Marian had been correct when she had teased Robin about what kind of patient he would be. He was indeed terrible.

He did not mean to be. He truly tried to be patient and appreciative of all the care lavished on him, chiefly by Much. But he was failing, epically.

He chaffed at having to remain in his bunk. He refused to stay still. He resisted having Much do everything for him. And he resented not being at the forefront of matters, while people needed him.

Marian's mood was not much better. Visiting Henry's family several times, she felt impotent rage toward the sheriff for blinding the child, and sorrow and frustration for being unable to offer any real help to a family overcome by grief.

Her own grief was still raw and at the anger stage, and she wanted to wander into the forest alone, just to breathe. But Little John seemed to think it his duty to shadow her. She rightly suspected Robin had assigned him that duty, as if she needed constant protection.

And as for her relationship with Robin, she was as irritated as he that they were never alone together. Not since that magical night earlier in the week, when she'd slept on the ground with her head on his bunk, had they enjoyed a single moment alone to share one another's thoughts, one another's company, one another's smiles, or one another's lips, without some member of the gang watching and listening. Mostly Much, of course.

"Well now, Master," Much was saying now, approaching Robin with a bowl of steaming stew and a spoon, "I think you'll like this. Very nourishing. Open wide."

"I'm not an infant," Robin snapped. "Undo these bandages, and let me feed myself."

"Djaq says no," Much responded, nervously. "And if I may say so, she's right. If you hadn't done all that extra damage with your heroics, you'd be a lot farther along now in your recovery. But as it is, Djaq says you mustn't move your neck, your shoulders, or your arms, so it's my responsibility to feed you. Now, don't be angry. Why don't you just settle down, and enjoy this delicious stew I've cooked especially for you?"

Robin clamped his mouth shut.

"You'll get thin again, as thin as you got in Acre, when you took sick from your wound and almost died."

Robin only glared at him.

"Help me, Marian," Much whispered, calling on his secret weapon to combat Robin's stubbornness. But his secret weapon was as stubborn as his master.

"Much is right," she told Robin bitterly. "You ought to cooperate with him. He's worn to a frazzle, doing his regular duties and now, everything else for you. Others could help. For example, yesterday, when Djaq changed your bandages, someone else could have sponged you off."

Robin's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Are you volunteering?"

She had meant herself, but she didn't want to admit it. She'd watched Much sponge off Robin's arms, back, and torso while his bandages were off with avid interest, until Robin caught her staring and winked at her. Then she could only steal glances. She wished she could have been the one to perform what would have meant so much to her. But now, with her nerves on edge, she grew angry at Robin snickering so smugly at her. "If you hadn't been showing off to impress that tavern girl, you might be healed by now."

"Showing off?" Robin repeated, incredulous, all mischief gone. "That's not fair. I was trying to save you...all of you! I did save you."

"Singlehandedly, without any help at all. Oh! I forgot! That tavern girl helped you."

"Her name is Hannah, and that's right, she did. I thought you'd be grateful."

"To her, or to you?"

"To both of us."

"Oh, so there's an 'us'? And how grateful were you, Robin? I remember she used the word 'again' when she asked you to kiss her."

"I'm grateful she obeyed every order I gave her, immediately and without question."

"Like a tame little spaniel?"

"Better tame than a rabid one."

"Now, Master...now, Marian," Much interrupted anxiously. "You don't mean what you're saying. You each get carried away, and begin enjoying arguing back and forth so much, you say things-"

"I also remember," Marian continued jealously, "how she spilled right out of her blouse while she was bending over you."

"I shouldn't have missed that."

"You saw it. I watched your eyes glaze over."

"Maybe you should lean over me once in awhile." He was instantly ashamed. "I am so sorry. I did not mean that."

"How dare you?" Blushing with embarrassment and shame, Marian grabbed Robin's prized Irish knife and ran out of the camp, into the forest.

"Go after her, John," Robin said. "No, wait. I'll go."

"Master, I know Djaq and Will are not here to stop you, but Little John and I insist-"

"Let him go," Little John ordered.

"Thank you, John," Robin said. "Can you help me out of these bandages? I can't touch her, I can't hold her, with my arms bound."

"Master-"

"Much," said Little John, cutting Robin free, "shut up."