"Robin, we need to find a way out of here."
Marian, dressed only in her light chemise, nervously paced the floor to Robin's chamber in the Louvre, while her husband sat up in bed admiring her, wearing nothing at all but a satisfied grin. King Philip's imprisonment suited him just fine.
"Why?" he teased. "When we're having so much fun?"
Marian stopped pacing, climbed onto the bed, and smilingly said, "I'm not denying it hasn't been fun. But think about it, dear. There's nothing to drink but wine, nothing to do but..." Her voice trailed off.
Robin snickered under his breath. "We've been talking, too," he protested. "And sleeping. And eating. All the basics. You're not tired of me already, are you, Lady Locksley?"
"Of course I'm not tired of you. Just sick of these four walls, this stale air, that filthy chamber pot we're expected to share...I suppose if I drank more wine it wouldn't bother me so much, but..." She looked as though she was about to burst into tears.
Robin's grin faded when he realized how distraught she was. "Come here," he said, enfolding her gently in his arms. As he tenderly stroked her hair, he explained, "It's alright, my love. While you were asleep, I was thinking. I have a plan, Marian."
"A plan to escape?" she asked with hope, pulling away to look at his face.
"That's right. You catch on quick." He winked and tapped the end of her nose affectionately. "I've been away from our girls longer than you have, you know. I need to get home."
She smiled at him again, her eyes shining. "So, what's the plan, Robin? What do we do?"
"Well, we can't break out of here alone. Not even with King Philip such a coward."
"A coward? I thought he fought in the Crusade with you."
"Trust me, Marian...he's a coward. He's afraid to ride any horse but the oldest, tamest one in France."
She looked at him in disbelief. Absolutely fearless herself on horseback, she couldn't understand anyone who wasn't. "You're joking."
"It's true," he replied seriously. "But it doesn't matter. We're not competing in a horse race; we're trying to break out of here. We need Ursula."
Marian didn't speak for a moment. She clapped her lips together and immediately looked away. "Ursula?" she asked coldly. "The fortune teller?"
Robin could read his wife's emotions. He drew a deep breath and let it out in a long drawn out sigh. So, she suspected something about his past liaison with the red head, did she? It was uncomfortable, but he'd better just tell the truth and clear the air. It hadn't meant anything, anyway. He'd already told Marian all he remembered...she just never had a face with a name before.
"You seem to have guessed...I met her on my way home from Acre, Marian. I seriously don't remember the details, because it didn't mean anything to me. I liked her better than the others, but I never loved her. I never even think about her. We spent one night together, that was all. Please forgive me. Please don't be sad."
Marian lifted sad eyes to his face, but her lips were smiling. "It doesn't matter, Robin. It's in the past. I know you love me." She sighed. "But how can she help us now?"
He smiled slowly, thankful Marian was confident of his love. Putting his arm around her and drawing her close again, he answered happily, "By putting on quite a show."
...
With covered head, Kate walked into a chapel in Kirklees Abbey, ready to appeal directly to God at the altar, to bring Robin home without Marian in tow.
"Do what you like with her," she prayed. "She can drown or get diseased, or choke on her food. But bring him home safe."
She genuflected and rose, confident her prayers would be answered. She nearly skipped back up the aisle, but stopped when her path was blocked by a woman just her size.
"Don't tell me you're here for the communion wine," the woman mocked. "I didn't realize the church was in such disrepair. The very gargoyles have fallen to the ground."
"Shut up," Kate spat. "You shouldn't be in a church. I'm surprised you haven't burst into flames."
They stared at one another for a brief moment, then pulled out their claws and began fighting. They scratched and bit and clawed at one another, pulling each other's hair and falling to the ground, rolling down the aisle of the stone floor, while the carved saints looked silently on. After a time, the Abbess rushed in and pulled them apart.
"How dare you defile the house of the Lord?" the Abbess asked.
"She started it," Kate whined.
"I do not care who began it. You were both willing participants. Now, go! Both of you! You are not welcome here anymore."
Isabella of Gisbourne glared at Kate. "Now, just where am I supposed to go?" she asked.
"Go to Nottingham. A house near the Trip. You'll find the very image of your brother there."
"What are you talking about? Guy's dead."
Kate looked smug. "His son's not. Congratulations. You're an aunt. I think it's time Seth met his real family."
Isabella's blue eyes widened as she listened. Another Gisbourne? Guy's son? How interesting! Perhaps he could be of use to her. Perhaps for once, the idiot Kate might just have made sense.
Isabella strode from the Abbey, determined to meet her nephew.