Robin paced up and down the courtyard of Knighton Hall, his pulse racing, his hands sweating. "What could it possibly be that gives you so much pain to tell me?" said Marian grabbing his elbow and halting his futile pacing. "Surely if you just tell me then we can somehow find a way through it?"
"It is not that simple Marian," replied Robin throwing caution to the winds, "It is complex, too complex for someone who is not yet seventeen."
"Do not patronise me Robin, I am not a child anymore. If you do not even attempt to tell me then how do you know I will not understand?" Marian took his face in her hands and reached up to kiss his forehead but he caught her mouth in a long languid kiss. When they came up for air he took her hand. "I am going away," he said quietly.
"Well, where are you going?" she asked.
"The Holy Land," he hesitated, "to fight for King Richard." Marian pulled away suddenly, her eyes wildly searching his face for any sign that this could be little more than cruel joke. She found none. A tear fell from her eye. He reached out to stroke her cheek but she flinched away.
"Why do you only tell me this now?" she said raising her voice. Robin said nothing, he only stared at his feet and silently searched for a million reasons, none or which could justify the bitterness and hurt in her voice. She shook her head slowly and turned to walk away.
"Marian," he said softly, she stopped, "I set off from Locksley Manor tomorrow at noon. If you have any feelings for me, whether they be love or hate, meet me tomorrow, I will wait as long as I can." Marian said nothing, just walked swiftly away, wiping tears from her eyes. As Robin watched her walk away he felt his heart sink. "If she's not mine to come back to," he thought, "then it doesn't matter if I die out there." He set off in the direction of his horse who stood tethered at the gate. "Every cloud." He said under his breath.
Marian watched out of the window while Robin mounted his horse and rode off back to Locksley Manor. She tried in desperation to stem the flow of tears but it was no use. In the end she sat on the floor of her bedchamber, pulled her knees up to her chest and cried with the intensity of one who's heart was breaking. "I take it he's told you." The voice made her jump. She looked up to see her father standing in the doorway. She got up off the floor and ran to him, burying her face in his tunic. "I don't see why he has to go." She wept. "You know Robin," said her father, stroking her hair, "if there's glory to be had, he will have it. His father was the same."
"Does he not realise that he might die?"
"For a boy like him that is part of the thrill." Marian drew away, wiping her sodden cheeks and sniffing. "In all the years I've known him, you'd think I would understand him by now." She took a deep breath and waited a second or two before exhaling, "Are you going to be alright?" asked her father.
"I'd like a few moments to myself, if you wouldn't mind?" He shook his head and silently left the room. She went and sat back down on the floor and stared into the middle distance. Why were men such fools? Always looking for glory and praise. Her father was the only man she knew who had never sought glory for himself. Sir Edward had become Sheriff due to his good graces and generous nature and the people loved him. Why could men like Robin not do the same? They were too blinded by selfishness to see that all the glory in the world could be right under their noses. "Fools." She said to herself.
Robin woke before sunrise the next morning. The Manor was silent with sleep. His mind danced with images of Marian, the most prominent being the look on her face when he had told her his fateful news. He dressed in the dark and felt around for his bow and arrows. He crept downstairs stealthily as a fox so as not to wake anyone. When he stepped out into the courtyard the morning frost hit him like a fist and made his breath come out in great steaming clouds of vapour. He took an arrow and put it in his bow. Bringing it up to eye-level he aimed it at an old oak tree. He pulled the string of the bow towards his chest and release. It shot through the air with incredible velocity and hit the trunk with such power that three pigeons launched out of it branches and disappeared into the dark. As he placed the next arrow into his bow and brought it up to his eye he made himself a promise. "If I can get five arrows directly aligned with one another," he thought, "then she'll be here." He pulled the string of the bow back and released it. The arrow hit the tree directly under the previous one. He picked up a third arrow, placed it in his bow, pulled back the string and released it. This arrow hit the tree just under the second arrow. Twice more he went through this ritual and each subsequent arrow hit the tree just under the previous. He looked at the five perfectly aligned arrows and for the first time since he had left Knighton Hall the day before he felt the slightest glimmer of hope for the future.
"Master?" came a voice from behind him. Robin turned slowly to see Much standing there. "Cook was wondering if you would be wanting some breakfast." Robin nodded and walked off to collect his arrows. He began to pull them out of the tree. One from the top, one from the bottom, one from the top, one from the bottom until there was one arrow left. It stood perfectly central both vertically and horizontally, this arrow he left as a reminder of that fleeting moment of hope.
By five minutes to noon the courtyard of Locksley Manor was swarming with men, women, horses and carts all rushing around attempting to look busy. "With so much fuss you would have thought it was a whole army leaving for the Holy Land as opposed to a Nobleman and his manservant." Said Much as he looked out of the window of Robin's bedchamber. Robin did not reply, he searched in solemnity through the throng hoping to see the face that would send him off to Jerusalem with a reason for returning. It did not appear. "We should be going." Said Robin. He picked up his bow and slung a quiver of arrows over his shoulder. He walked out into the courtyard with Much following close behind. When he appeared the hustle and bustle of the crowd stopped. Every person watched him as he walked up to his housekeeper Thornton. The housekeeper held out his hand to his Master but Robin ignored the hand and embraced him, "Now is not the time for formalities Thornton." He laughed.
"Sir," came the voice of a small, wizened horse groom, "Your horse is ready." Robin smiled although it pained him to do so and followed the little groom towards the stables. His arrows had not worked, she had not turned up, and she did not care for him. He walked over to his chestnut mare and placed his foot in the stirrup ready to propel himself onto the horse then something caught his eye. Another horse was riding into the stables, a palomino. However, it wasn't the horse that had caught his eye, it was the figure gracefully sliding off it. "Marian." he breathed, barely able to contain his joy. "Do you think we could just have a moment?" he said addressing the groom who scuttled off at his words.
"You came." He said moving towards her. She took a step back and Robin stopped, a lump rising in his throat, he swallowed and continued, "Is it love or hate?" he smiled, but the smile disappeared when he saw Marian's stony look. "This isn't a joke." She said, "You could die, and where would that leave Locksley? In the hands of one of Prince John's corrupt nobles." Robin stared at his feet, "Will you look at me when I'm talking to you?" Robin once again raised his head to meet her gaze. Fire danced in the depths of those eyes. Tears began to spill down her cheeks, "I should've known you wouldn't care." She choked and turned back to her horse. Robin caught her upper arm and pulled her back towards him. Their faces were inches apart but she refused to look at him and kept her eyes fixed on his shirt. "I do care, but this is something I have to do," He breathed, "Forgive me. Promise you'll wait for me." He put a finger under her chin and pushed her head up so she stared right into his eyes. He leaned down and kissed her gently. For a moment she attempted resistance but the feeling of his lips on hers was like a drug. She pulled him closer relishing his taste and the rush of affection she felt. She pulled away and raised her face to his ear, "I can't promise," she whispered through quivering lips, "and I can't forgive." She walked back and mounted her horse. As she rode off she looked back once, Robin still stood there, staring after her, his gaze unfaltering, his heart on his sleeve.