Guy of Gisbourne strode down the castle steps on his way to the dungeons. Passing the kitchens, he hoped to avoid Annie. He didn't like seeing her, now that her belly was pumped out with his child.
Annie heard the jingle of his spurs as he passed, however, and hurried toward him.
"Guy! Oh, Guy! I've missed you!" She seized him in an embrace, and did not see his upper lip curl in disgust.
He removed her from his body. "Annie, I am busy today. Sheriff's business."
She sighed unhappily. He was always busy of late.
"I felt our baby kick today, Guy! Isn't it wonderful! When can we...when can we be married?"
"Soon. Now, I fear we must both get on with our work."
"Yes. Yes, of course, Guy." She watched him longingly as he turned a corner. She would wait here for him, and catch him on his way back, after he had finished his gruesome business in the dungeons.
She knew nothing about his pursuit of Marian, nor about the castle laundress his body now enjoyed whenever his urges prompted him.
...
Much supported Robin's weakened body, walking him up and down past rows of cots in the Hospitaller's hospital in Acre. Now that Much's constant prayers for Robin's recovery had been answered, he allowed himself to grumble that Robin was far from a grateful, ideal patient.
"Now, Master, there must be a reason you're called a 'patient,' but I must confess, I do not see it. You are anything but patient! You are not yet strong, Robin, and you must accept that. You can't go chasing after the king to fight his battles with him again. King Richard left orders for you to return home, so you may fully recover, before you go charging off into battle again. It's a sort of compliment really. I think the king wants to keep you alive. After everything you've done here, you should have been dead already, Robin...many times over.""
"I do not wish to return home, Much, not while the king needs me."
"Yes. Well...what is it you always told me you were instructed to be? Toward your king and country, that is?"
Robin sighed. "Loyal and obedient," he answered.
"That's right! Loyal and obedient! So, how is it being 'obedient' to disobey your king? Besides, if you ask me, we've seen more than our share of fighting around here. Do you really want to kill more Saracens, Robin? Do you? I know I don't."
Robin didn't answer. Much was right...he never wanted to kill anyone ever again. Much understood, to a small degree, how Robin's opinion had changed toward the fight in the Holy Land. Even though he still revered his king, Robin wanted no more part in the senseless, bloody slaughter.
"It will be good to go home," he admitted.
"Exactly! And if you continue mending at the rate you've been, it won't be long before we head there!" Much turned his big round eyes on Robin, smiling eagerly. "Just think, Robin...home!"
Robin did think, with a mixture of emotions flooding him. He longed for home with his whole heart, yet his heart was not whole. Not if Marian were married, as he guessed her to be by now.
They had been parted nearly five years. He was twenty-four...she would be twenty-two come summer. Why did he still feel this way? How could his heart care so much? He needed to forget her, once and for all.
He had survived numerous battles, a near fatal wound, and disease that would have taken any lesser man. Thank God he was finished with war...forever. He was young and alive. Women were drawn to him, he could tell. It was time he started enjoying himself.
Why should he take Love seriously? Was he not as good an archer as Eros? Better, probably. Love would be a game he could play...an exciting game, and it wouldn't disappoint, the way War had disappointed. The first rule was not to care. The second was to play along. If a beautiful woman fancied him, who was he to refuse her? He needed the protection of a slew of beautiful women behind him before he could go home. It seemed the only way he'd be able to face Lady Aylesbury when he'd meet her again in Nottingham.
...
The Nightwatchman crept toward the Scarlet home in Locksley with bundles to help the stricken family. She brought food packages, medicine, and wine to ease Dan's pain. She couldn't imagine the pain he must feel from having his hand chopped off.
Will and Luke Scarlet were both in their teens. Two teenage boys were bound to be hungry. Teenage boys always were. No wonder they had shot a deer. She remembered how she used to tease Robin about how hungry he and Much had always been when they were fifteen. Yet they had always had plenty to eat. What of the Locksley village boys...or any of the other poor hungry people in the shire? There were more and more of them destitute. It shouldn't be a crime for them to hunt. It should be a crime not letting them provide for themselves!
She shot an angry glance toward Locksley Manor, where Gisbourne had taken her to dine today. She hadn't been able to eat. The trauma of knowing Dan Scarlet had been right outside, enduring having his hand chopped off, had stolen her appetite.
Gisbourne had been offended when she wouldn't eat. Robin's servants had cooked a feast for her to enjoy with Gisbourne, but she hadn't been able to touch a crumb.
It was ironic there was so much food prepared for just the two of them, while the villeins right outside the door starved. It was wrong...evil, even.
"Don't insult me," Gisbourne had said when she refused the food, as if her lack of appetite reflected poorly on him. For her father's sake, she had tried to force down a few bites, but that was the best she could do. When she explained she had lost her appetite, Gisbourne ordered the food taken away to be fed to Robin's pigs. At that, Marian had objected.
"Sir Guy," she had appealed, "could we not invite the villagers to dine with us? They are hungry. They would not be forced to steal if they didn't have to. They are good, decent people."
Gisbourne had looked at her as if she had just uttered blasphemy.
"Why should they work, if they are coddled? They are lazy. That is the problem with this village. For too long, its people were coddled. They never learned to work. Now, they are starving. It is Huntington's fault."
The Nightwatchman continued her rounds. She listened wistfully to Alice Little sing a lullaby to her son John. The poor boy was lame, yet he worked alongside his mother in the fields...Robin's fields, now under Gisbourne's care.
When Robin had lived here, he had allowed his serfs to take as much grain as they needed, and everyone had more than enough. Most lords allowed their serfs to take as much as they could carry on the end of a scythe, which wasn't very much. But Gisborne allowed them to take none of it. They were expected to work in the fields, yet their labors benefited no one save Gisbourne. Was it any wonder their work suffered?
The lullaby was pretty, but sad. Marian fought back the sadness in her heart. What she wouldn't give to be singing a lullaby to children of her own! Every one of her imaginery babes looked just like...no.
Gisbourne was right. Her father agreed with him, and so did she. All the suffering in this village was indeed Robin's fault. Not because he had coddled them, but because he had deserted them. She held him responsible for his people's suffering, and for her own. She would never forgive him for leaving them.