"Tomorrow morning," Robin told his wife, first buying her and then himself a cup of cool apple cider from a booth at Nottingham's horse fair, "we give everybody in Locksley the day off, and bring Ellie here."

Marian's eyes smiled back at him in agreement from over her cup, before scanning the lines of horses for sale. "See any you like?" she asked, pleasantly.

"I like you."

Still smiling, she rolled her eyes. "I was referring to the horses, Handsome."

Robin chuckled wickedly. "What are you trying to do, Marian? Get me to buy you a horse, every time you're expecting?"

"No. Llanrei was quite enough, when Ellie was coming. I'm only asking your opinion. Why else are we here?"

"To watch the horse race, and just maybe, conduct a transaction of my own."

By this time, they'd finished their ciders, and were strolling hand in hand toward the horse vendors.

"The horse race!" Marian realized, stopping and dropping his hand. "Robin! You must enter!"

"You won't be jealous, when I win?"

She scoffed, good naturedly. "Jealous! Think what good we can do for others, with the prize money."

"Alright," he agreed, swaggering, "I'll do it. I'm only sorry you can't enter, so I can get my revenge and leave you behind me, in the dust."

"In your dreams."

Marian smiled proudly, knowing Robin was thinking back to a time when she had been just fifteen, and had secretly enterred a horse race disguised as a boy. Not long into the race, she had outdistanced every other rider but Robin, driving her roan stallion across the finish line before his by a nose, then sending him to claim her prize, when she saw her father would be the man presenting it.

Today, after enterring his name in the competition, they continued inspecting and discussing the horses, Robin completely happy just watching Marian enjoy herself. They were constantly interrupted, however, for Robin was popular among the people, who continually approached him to share a few words, thank him for his many acts of kindness, and wish him and his lady well. Robin thrived on their love, and Marian, grown used to it, merely smiled graciously and continued admiring the horses, all the while marvelling how her husband could lay aside his position and connect to the common people, without losing a touch of his dignity.

Left alone at last, Marian privately told Robin, "I don't think any of these horses are as fine as the ones in our stables," and he agreed.

"It'll be interesting to see how much they go for," he mentioned.

No one purchased a horse the first day of the fair, as everyone knew. Prospective buyers were shrewd enough to wait a few days for the asking prices to come down, and then make their counter offers. And so, it surprised Robin when he was approached by James Fitzhugh, whose excited wife Annora trailed behind him, still wearing Maggie's fake jewels.

Robin had learned from Annora, the night he'd first met her disguised as a monk at her husband's party, that Fitzhugh desired to buy a horse. The London based former merchant had never before owned one, but now believed he should purchase a horse of the finest pedigree, to support his new found station. And Robin, despising the man, was only too happy to "help."

"I hear you have a horse up for sale, Locksley," James Fitzhugh grumbled, swallowing his pride in his desire to buy "the best."

"You heard wrong," Marian stated, not even trying to hide her dislike of the couple.

"Now, Marian," Robin said with a charming smile, "it's possible I might sell one from our stables. After all, you said yourself, think of all the good we can do with some extra money."

"We're not selling our horses," she objected, an attractive flush of color rising in her cheeks. She wouldn't say it, but she'd rather die than sell any of their beloved horses to that foolish Annora Fitzhugh and her cold hearted husband. What was Robin thinking?

The carefully guarded gleam in his eye and his earlier mention of a "transaction of his own" made her realize he was up to something. Marian decided not to stand in his way.

"Which one are you thinking?" she asked, appearing to relent.

His answer made her bite her tongue to keep from laughing. "I was thinking of Willy," he admitted casually.

"Willy" was so named after England's Conquerer King, aptly referred to by all good Saxons as "Willy the Bastard." For Willy the horse had been born after Robin's prized pedigree destrier Achilles had mounted a plough mare, much to Marian's chagrin. In fact, Willy was one of the horses that had pulled their coach to Nottingham today, and anyone with any knowledge of horse flesh could tell by looking he wasn't worth what it cost to feed him.

"Alright," Marian agreed, her eyes sparkling with fun. "But be sure to get a good price."

"How much then, Locksley?" James Fitzhugh asked.

Annora's heart was beating so loudly, she was certain everyone closeby could hear it. And so, even though Robin only looked kindly at her now and again, every glance to her was filled with meaning.

"What do you say to a reprieve for His Majesty's barber?" Robin demanded, no longer playing. "That should more than pay for him."

"Impossible. The king insists, the man must die."

"You have influence, surely. Is your conscience so cold, you'll allow this injustice to happen?"

"What injustice?" Marian asked, alarmed.

Robin quickly explained what he knew, causing Marian's face to pale. "We must stop him!" she cried, and Robin squeezed her hand.

"No one can stop him," the chancellor snorted. "How much for your horse, Locksley?"

Robin's eyes narrowed, just before he named an exorbitant price.

James Fitzhugh balked, for only for a moment. "Very well," he agreed at last. "I assume we shake hands now. Isn't that what's customary?"

Grinning again at the man's ignorance, Robin stuck out his hand, and the deal was done. "He's yours," he told the chancellor, thinking with satisfaction how the man would be laughed at. "Provided you pay me the agreed amount, of course."

"Of course. Come, Annora."

"Well," Robin said smugly, once he and Marian were alone again, "that takes care of this year's taxes for the people of Locksley!"

"What a fool!" Marian said, staring after the chancellor. "But Robin, what are we going to do about the barber? We can't let him hang, for a bad haircut!"

Robin wasn't about to tell her his plan for tonight. He felt that Marian, in her delicate condition, had seen more than enough adventure for one day.

"I think a more pressing question for us right now," he said with a wink, "is how to get you home, with only one horse pulling our carriage."

Marian gasped in surprise. It wasn't like Robin to make light of a hanging, unless...

He was planning something, Marian felt sure, and she didn't appreciate him keeping her in the dark. But before she could open her mouth to object, they found themselves face to face with an angry Maggie.