Marian awoke the following morning wrapped in her husband's arms, realizing that all the previous day's unhappiness had vanished during the night.

Robin was already awake, looking and smelling so wonderful, Marian found she wanted him all over again. "Good morning, my husband," she murmured with a kiss.

Robin kissed her lovingly in return, but before he could speak his greeting, Much's voice interrupted them from just outside their bower.

"Good morning, Master!" chirped Much's bright morning voice. "I thought I heard you rustling about in there! Are you up? It's time you were up! I've cooked you a splendid breakfast, and you mustn't let it get cold!"

"Go away, Much!" Marian called to him, impatiently.

Robin propped himself up on one elbow. "I'll be along soon," he called to his loyal servant. "And I promise to eat more than one helping, if you'll only give me a few moments alone with my wife!"

"With your wife?" Much called back. "But, why? She's had your company all night long!"

"I was asleep most of the time," Robin reminded him. "I just want to bid her good morning, before we join the rest of the gang. Go on and dish me up a plate of whatever it is you cooked."

There was a pause, while Much decided what to do. "Alright," he grudgingly agreed at last. "But don't be long. I'll be counting the moments, if I only knew how to count."

"I suppose we'd better get up," Marian decided, none too pleased. "I can't very well concentrate on you, picturing Much counting away the minutes."

"Can't you now?" Robin asked, with a grin, pulling her back down to him after she'd risen. "I, on the other hand, am dying with curiosity to know just how high we can get Much to count!"

Marian's smile echoed her husband's, and they joyfully forgot everything but one another.

...

"I thought you were only saying, 'Good morning,' " Much huffed, angrily shoving a plate of cold, rubbery eggs at Robin, quite some time later. "I'm not saying anything."

"Eggs!" Robin cried, appreciatively. "Would you like some eggs, Marian?"

"I would love some," she said, smiling as she took a plate from a fuming Much.

Everyone else in the gang had long since eaten, but Robin didn't care. Everyone, with the exception of Much, appeared happy and busy. Even Kate had stopped her typical scowling, as she held swords for Little John to sharpen.

"Marian and I need to leave you lads alone this morning," Robin informed the gang.

"Alone! And just where are you two gallivanting off to, if I may ask?" Much asked snippily.

"We're going to pay a visit to Matilda," Marian answered for her husband. "Do you have any objections to that?"

"I suppose not," Much fumed. "Still, I hope it won't take you as long as it did, just to say 'Good morning!' "

"We'll be back before you can miss us," Robin grinned, grabbing his bow. And before Much could answer, Robin and Marian had disappeared through the foliage.

"Humph!" Much snorted, staring after them.

"What's your problem?" Allan asked.

"I'm not saying anything," Much responded.

...

Matilda was feeding her chickens when she spotted Robin and Marian step from the treeline, into the meadow surrounding her cottage.

"Robin!"

Matilda enfolded him in her motherly embrace and gave his scruffy cheek a noisy kiss. "And your lady! This is a surprise! Come, come, come, and tell me why you're here."

"It's a delicate matter," Marian began, slightly embarrassed, now that Matilda's sharp eyes were peering through her.

"Ah! Forget delicate!" Matilda advised. "I brought this one into the world, and nursed him through all his childhood ailments! You couldn't be delicate with me, if you dressed him in lavender silk and had him dance a galliard!"

Marian smiled at her husband, and he boldly began discusssing the reason for their visit.

"It concerns us having a child," Robin stated.

"A child! Congratulations!" Matilda crowed, grabbing and kissing Marian this time.

"No, we're not expecting," Marian corrected her. "We can't, you see, and we wonder if you can help us."

"Help you to conceive?" Matilda asked, somewhat brazenly. "I might. Tell me," she said, turning straight to Robin, "How often are you intimate, in a week's time? Twice?"

"Twice, a week? Is that all?" Robin scoffed.

"We're newlyweds," Marian explained, blushing.

"Well then, how much seed do you spill?"

"Matilda!" Robin cried, chaffed and embarrassed. "Don't ask me that! There's no problem with my virility!"

"Men!" Matilda scoffed, knocking him on the side of his head. "They always blame the woman, when nine times out of ten, the fault lies with them!"

"This must be the tenth time," Marian soberly explained. "Robin's not to blame, I am. I suffered a wound, and lost our child. And Djaq told me I'd probably never conceive another."

"A wound?" Matilda asked, surprised to hear the former Lady Marian had ever been expecting. "How far along were you when this happened?"

"I'm not sure. A few months. I was only just beginning to show."

"I see. Who wounded you? That slimey fox turd, Guy of Gisbourne?"

"How did you guess?" Robin asked, in a cold, hard voice.

"Come inside, and I'll look you over, and give you some advice. I've counselled many a lass who thought they'd never have a bairn, and before you knew it, they were making a beeline to my door, begging me for a potion to stop the bairns from coming!"

"I'd never ask you for that," Marian told her. "Robin and I want a house full of children, don't we?"

Matilda snorted. "You'll be singing a different tune, once you've squeezed out the fifth or sixth one, trust me. Now, no more talk. Let's take a look at your wound."