"Better let me take charge of that," Robin said cockily, taking Marian's purse from her before they ventured out among the streets of London.
"Why?"
Marian didn't like his proprietary attitude. She felt perfectly capable of spending their money wisely. But Robin's concern had nothing to do with her spending habits.
"Allan taught me all I know about pick pockets," he explained. "I'm less of a target than you, my love. So, if you want to bring back a lighter purse instead of no purse at all, I suggest you let me handle our money today."
Marian snatched the purse out of his hands. "Don't forget," she told him, "I lived with Allan, too, in the castle. He taught me as much as he taught you."
Robin shook his head and snickered. "I don't think so."
Quickly, Marian slid the purse down her bodice, right between her breasts. She was wearing a high waisted gown gathered directly under her breasts, so the purse lodged there without slipping lower. She smiled proudly at her surprised husband.
"Well," Robin said, beginning to grin, "that is one place I wouldn't mind going treasure hunting."
"Grow up," she fondly teased him. "What's wrong?"
A shadow had saddened his expression. For a moment, he'd been reminded of Isabella, lifting her gown to pull her purse from her garter to supposedly assist his people after their church burned, while in actuality she had done it to tempt him. And it had worked all too well.
He hadn't thought of Isabella in years, but having recently met her again, she seemed to haunt his thoughts.
Robin admitted his concerns. "I was just remembering, Isabella's living near Locksley. I don't like being away, knowing her taste for revenge."
"But you warned everyone before we left. Little John's staying in our house to help guard the girls. And Will and Djaq are ready to defend the village, if she should step one foot near it."
"And there's Kate," Robin added, but Marian regarded Kate as more of a liability than an asset.
"Forget Isabella, and Kate," Marian advised, a twinge of jealousy prickling her. "I thought you were going to show me London."
They had a wonderful time. Robin playfully took back the purse and paid their fare to travel by boat on the Thames, avoiding a long walk through the crowded streets. Sitting beside Marian as their boat glided to the regular rhythm of the boatman's oars, with his arm around her waist and her head on his shoulder, Robin felt a world away from his troubles. He knew now for certain he would not leave his family or his village to serve the king in battle. How could he leave them, being concerned for their safety by just being away a few short days in London? And he would never hurt Marian that way again, knowing that leaving her the first time had been a mistake.
The boat docked near London Bridge, the only bridge connecting London to the south. Robin had to lift Marian out of the boat so she wouldn't get her feet or stockings wet. It was always a pleasure to hold her, no matter what cause. Robin explained to Marian the bridge was almost completed, being rebuilt from stone, since the previous wooden bridges often had to be replaced, either from rotting or having caught fire. Shops were soon to open along the bridge, as well as a large gothic chapel to honor Thomas a Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury who had been murdered in his own cathedral because of the previous king's complaint against him.
But the bridge was not yet open to traffic, so the couple strolled through the city streets.
Stall vendors shouted out their wares, and people pushed their way forward. Because the streets were so noisy and crowded, Robin held his arm around Marian's waist to steer her along. She was interested in all the sights, sounds, and even the smells, but he saw her casting worried glimpses now and then at him, followed by smiles. "What are you thinking?" he asked, grinning down at her, happy to be sharing her company.
She gave a small giggle. "I keep remembering all the times we walked this way through Nottingham, telling each other what we knew about the sheriff's schemes, and it worries me now and then that your face isn't hidden by a hood."
Robin threw back his head and laughed.
"Sorry, me lord," a man said, bumping into Robin and trying to steal his purse. But thanks to Allan, Robin was well aware of that trick, and the wouldbe thief left empty handed.
There were stalls selling food and goods all along the riverbank, and Marian enjoyed shopping for their daughters. But none of the playthings she saw matched the wooden toys Will carved for her daughters, so she turned her attention to fabrics she could have made into clothing for them.
"Pick out something for yourself as well, if you like," Robin suggested.
She carefully examined the fabrics and bought some lovely linens and damask for her daughters and herself. At a perfumery stall, she enjoyed dabbing various scents on her wrist for Robin to sniff. "Which do you like best?" she asked.
He didn't really care, but knew better than to tell her that. "That one," he said, pointing randomly to a bottle.
"Really?"
He could tell she didn't approve of his choice. "I meant that one," he decided, pointing to a different bottle.
"You don't care, do you?"
"They all smell good on you, Marian. Choose the one you like best."
She did, and they spent time looking at weapons, which he enjoyed.
Their shopping completed, Robin led Marian toward the White Tower, another London residence of the royal family, as well as a prison. Richard was adding to the Tower, so the area was noisy with the sounds of sawing, hammering, and masonery. Leading Marian away from the river through a garden, Robin stopped at St Michael's well for a drink of its supposedly healing waters.
"There!" he teased, after she had drunk. "Our son will be a warrior."
"Because of St. Michael? If we do have a boy, should we name him Michael, do you think?"
"Whatever you want. But I was hoping we might name him Richard."
What he said reminded Marian that he'd promised he would tell her about his audience with the king. But it was nearly impossible to have a conversation amid the noise and the crowds in the streets.
"Can we go somewhere to talk?" she asked.
Robin led her inside a small establishment where meat pies, fish, and drink were sold, then found an empty table in a corner.
"This is fun," Marian said.
Both drank from frothy tankards...Marian milk and Robin ale. "I recommend the fish," Robin told his wife. "It's fresh from the river, while you never know what they put in their meat pies."
"So," Marian pursued, after Robin had ordered the fish, "what did the king say when you told him you won't fight?"
"I'm supposed to give him my answer tonight."
Marian went pale. Surely Robin wasn't considering leaving her?
"Tell him you won't go," she insisted, feeling she was reliving a nightmare. But his next words assured her.
"I already did." He held her hand and stroked it while looking deeply into her eyes. "And I'll repeat my refusal tonight. I won't leave you, Marian. I swear it."
She blinked back tears.
After an emotional moment, they regained their composure. Robin told her, "There is one good piece of news. The king's naming Queen Eleanor as Regent instead of Prince John."
"A woman in charge!"
"Not just any woman! But I knew you'd be pleased."
"England is safe. Thank God we won't repeat all we went through before. But I wish the king would stay and rule us and..."
She did not need to finish. All law abiding English people wanted Richard to beget an heir so that Prince John would no longer be next in line to the throne. Richard's wife, Queen Berengaria of Navarre, was beautiful and clearly in love with him, but so far, had not been blessed with a child.
Marian gave a small gasp. Robin looked inquiring at her, and smiled when he saw her face light up with joy. "I just felt our baby move," she told him.
He wanted to put his hand over her belly to feel it, too, but couldn't in public.
He was right not to leave her, he knew, more and more sure of his decision. He hated disappointing the king he revered, but his love for his wife and their children dwarfed all other loyalties.