against the wall. He pushed Marian inside the room ahead of him.

She whirled to face him. "Nothing will change your mind and let you forget this hate, will it? You would have let Nottingham burn so that you did not have to cooperate with this man. I cannot understand your anger."

"He would have left you to die, Marian. How could I have forgiven that? Even if you can, it would have destroyed me."

"But if you did not accept him and Nottingham burned, I still would have been lost. Your anger towards him is more important to you than I am," she challenged.

Gisborne's shale eyes drew a shadow. "I would have hoped you had thought better of me by now than that."

She fumed, thinking that she could never marry this man if he insisted on turning every conversation into a discussion about his feelings for her. At the moment, she had more important issues weighing on her mind, starting with the fates of five men. Swallowing her anger, she took a step towards him and asked, "Then why is it so difficult to be merciful?"

"You want me to save Hood?" he accused, crossing his arms and creating a barrier between them.

"Surely that is not a sin," she countered, touching her fingertips to his arm. His watched the movement, and then lifted his eyes to hers. She held firm.

He cursed and looked away. "To oppose my superior, the man that God and the Prince have put before me, and to allow a band of criminals to flourish - that is not sin?"

"To save your fellow man from death shows compassion greater than any sin you think yourself guilty of committing." When he failed to answer she persisted, "Think, Guy. God gave you strength and compassion to protect men, not to harm them."

"I already told you – if I am to protect anyone, it must be by making sacrifices. I can't let every brigand, thief, or murderer roam free."

"Then don't allow him to roam free. Put these men in the dungeon, banish them to Ireland, but do not stain yourself with more death - that is all I am asking you." She tugged at the leather around his elbow, and it was only a little time that he resisted before allowing her to pull him towards her. "I know you are capable. You have used your strength before to protect me, and you were wonderful." She lifted her other hand to brush some stray hairs out of his eyes; his features softened but he did not move. "Guy, you must know that I was once proud to stay by your side."

"I wish you could be proud to stay with me without these conditions," he said softly, uncrossing his arms. "Minutes ago you were ready to fight me based on a rumour. What guarantee now do I have that I should trust you?" She opened her mouth to answer him, but he brought a finger to her lips. "Marry me."

She controlled herself and managed not to gasp. Her face must have briefly registered her shock, for Gisborne's countenance fell. She didn't know what to do. The possibility of marriage had been creeping around her thoughts, just as it always did when he was near, but, still, she had hoped he wouldn't ask.

She opened her mouth beneath his finger to respond, but he cut her off.

"I won't wait until the king arrives, either. I will marry you today, before I leave for Portsmouth."

Her previous words died in her throat; his request was no easier than it had been a year ago – worse now, because she was already engaged. "But, Guy, that's in less than a few hours."

He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "If you do not want me, say it. Do not make up excuses. If you want me to spare my worst enemy, you will have to make it worth my while."

She wanted to refuse Gisborne and deny that she could be so easily won, but thoughts of Robin, dead and mangled, consumed her. She envisioned Robin's soft jaw purple and swollen, his lovely brow beaten past recognition, and the fine hands he used for shooting bow cut into red ribbons. Hero of the crusades, tricked and murdered in his own shire.

All her reservations to the exchange at hand were mere vanities. She would do anything to save him. She would prostitute herself to the sheriff if it would save Robin's life; Gisborne, in comparison, was a bargain.

"Yes" she said, hardly thinking. Gisborne looked almost as surprised as she felt. "If you save the outlaw Robin Hood and his men," she continued cautiously, iterating the terms, "and swear to me that you will prevent harm coming to them in the future – especially from the sheriff – then I will willingly become your wife."

Ages went by as she waited for him to answer. His eyes searched hers for something, and perhaps finding it, he turned away to leave. As his hand reached the door, she called after him not to leave her without a confirmation, and he stopped.

"I will be back within a few hours," he said. "I will not leave Nottingham without seeing you, be sure of that." His tone was dead, and she wondered if she had lost. "If you leave this room," he continued, "if I come back to find that you have betrayed me, I will consider any deal to have been forfeit and the next time I see Hood, I will kill him with my own hands."

She swallowed hard and told him that she would wait.

"I have to find Allan and return him his sword. Where is he?"

Allan? He seemed ages away. She had to think for a moment, but as soon as she told him where to go, Gisborne left, shutting the door without even sparing her a smile to trust. The bolt of the lock ground shut with a sound not unlike the iron doors of the dungeon, trapping her inside her own room. Frustrated and useless, Marian sagged against the wall and told herself that Robin would live through the day.