"How long have you been married?" Marian asked, seated at the count's table with Robin and Count Friederick's large family. She remained somewhat stunned, her image of the count as a cosmopolitan man of the world shattered by his unexpected domesticity. Five daughters and two sons, ranging in age from sixteen to five, sat quietly now, intent on eating their "kuchen." And his wife, so large and rosy and beaming! Marian wondered if she knew about the fair Helena, the count's mistress they had met leaving when they had arrived.
"It has been twenty-one happy years," the count answered, beaming as well until he stopped to bark a German scolding at his thirteen-year-old son about his lack of table manners.
"And how many unhappy ones, you wonder?" Countess Ermegard asked, then chuckled, her broad body jiggling with each laugh. "No, I jest! It has been twenty-one years, all of them happy, though we did have a, how you say it? A rocky honeymoon."
Marian looked down, while Robin turned loving, worried eyes on her. During their recent argument, he had inadvertently reminded her of the rape she had suffered on their honeymoon, bringing back all the trauma she had tried so hard to overcome. But Marian bravely mastered herself, squaring her shoulders and looking up, and the worried look in Robin's eyes was replaced by admiration.
"Like everything else in our lives," the count mentioned, "our marriage was arranged for us. Ermy's father was also a count, but we did not meet until just before the wedding. I was in love with someone else at the time and did not wish to marry, but did my duty."
"And I did not want to marry such a puny fellow." The countess shared another laugh with her husband. "But we grew to be the best of friends. Not one argument in twenty-one years!"
"Aw, how could I hurt my little Strudel by disagreeing?" the count asked, causing Marian to nearly choke on a bite of cake.
Robin hid his laughter, though his eyes sparkled with fun.
Much, dressed as Robin was in one of Count Friederick's too small robes, joined them for cake. Quite embarrassed, for the four oldest children had stood around his bath gaping at him while asking him questions in German, he nevertheless could not pass up an opportunity for cake.
The children, having finished eating, grew restless. "Go," their father ordered them. "Go chase each other up and down the stairs. But no more jumping on the beds!"
"We used to do that," Robin said, meaning Marian and himself, "on my boyhood bed. It was against the rules for us, too, but too much fun to resist."
Count Friederick caught the look that passed between Robin and Marian, a look filled with something far deeper than mere childhood memories. Had they enjoyed that bed after they were grown, before Robin had lost his home? But no. Marian had been a maiden when the count had first met her. He could always tell these things. Nonetheless, the couple shared some memory, related to what Robin had said.
All but one of the count's children left the table and began running noisily through their home. Only Elsa, the oldest, remained behind, her eyes on Much while he ate cake, believing herself in love.
"Go," he father ordered her. "Geh weg."
Sighing, her eyes still on Much, she left the table.
"That's a change," Much said. "They usually stare at Robin that way! Maybe in Bavaria, the girls have Much Fever! I must say, it's a nice change, though I'm already spoken for. Eve, you know. I wonder, with us so close to bringing home the king, we'll have everything we dreamed of? You two in Locksley, and me, with Eve, after I find her, in Bonchurch."
"I hope so, Much," Robin said. "I would like to talk business now. That is, if you two ladies will excuse us?"
The countess found him charming. "You men go on. Talk your boring business," she said. Taking hold of Marian, she added, "We two play cards. Come!"
Marian was bothered, being forced away when all she wanted was to be a part of Robin's plans to free the king. She had a plan of her own, however. Tomorrow morning, she would sneak into the count's coach and hide under the monk's robes, to travel undetected until she could show herself to the count. Robin and his men were planning to travel on horseback, but Friederick only rode short distances, for pleasure. His coach would be useful to bring back King Richard, should His Majesty be weakened from his captivity, or if he needed to travel in secret.
Marian's plan went no further than that. She'd think out the rest of it tonight, she believed, or else while she was hidden in the coach. The important thing for now was she would go without Robin knowing.
Her mind was not on the card game she played with the countess as she tried to listen to Robin, across the room, speak with Friederick and the gang. Marian's ears were sharp from her time as a spy, but Robin had deliberately turned his back to her, so that she could not even try to read his lips.
"Suspicious," she thought, without giving him credit for having the right to be so.
Realizing she couldn't hear what Robin was saying, she asked the countess, "How in the world can you be married twenty-one years, and never argue with your husband?"
...
The count's house in Tegernsee was finally still. Knowing they would have an early start in the morning, everyone had gone to bed early.
Robin lay asleep in Marian's arms. She was feeling especially tender toward him after all they had shared together tonight. She wondered, as she always did, how he could fall asleep so quickly afterwards. Being with him so thrillingly always made her wide awake, her body tingling though perfectly relaxed. But she loved holding him while he slept naked in her arms, her beautiful, beautiful Lord of Locksley.
He would be angry, she knew, when he discovered she was with him tomorrow. It was too bad, but he would get over it, as he always did when she made her own decisions that differed from his. She tried to think what she would do once they reached Aggstein. Of course she would have to pretend she was a nun and not a monk. But not knowing Robin's plans hampered her. No matter. She was used to charging into a fight without plans. Things always changed, anyway, she believed, in the heat of battle.
She heard Robin lovingly speak her name in his sleep. How lucky they were to love one another, she thought, and be husband and wife! With that happy thought, she closed her eyes and went to sleep at last.
...
She was late for breakfast, for Robin had let her sleep instead of waking her when he rose. Quickly, she dressed herself and ran downstairs, relieved the gang had not yet left, though they looked about to.
"Nothing for me, thank you," Marian told a servant. She was too excited to eat, knowing she must soon hide herself within the coach.
Allan approached her. "I guess this is it," he said. "If I don't come back, well, you know how I feel about you, Mar."
"Don't even suggest it," Marian said, frowning. "Robin will never let you die, any of you."
"Right. It dunn't help, though, those Aggsteins can only talk German and Robin can't."
"You're not frightened, surely! Not you, Allan a Dale. You always love a good fight."
He was, though. This battle, he knew, would be different from any they'd had in England.
His fear made Marian nervous, but she pushed aside her apprehension. All the more reason for her to go along and help them, she believed.
She sat down at the table, changing her mind about breakfast. She needed to eat something before travelling in the coach, if only to prevent feeling ill from being jostled along the road.
Before she knew what was happening, Robin had wrapped a thick rope around her, tying her to her chair.
"Robin of Locksley!" she cried, furiously. "I warned you once before, never to tie me up!"
"Sorry, my love," he said. "I do remember you saying that, but later, you asked me to do it, so I'm confused."
She was so angry she could hardly speak. Struggling against the ropes, she asked, "Do you mean in the tree? You know that was a ruse to fool Gisbourne, so you could get away! I should have let him get you!"
"And miss out on all the fun we've had since? No, you did right, though it tore my heart out at the time. I'm sorry, Marian. I really am, but I can't risk you coming on this mission. I love you."
"Untie me!" she demanded, frustrated and unhappy.
"Djaq will release you, thirty minutes after we've gone."
"I am sorry, Marian," Djaq told her. "It is best we listen to Robin."
Marian struggled against her ropes so hard, her chair toppled over. But still, her ropes remained tied.
Robin set her chair upright, kissed the top of head, took one last adoring look at her, then turned and dashed out of the house. His men followed him, to mount their horses.
"Auf wiedersehen, lovely Lady Marian. Never forget me, your servant and your friend," the count said. He kissed his blubbering wife on her tear stained cheek. "Do not cry, Ermy," he said. "I will return to you and the children. You know I always do."
Fear gripped Marian's heart. What if he did not return? What if one of the gang didn't? She forced herself not to even consider the possibility of Robin's death. No. He couldn't die. He would survive somehow. He always did. Even when she believed him dead, when she had been the sheriff's prisoner in the Holy Land, something within her refused to accept his death. And she had been right. All the same, he did often behave as if arrows would bounce off him.
She felt sick to her stomach. It was just as she had told Robin yesterday. She felt the same way she had, when he left her for war. Why hadn't she told him she loved him, she chided herself, instead of lashing out at him in anger?