When Much arrived at Locksley Manor for his daily visit, he found Robin alone outside the house, silently and methodically shooting at targets.

Much waitied for Robin's arrow to fly to its mark, then cheerfully called, "Bit nippy to be shooting out here all alone! I'd have thought you'd gotten your fill of snow, living in Sherwood all those brutal winters!"

The look in Robin's eyes immediately informed Much he had better watch his tongue.

"You're angry," Much said nervously, sliding from his horse and tying him to a tree. "I know you're angry. I don't know why, exactly, but-"

Robin responded by loosing another arrow, which sailed to its mark, splitting the first one.

Much watched as Robin grimly ran to the target and pulled what was left of his arrows from the bulls eye. He shifted nervously on his feet when he saw Robin run approximately fifty paces from the target, then whip around and shoot, without appearing to aim. The arrow slammed into the target's center and throbbed about noisily. Much breathed out a slow, anxious sigh.

"Good shooting!" he called, forcing a smile to his lips. "Now, hadn't you better-"

An arrow whizzed an inch or so directly over Much's head, causing him to lose his cool.

"Unbelievable!" he cried, pulling off his elaborate, feathered hat and examining it for damages. "I will not stand being used for target practice!"

Wearing his most arrogant grin, Robin swaggered to his indignant, put upon friend, then grabbed the hat from his hands. Appearing to examine it, he teased, "Sorry. I mistook your hat for a pheasant. So many feathers, you know."

"You didn't!" Much roared, grabbing back his treasured hat.

"You're right, I didn't. I wouldn't have missed."

"Unbelievable!" Much repeated, hating Robin for snickering at him.

A moment later, after setting his hat upon his head, Much's annoyance dissipated, and concern for his friend took over.

"You've had an upset," he said, trying to calm his former master. "The count has done something to bother you. Now, what you need to do is-"

"It isn't the count," Robin admitted grimly. "It's Marian."

"Marian! Wha-wha-what's she done?"

Robin threw back his head and sighed. Much waited patiently, stomping his feet to warm them, until Robin was ready to confess.

When he spoke at last, his answer disappointed Much. "Come on, Much," he said. "Walk with me."

Much, who had been looking forward to sitting by the fireside at Locksley, enjoying a warming cup of cider, sputtered, "But but but but Robin...my horse!"

"Tell Ian to bring him in. Come on!" And instead of walking, Much watched Robin take off running toward his stables. "Why do I put up with him?" he asked himself aloud, staring after his friend in disbelief.

...

"Robin, the cave? You know I hate the cave!"

Reluctantly, Much followed Robin to the entrance of a large cave in Sherwood Forest...the same cave the former outlaw gang used to take shelter in whenever it rained.

"It'll be warmer in here, Much," Robin explained.

"It'll be dark, and nasty."

Ignoring his friend's complaints, Robin strode through the cave's entrance, then briskly rubbed his hands together to warm them. "There!" he said chirpily. "That's better!"

It wasn't. Outside, although the air was cold, the sun was shining. Inside the cave, it was dark and dreary, and the air was musty with the smell of bat droppings.

"I hate the cave!" Much repeated.

Robin, however, was in a far better mood than when Much had found him. The walk through the forest, together with his friend's company, had done wonders to restore his good humor. He was ready to talk about Marian.

"Much," he began, sitting on the ground, his back against the cave's wall, "do you remember Eve being especially difficult after the birth of any of your children?"

"Eve?" Much asked, carefully scouting the ground for a suitable place to sit. "Difficult? Never! Eve isn't like Marian, Robin. You should know that! Eve is never difficult!"

"Lucky you," Robin sneered, disapproving of Much insulting his wife.

"Look, Robin," Much urged, "why don't you just tell me what Marian's done, and we can have a nice little discussion, and figure out what to do?"

After a moment's pause, Robin began.

"I thought I was helping her," he admitted, "but she refuses to take my help."

"What help?" All at once, Much remembered their visit to Bette's cottage in Nettlestone. "Robin! You never told Marian about hiring Bette!"

"I told her...after the fact."

Much almost laughed. "And you're surprised she's angry? Robin!"

"What?"

"For someone whose cleverness is world famous, you're pretty foolish sometimes!"

"Yes. Well, you're in agreement with my wife on that count."

Much laid a comforting hand on Robin's forearm. "It looks like you're going to have to dismiss the wet nurse."

Robin jumped to his feet. "I can't send her back, Much! You saw the state her cottage was in!"

"Then give her another job to do. And apologize to Marian. It's the only way, Robin...that is, if you want peace in your household."

"No."

Much sighed. "Now, you're just being stubborn. Stop it. You know you can't win. Marian's as stubborn as you. If you two wait to see who will give in first, you'll be hiring a wet nurse for your grandchildren!"

"It's for her own good," Robin insisted. "You don't know how tired and difficult she's being. She needs her sleep. She can nurse Edward during the day, if she likes. But at night, Bette can do it. I'm only trying to help her."

"Have you told her?"

Robin, his eyes betraying how hurt he felt, shook his head.

Much rose to his feet. "Well, come on, man! You have some explaining to do!"