The cold dark corridor of the guests' quarters resounded with the steps of two guards just turning around the corner. Robin, much to his relief, remained undetected. The guards were foolishly chatting about how easy their day had been, and how they were enjoying a quiet night as well. Had they known that the source of their greatest fear was breathing a few paces away, their smiles would freeze on their faces.
Robin dared to check if there were others to hide from, when a familiar figure, clad in the darkest brown, was limping towards him.
Marian, he thought. Wounded. She stopped to catch her breath.
"Psst," he whispered to get her attention.
Marian lifted her head to see who the other intruder was. Quickly, she realised that there was no threat. Under the flickering light from the torch on the wall, she was about to give him a lecture that she should have given herself first, when the voices of the guards warned the outlaw and his in-and-out-of-the-law friend to leave the heated argument for a more private moment.
Robin saw a door and instantly decided that it was their best chance. "In here," he said.
Marian followed him inside, glancing over her shoulder.
"Here we are. It should be relatively safe." He examined the room. "This was your room when Joe tried to kill the Sheriff, wasn't it?"
Marian leaned against the wall, desperate for some relief from the pain.
"Well?"
She only nodded, her silence being a clear sign that Robin should tread lightly. She was displeased with their accidental meeting. He found her wounded. That was a blow to her vanity as a fighter, on top of the difficult night she was already having.
He approached her in a way that wouldn't mean stepping over the boundaries she had been setting between them.
"I've had worse." She told him, when she caught him staring at her wound.
Part of him denied any knowledge of worse injuries. It wasn't a serious cut; just a deep scratch, but it bled.He felt reassured by his own assessment of the situation.
"How did it happen?"
"Nothing unusual or fascinating about it, Robin," Marian replied, annoyed and eager to skip the details. "Kicking, punching, swinging swords whenever necessary, falling down and standing up. Repeatedly."
He didn't like the thought of her at someone's sword's point.
But she is a fighter, he reminded himself.
"I had no sword so I had to disarm one of guards to fight back," she informed him.
"That's the spirit! Where's the infamous blade?"
"Didn't take it with me."
"That's not the spirit. What if you have to fight on your way out, as well?"
"What are you doing here?" Marian asked in a feeble attempt to change the subject.
"Seeking information, wherever I can find them. How about you?"
She drew a few quick breaths, trying to step on her foot, but quit the painful effort. "Running away, actually."
"Running from Gisborne?" He laughed loudly. "Oh, I know the feeling! Tell me, is he still unaware of the depths of his unintended generosity?"
Marian looked at him, confused. He gestured at what she had been carrying.
"These are from the Manor. And they must be filled with coins. Unless I am gravely mistaken. Which I am not."
Swiftly, he opened the satchels.
"Only one of them truly belongs to Locksley." Carefully, Marian avoided pointing out that he was no longer the one to use anything provided in the grand house as Lord Locksley. In the same careful way, she didn't mention the current unworthy ruler of his lands. "The one you're holding was originally Hall's property, falsely kept in the Manor's chests."
"Could it be so?" he pretended not to remember. How he came to possess it was not a brilliant chapter in their romance. All the same, it was a cherished memory.
One fine day, a slightly mocking comment about her riding skills was matched with a comment about his lack of decorum. Quickly the quarrel escalated to a fight about her enraging stubbornness and his infuriating arrogance.
Coming night, Robin waited until everyone in Knighton Hall had fallen asleep and climbed up her window. The very few words from his part that were meant as an apology weren't received as such. His visit came to its inglorious end when a satchel, full of dried petals once delivered in the form of fresh flowers, landed with force on his face.
In the days that followed, neither wished to resume the fight, but neither was willing to let bygones be bygones. One led to another and he was on his way to the Holy Land before reason conquered the willfulness which reigned in their youthful minds.
"You could have returned it, you know," she interrupted his thoughts.
"So what brought you to this neighborhood?" he coughed and avoided her comment.
She didn't reply.
"Very secretive. The mind races! Tell me."
"It's a long story."
"Tell me, anyway."
She sighed and agreed to share her story. "I was being followed. I took a wrong turn-"
"Oh, you never want to do that!"
"-and I was cornered-"
"See? Because that happens!"
"I do not appreciate the interruptions."
Robin nodded.
"A door was open and I crept in. But the castle was the last place I wanted to be. And with good reason. One minute in and another team of guards appeared. They got taken care of and not long after, you found me,"
"That wasn't long! If you want to hear a long story, have Much tell you one. It will last until your hair turns gray. But you didn't have to tell me. I don't believe in secrecy between friends, but I would have respected your privacy. Well, I would have outdone myself trying!"
"How very noble of you. And what a pity, the humankind won't know."
Robin smiled. This will be entertaining!
TO BE CONTINUED
