"Now," Count Friedrick instructed Marian, trying to teach her what he considered a delightful card game, "diamonds trump hearts, while diggers trump clovers."
"Clovers?" she asked with amusement, growing interested at last.
"Clubs, rather," the count insisted, rather huffily.
"Clubs trump 'diggers?' "
Count Friedrick smiled, the wise careful smile of a man who was weary of the world he chose to live in.
"You are teasing me, I see! But yes...I was given a lesson in cards myself, by your Grace. 'Diggers,' I can live with, at least while I'm graciously housed under your roof. But "clovers'...Never!"
Marian stifled a yawn through mild laughter. The count immediately apologized.
"Ah! Forgive me for boring you, Marian. I fear with my wound, there is little I can do to please."
"Oh, no...Forgive me, Count! I am just a little tired, that is all."
"I thought we agreed you should call me 'Friedrick.' "
"Forgive me again."
Marian was more than a little tired...she had not had a decent night's sleep since her baby was born. At least she could look forward to her ride this afternoon with Robin. Racing on horseback through snowy fields in the fresh chilly air with her "best friend" would do wonders to restore her good spirits.
But what of the count? Surely he needed to get out, as well! She appreciated his patience and good humor, being stuck in a bed in someone else's house, staring at four walls, while the world outdoors was gloriously blanketed in snow! Suddenly, she longed to help him!
"You must come with us," she decided.
"Come with...? Who? Where?"
"Come riding with Robin and me. Surely you can sit on a horse! You won't be walking, after all. And your wound won't open. Yes...you must join us."
Count Friedrick's eyes twinkled. Ach, ja! Her invitation was just what the doctor would have ordered, had the doctor guessed how much enjoyment the count would have openly flirting with the lovely Marian right under Robin Hood's nose! The count grudgingly admitted the former outlaw had nothing to fear from him, yet Robin Hood did not yet seem to grasp that sad, sad fact. It would be so delightful to enjoy a flirtation with Marian, and watch her husband grow increasingly jealous. The afternoon could not arrive soon enough!
...
Although Much was voicing his complaints, Robin ignored the cold seeping through his boots, biting his toes. He'd learned to endure harsh weather, being baked alive in his armor under the unrelenting sun in Acre, and living through three winters in Sherwood Forest, almost never having an opportunity to get warm for even a few minutes.
"Please to come in, Master Robin?" invited Bette, a young widow in Nettlestone, clutching her baby to her breast.
Stomping their feet to shake off the snow, Robin and Much thanked her and followed her inside her dim, damp, smokey cottage.
"Soon as I go," Robin told her kindly, handing her food parcels, "I'll return with Will Scarlet. He'll mend that broken shutter, and help keep out the cold. Now, is there anything else that needs repairing?"
To Much's embarrassment, Bette began to weep. Much shifted about awkwardly, wiping away his own sympathetic tears, while Robin reached out and covered her hand with his own comforting one.
"It's alright," he told her soothingly. "We are so sorry for your loss. Walter was a good man."
Swallowing her sobs, Bette turned a brave smile on Master Robin. Thankfully, she knew she needn't worry. Master Robin would make certain she kept a roof over her head, and wouldn't starve. Still, she was lonely and broken hearted, and didn't know what she should do.
Her baby started to cry, demanding to be fed. "He needs to eat," she apologized.
A gust of wind tore through the cottage, nearly blowing out the meager fire in the fire pit. Robin realized it would take much more work than Will could handle to make the cottage comfortable. His face looked grave when he noticed a thin layer of ice on the water in a rusty basin.
All at once, a plan began to form in his mind. A slow grin spread over his features, as Much shivered and coughed from the smoke filling the cottage.
"Bette," he suggested, "I need you to give this some thought. How would you and your baby like to come live in my household?"
"Master Robin?"
"Robin?" Much echoed the young mother's question.
"Edward needs a wet nurse," Robin decided, without thinking to consult his wife, but remembering her tears from last night. "You two could sleep in his room with him at night. Then, once he's weened, you could stay on, if you'd like, or be free to go. I promise you, we treat our servants well. Isn't that right, Much?"
Much, now Lord Bonchurch, resented Robin continuing to treat him as his servant. "But my resentment will be nothing compared to Marian's, when she learns of your plan," Much thought, with grim satisfaction.