Disclaimer: I do not hold any ownership over the BBC's version of Robin Hood.
Author's Note: Well, I watched the new Robin Hood with Russell Crowe and was appalled at the historical inaccuracy. Appalled! Do television/movie writers not have access to books? Or Wikipedia? Google? So this is the historically accurate version of events, as told by me, with the help of the BBC characters.

Thank you so much, Neftzer, for your impeccable edit of this story. You took something I was compelled to write, made many excellent suggestions and corrections, and helped me make this story into something I am immensely proud of. Thank you for all of your hard work.

Any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

o0O0o

The Year of Our Lord, 1215

"Robin," she whispered in his ear.

He groaned.

"Robin…" she pleaded again.

"Marian?" he asked sleepily.

"Wake up, Dear Heart."

He reached out for her, but she dodged his arm and jumped out of bed. Her feet hit the icy floor and she hissed. Not willing to give up, she cajoled again, "Robin, get up, we'll be late for Mass."

He groaned again and rolled over. She couldn't help but smile at him. They'd been married for one and twenty years, and he still was reluctant to get up for Mass on Sundays and Holy days. She threw his best tunic at him. She was now sure that he would never grow out of this.

"No!" he whined.

"Robin, I am getting dressed…" she said coyly.

He removed the tunic from his face… to discover she was already fastening her girdle around her waist.

"You are finished!" he pouted. She was wearing her best dress, a soft shade of blue. Her girdle was a well-worn leather affair, which matched her simple leather shoes. She grinned impishly at him and fastened her veil over her hair, tucking wisps out of view.

"Get up. I have to make sure the children are nearly ready."

Robin sighed, and rolled out of bed. He quickly washed at the bowl of cold water and pulled on his best breeches and tunic.

He went down to the hall and found all his children ready, save one.

"Where is Geoffrey?"

Joan was fourteen, dark like her mother, and not easily amused by her brother's less than pious attitude. She sighed, "He said he is coming…" and her voice trailed off disapprovingly. Robin and Marian would have to talk to her soon about taking the cloth, as she did not seem interested in suitors.

"And I am!" Geoffrey shouted, rushing down the stairs. He was a youth nineteen years old and just as headstrong as Robin was at that age. He was also as dark as was his mother, with her same snapping blue eyes.

"Let us go, then," said Katherine. She was the oldest of the lot, fair like her father, and engaged to be married to Much's eldest son, Arthur, in the spring. She would then move into the lodge at Bonchurch with him.

Peter, at thirteen, and Eleanor, at twelve, silently filed out the door. They were fair as well, and as they were very close in age, did most everything together.

Mass was an uneventful affair, and after the family broke their fast, they delivered food and supplies to those villagers who needed the aid. Sundays at Locksley, or at Knighton, depending on where the family happened to be living, were relatively quiet. The children, all except the soft spoken Joan, practiced their archery. Joan preferred quiet contemplation; in the summer, she helped tend Marian's roses.

Marian and Robin would often go for rides through Sherwood, escaping their responsibilities for a short time.

Today, Marian sighed, and shivered slightly into her cloak.

"Are you cold, my love?"

"No, I am fine, Robin," she spurred her mount further in to the forest.

They rode along their favorite paths, enjoying the frost on the leaves and branches, and enjoying their races and their company.

After about an hour, they found a running stream and rested their horses. Robin helped Marian dismount and the two huddled together. Marian enjoyed these stolen moments from their real life. Not that bearing and raising the children had not been a joy (because it had), but slipping away made her feel young again, valiant, and brave. And given the current political clime, she had a feeling she would soon need to rally her courage.

Robin sighed, and tucked his face into her neck.

"Robin of Locksley, your nose is cold!"

"My apologies, Lady Marian," he said, but did not move from his place.

She squirmed away with a giggle.

Robin stalked after her and crushed her into another hug, slipping his hands under her cloak and tickling her ribs.

"Robin, you fool, stop it!"

So he did, by kissing her. After a few moments at this activity, Robin rested his forehead on hers and said, "So."

"So?"

"The barons."

She sighed. The year of our Lord 1215 was still new, and already full of political intrigue, the likes of which she hadn't seen since 1199, when King Richard died and John forced himself on the throne. Much was very delicate when handling the new King, and had just managed to retain the office of Sheriff over Nottingham, swearing his continued loyalty to the throne.

But now, more powerful barons were trying to negotiate a charter with King John, who was trying to avoid this, and Marian and Robin could once again see a storm on the horizon. Sixteen years of relative stability had not softened them, however. Marian had been the daughter of a sheriff, and Robin was a warrior and a Captain of the King's Guard in the Holy Land. And they had raised five children in the court at Nottingham. No, they were quite familiar with the delicate nature of kings and princes.

Marian spoke, "Well, I suppose it is useless to worry about the barons this early. Who knows what the charter will say? But whatever comes, I am confident we can handle it."

It was Robin's turn to sigh. "You are right, of course."

"I am always right, Robin."

"Is that so, Marian?"

"You know it is."

He tickled her ribs again, setting her to laughter. After a few moments, she shivered.

"Let us go home, Robin. I am cold and hungry."

They mounted their rested horses, and made their way back to Locksley.

o0O0o

Winter soon melted away, political intrigues were forgotten for a time while Katherine, the eldest daughter of Locksley, prepared to marry Arthur, the eldest son of Bonchurch. The two had grown up together; they were close in age and temperament. Katherine was calm and intelligent. Robin knew she was not devoid of the passion he shared with Marian, passion for justice and for life, but it manifested itself in very sensible channels. All of the children were practically raised on any political intrigue that affected the family. Arthur too, was highly intelligent, and very kind. He was turning into a good man, just like his father, and Robin had almost no qualms about giving the young bride to the young groom at the church in Locksley.

Except, the wedding of his first-born would likely mean the wedding of the rest of the brood. Which meant he was getting old.

Marian, it seemed, did not share these misgivings. If she did, she did not want to speak of them. She was busy these last few months, helping Katherine with her trousseau and getting the dowry together, dropping hints and giving advice about married life. She was happy her daughter was marrying for love, as Marian and Robin had years earlier. And Bonchurch was so close; she would be near at hand. They would see her every Sunday and Holy Day at Mass, since the manors shared the church.

Katherine herself was excited. She did not lord it over her sisters. She was older than the average bride, and two years older than her groom, but it had taken a while for them to iron out the details. Much had insisted they waited until Arthur was nineteen. No one objected to the wait.

The day of the wedding dawned warm and bright, the families up with the June sun, ornamenting the church, Joan and Eleanor went out to the meadows to gather flowers. The villagers were readying for the celebration. Everyone was in an uproar, apart from Katherine, who calmly arranged her blonde hair, buckled her best girdle around her waist, and packed a few last minute things in her trunk, including sweet smelling lilies from her sisters, so that when she opened her trunk in her new home, everything would smell fresh. Marian came in and arranged her bridal veil, the first time Katherine was expected to wear one.

"You look lovely, Katherine," Marian told her daughter earnestly, kissing her forehead. "Arthur is so lucky."

"I feel lucky, Mother," she smiled a shy smile that reminded Marian of her father's slow grin, and received similar compliments from her sisters. After one last look in the glass, Katherine picked up her small bouquet of wild flowers, gathered her skirt in her left hand and quit the room. She met her father at the foot of the stairs.

"Oh, Katherine, you are more beautiful than your mother was on our wedding day," he exclaimed, kissing her cheek.

"You will likely pay for that comment later, Father," she told him with a grin.

"Oh, he will," Marian assured her. "And if you recall, Robin, it was not the most traditional wedding."

"You look lovely," said Geoffrey, kissing his sister Katherine's other cheek.

Peter decided to outdo his brother, dropping to one knee and kissing her hand, "Maid Katherine, please stay and grace us with your chaste beauty for ever and anon!"

She laughed at her brother's antics and pulled her hand away, but paused to ruffle his blonde locks of hair.

"I am afraid, dear Peter, that I must make good on a promise!"

Peter sighed dramatically and got up again. "Now, if Arthur ever hurts you in any way, you must remind him, he is not above a good thrashing."

"Do not forget that I can still thrash you!"

Despite the age difference, Katherine and Peter had always gotten along well. They would miss each other greatly when she moved in with Arthur that day.

"Oh, enough," said Marian with a grin at her children's teasings. "We are going to be late!"

Peter offered his arm to Katherine, but was jokingly pushed aside by Geoffrey, who was much taller than either Peter or Katherine. Instead, Robin took Marian's arm, and Eleanor offered her arm to Peter, and Joan took the other. Thus partnered off, the family made their way to the church.

Arthur was waiting at the door of the church with the priest, fidgeting nervously. But he calmed when he saw the bride.

Katherine was all smiles, with eyes only for Arthur. She positioned herself next to him, in front of the church door, and the two exchanged simple vows Will you promise to love, honor and cherish? I will. They exchanged wedding bands and kissed, before leading the community in to the church for Mass. Much and Marian were both in tears, Robin was trying very hard to mask his own emotion. Eve, alone of all the parents, looked calm. The children of Locksley and Bonchurch were all calm, however, and signaled to their parents when it was time for action.

The feast was an excuse for much merrymaking, and naturally, dancing. They danced all day and well into the night. It seemed all of Nottingham turned out for the festivities.

No one noticed a page in royal regalia ride up to Much and deliver a missive. Much paid him for his trouble and invited him to join the feast; the page declined.

Marian and Robin noticed this and followed Much away from the celebrations and into Locksley Hall. Much passed the missive to Marian, who was easily the most comfortable with the written word. She read it as quickly as she could, then translated from the Latin,

"John, by the grace of God King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, and Count of Anjou, to His archbishops, bishops, abbots, earls, barons, justices, foresters, sheriffs, stewards, servants, and to all His officials and loyal subjects, Greeting. Know that before God, for the health of Our soul-"

"Marian, just the high points, please," Much begged, already annoyed with the salutation, and dreading the verbosity that legal documents seemed to require.

Marian sighed. "The first clause guarantees the freedom of the Church in England from the Crown… ooh, this is interesting, 'That We wish this so to be observed, appears from the fact that of Our own free will, before the outbreak of the present dispute between Us and Our barons, We granted and confirmed by charter the freedom of the Church's elections - a right reckoned to be of the greatest necessity and importance to it - and caused this to be confirmed by Pope Innocent III.' Dispute?... The second is inheritance laws… so is the third, and the fourth… all the way down to the eighth clause. I am so glad our children are of age now, and can inherit…," she added as a side note.

"Sweet Marian, do not torture us. Skip to the part that we should worry about," Robin added.

"You mean to tell me, Robin of Locksley that you do not care if, 'The city of London shall enjoy all its ancient liberties and free customs, both by land and by water?'"

"Not really," said Much. "Though it is interesting that John and his barons are in a dispute."

"Much of this has to do with debts, and taxes," she said, moving her eyes down the long page. "This is interesting, clause 12; 'No `scutage' or `aid' may be levied in Our kingdom without its general consent, unless it is for the ransom of Our person, to make Our eldest son a knight, and (once) to marry Our eldest daughter. For these purposes only a reasonable `aid' may be levied.' It goes on in that vein in the next few clauses."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, King John cannot over tax us, unless the Feudal Council consents to it."

Robin tried not to cheer at that. It was no secret that he did not like the King John. "So the barons have finally learned from their past mistakes!"

Marian continued thoughtfully, "This also guarantees a right to a trial by jury, and… regulates weights and measurements throughout the realm. About time, that…. And Clause 61… it allows for a majority of 25 barons to overrule the King!"

"I cannot believe that King John agreed to this," said Much, confused. "It is completely against his character."

"Regulating measurements?" Marian asked.

"Relinquishing control," Much pointed out.

"Oh, who cares?" cried Robin, swinging Marian into an improvised jig, the copy of the charter falling to the floor.

Marian laughed. Even if the political situation in London seemed rocky, they did have much to celebrate. The charter had brought good news. Much picked up the copy, folded it neatly and tucked it into a pocket. The trio went back out to the festivities. It could wait until the next Council of Nobles on Wednesday.

o0O0o

Djaq sat quietly next to her husband Will Scarlet, watching their dark haired, dark eyed children dance with the rest of Locksley. And some other villages, she was not sure which ones. The eldest son, Isaac was whirling Bess, the local dairymaid, around, whom he had been courting since Michaelmas. Daniel was blushing near a group of women from Clun, who had turned out for the dancing. Sophia was dancing with some friends of hers, but took a few turns with Much's and Robin's sons.

Djaq sighed gently. Will, ever the sensitive man she had fallen for, turned to meet her gaze.

"You are tired of the celebrations," he said.

"Yes." It was bizarre how quickly he could read her moods. Usually.

They stood up and walked to the bridal table, exchanging handshakes and good wishes for the Locksley and Bonchurch families, which were repeated back. Will slipped away, while Djaq was talking to Eve, to tell his children they were leaving, but he was back almost before Djaq noticed he was missing. Resting a hand on the small of her back, they made their way home. They walked through the door, which squeaked slightly; Will lit a candle and they settled in for the night, Djaq knelt down to pray, facing the mihrab that Will had given her as a Christmas present after Daniel was born.

That Christmas moment had been a truce between Will and Djaq. Djaq sometimes struggled, living in a Christian country. It had become easier; she had long since stopped seeing them as an enemy, realizing they worshiped the same Creator, but in different ways. And here, the church bells still indicated how many times a day one should pray, the altar in the church faced East, symbolically where Mecca was. Will and Djaq had taught their children prayers from both their faiths. The children had their Catechism with other village children their age, but there was always room in their home for religious discussion, as long as it was respectful. And sometimes it was the little things, like keeping a cross instead of a Crucifix, as Djaq did not worship human images of God.

She gazed at the mihrab for a few moments more from her place on the floor, thinking of their life together.

"Djaq, are you coming to bed?" Will asked gently.

She smiled. He was always so reluctant to interrupt her prayers.

"Yes, Will," she stood, feeling her knees creak uncomfortably, something that was new. She shuffled over to their bed, pulled up a rough blanket and crawled underneath, staring at the exposed beams of their ceiling. Will blew out the candle and followed her, lying on his side and curling around her small form.

After a moment, he surprised her, by saying, "Soon our own children will be getting married."

"Yes, soon. Did you see Isaac steal that kiss from Bess?"

Will chuckled. "And Daniel blush at those girls."

Djaq felt the laugh move from his chest to her body. She allowed herself a chuckle.

"I love you," she told him.

"I love you, too."

The two fell into sleep.

o0O0o

The revelry in Locksley went well into the evening; Arthur and Katherine slipped off to Bonchurch just after dusk. Much, Eve, and their two unmarried children left for Nottingham Castle a little later. Marian and Robin (and their children) stayed until the night sky opened and produced a steady downpour. Instantly the party scattered, parents picked up younger children, hurried the older ones along, and everyone headed back to their homes. Marian and Robin were no different. Upon arriving back at the house, Marian supervised the lighting of fires in bedrooms and the drying of her daughters' hair (lest they catch a summer cold). Soon, however, all was settled in Locksley, and Marian found herself in her husband's arms.

He was currently sweeping a hand from her breast to her waist and back again. Marian found this utterly soothing, and lulled by his nearness and the sound of the rain, she was quite ready for sleep.

"Rain," said Robin, simply.

"'Tis good luck for a bride, for it to rain on her wedding day," Marian completed the thought.

Robin gazed at her. "So what are you saying, a wedding in a desert is unlucky?"

"We have never needed luck; we are both too stubborn for luck to be necessary."

He chuckled. She sighed happily, and his arms stopped their massage and tightened around her waist.

"A daughter married," he whispered in her ear.

She smiled into his chest, and planted a light kiss there. "I thought… well, I am not sure what I thought. I knew this day would come, but I cannot believe it is finally here."

"Indeed, it is odd to not have her in the house," Robin agreed.

Marian pulled away a little, the better to see him. The years had been kind to them. Though King John's reign was turbulent, it had affected Nottingham very little. Much was a good sheriff, and Marian knew enough to help him. They were called to the Royal Court every once in a while, enough to make out the King's character and reassure the Him of their continued loyalty to the throne. The trio made a strong team, protecting the Shire as best they could from the whims of a king. Still, the years had not taken their toll on Robin, at least not physically. He was still quite fit, as they both had trained their children to fight. Grey was only just beginning to touch his temples, the wrinkles on his face were few and far between. They did not betray his forty-seven years. Marian too, did not look her age, just three years younger than Robin. Her body had softened somewhat from the birth of six children, five of which had miraculously made it to adulthood. Her hair was still black at night, her eyes still bright blue.

"Well, not all of them will be leaving," she teased. "Someone will have to inherit our houses!"

Robin kissed her. He simply could not help himself. Even many years of marriage, and children, and life could not quite cool his passions for her. She was just… Marian. He was hers, and there was nothing better he liked than being with her.

She responded to the kiss. It deepened, and Robin groaned. She smiled, which he felt, but did not see. Somehow this spurred him on. There were no words here, only touches (guided by years of practice), and sensations (her hands running down his back, her hair between his fingers, a kiss here, a gasp there), and love. So much love that it hurt sometimes, but only kept them going back for more.

o0O0o

Much informed all the nobles of the Charter at the next Council of Nobles, but for the most part, it affected them little. There were rumors abound, however, that King John was not happy with the deal, and that he was communicating with Pope Innocent III in Rome. Robin did not know what to make of that, seeing as the Charter benefited the Church.

Summer passed, slowly and lazily; Katherine and Arthur came to visit from Bonchurch looking happy and in love. Eve and Much were still living in Nottingham Castle with Richard and Ellen, allowing Arthur to have Bonchurch. Marian and Robin themselves were still happy and in love, the children were healthy and whole. There was not much wrong with the world in their eyes….

Until summer ended. Suddenly the weather turned, and the country seemed to be taking sides for what was sure to be a civil war. That Great Charter that was signed in June was at issue. King John had no intention of abiding by it; he claimed he had signed it under duress, and a further blow to the Charter, Rome agreed with him.

This oncoming war was apparent even in Nottingham. Much called a Council of Nobles meeting two days early, and everyone had come. Marian and Robin brought Geoffrey and Peter, the two sons of Locksley that were likely to inherit. Arthur was there representing Bonchurch, and all were in heated debate as to what to do about this possible civil war.

Some called for fighting alongside the King against those who had forced him to sign the Charter in the first place. They felt it violated the Divine mandate to rule England.

Others cried that the King was unjust, and that limiting his power would be a good thing for England.

Robin, to the surprise of everyone, since all knew his dislike of the current king, called for neutrality in this delicate time. Behind him, his eldest son Geoffrey made a face. "I disagree! We should fight with the King! A promise made under duress is no promise at all!"

Marian tensed.

Robin stood up quickly and whirled around, his robes catching on the wooden chair. "My son, I must warn you to watch your tongue; you are not experienced in the matters of Kings and Popes."

Geoffrey's eyes threw daggers at his father for undermining his outburst, but he fell silent out of grudging respect for his father.

Robin sat down, and Much moved to try and cover the tension, "I must advise that for the moment, we remain neutral. Of course I cannot stop any of your actions, but as the fighting has yet to sweep north, it may be resolved before it reaches us."

At the closing of the Council, Marian, Robin, Geoffrey and Peter did not linger. They set off instantly to the stables in silence and were soon on their way.

Robin took the lead, followed by Peter. Marian and Geoffrey drew back to talk.

"Why did Father have to undermine me like that? In front of the Council?" he asked petulantly.

"Geoff, I speak from experience. When an heir attends a council meeting, they are expected to keep their silence. I do not always agree, but in this case, it was you who were undermining your father."

"But he is wrong! Do you not agree?"

"Son, I have long since lost faith in King John, or any King for that matter. Richard did not always have the best interests of England at heart, and John seeks to line his pockets."

"I would not let Father catch you talking about King Richard that way."

"He knows that is how I feel," Marian said simply. The road was long, and she grew wearing of Geoffrey's arguments.

Geoffrey looked up in surprise.

"Tread carefully around your father. You two do not always get along, but he loves you, and he hates fighting with you. With anyone, really. No one hates a feud more than a warrior. It might be why he seeks to avoid conflict."

Geoffrey sighed. "But sometimes fighting is the only solution."

"Yes," said Marian slowly. "We do not live in a perfect world. But fighting should always be the last solution."

Geoffrey looked resolutely ahead. He had learned this lesson before. "I should go apologize to him."

"Yes, you should."

Geoffrey spurred his horse forward to speak with his father, as Peter drew back.

"Mother, what do you think Father will do?"

Marian smiled. Peter was so young. Not every thirteen year old wanted to learn politics.

"I think your father will wait and see what happens. We cannot know the future."

"I meant about Geoffrey's impertinence this afternoon."

"Oh. He will forgive him, of course. Like we forgive all your transgressions."

The apology seemed to go well. Robin and Geoffrey were not talking, it was true, but neither were they fighting. Marian adjusted slightly in her saddle. She sometimes wished Locksley was closer to Nottingham. But they were nearing home, and dinner would be waiting for them.

A few days later, on the first day of September, Katherine visited. Her visits were never true surprises, as Bonchurch was so near. But this visit, she brought news for everyone as they sat around the table sharing some mulled wine.

"Lord Verysdale has been called to the North, and Richard goes with him," she announced. Richard was her new brother-in-law, Much and Eve's sixteen year old son and a squire to Lord Verysdale. With an older brother, he was not likely to inherit anything, so he spent most of his time at his knight's manor.

"Who does he fight with?" Robin asked, already knowing the answer.

"The King."

There was plenty of tension at the table, as the family sat with their thoughts about the war and what was to come.

"There is something else," Katherine began.

"France is involved," guessed Marian.

"Little Henry has been declared the young King," tried Robin.

"The Pope has come," Geoffrey offered.

"Oh, Katherine, you are with child!" Eleanor cried.

Smiling, Katherine said, "Yes, I expect it in May!"

The entire table jumped up and rushed to embrace the first daughter of Locksley. Marian was crying and Peter was crowing for a toast, Robin's cocky grin firmly on his own face. Joan said a brief prayer for mother and child, while Geoffrey spun Katherine around and around. Eventually they allowed her to leave them, but only after Robin lent her the carriage and Peter demanded to escort her the two miles to Bonchurch.

"A grandchild," Robin marveled that night while they were getting ready for bed.

Marian smiled. "It did not take them long."

Robin's smile faded, "If anything happens, the war…"

"Hush," she placed a finger on his lips. "We will protect her to our last breaths, and we will not be alone in that. You know Arthur would swim seas for her."

"Yes," Robin agreed. "It is the only reason I allowed this marriage in the first place."

"You old fool, you had nothing to do with it," she teased. Laughing, they crawled into bed, assuaged from their fears by their love for each other and for their expanding family.

o0O0o

The year of our Lord 1215 was drawing to a close in the usual manner; the harvest was brought in, things were settled for winter, Christmas was celebrated. Things in Nottingham went on as before. But these events were marred by more rumors and more political intrigues. The rebel barons began calling for the Prince Louis, the son of the French King to take the English throne. There was little word from Much's son, Richard in the North. Marian could count the worry lines in Much's face.

Meanwhile, Pope Innocent III absolved the Charter, making it an illegal document, with no standing in any court.

All through the Holy Days, as Marian rang in the New Year and celebrated Epiphany with her family, she could not help but wonder what the coming months would bring, and what they would mean for her family.