"Why is there no milk?" Isabella demanded of Thornton. "When your prince visits a country village, he insists upon drinking milk!"
Thornton cleared his throat. "The cow, I'm afraid, milady, has dried up."
"Dried up? Why?"
"Your ladyship's nuns meant well, but they overfed Bessie on apples."
"Who, in God's name, is Bessie," Isabella scolded, "and what has she to do with the cow drying up?"
Thornton heaved a quiet sigh, hoping that Isabella would show him the same patience he was paying her. Only yesterday she had ordered some nuns wear hair shirts and fast for a week because they'd complained the thatch needed replacing on several cottage roofs. "Bessie is the cow, my lady," he explained. "Having swallowed an over abundance of apples, they fermented inside her, making her intoxicated."
"The cow was drunk?"
"Unfortunately, yes, causing her milk to dry up."
"Then find another cow!" Isabella shrieked. "The prince demands milk!"
Prince John appeared in the doorway, holding its frame as if steadying himself on board a capsizing ship at sea. Having just arisen from bed, he was clothed in a rich brocade robe and wore slippers on his feet. "Did my royal ears deceive me?" he cried out tragically. "I must have milk!" Having created the impression he desired, he strode into the room and menacingly circled Thornton and Isabella, who had dropped to bow and curtsey in acknowledgment of his royal presence.
"Sire," Isabella began nervously, knowing any minor misstep could cause Prince John to turn against her, "this wretched servant claims the cow has dried up! What shall we do, without milk to nourish us?"
She judged if she could unite herself to the prince's tragedy and share his grief, all might still go well with her. But Prince John wanted to be the sole martyr, so that he alone could garner sympathy.
"I must have milk!" Prince John repeated, pouting and stamping his foot petulantly. "Why do you deny your prince what he craves?"
"I will find you another cow, my king," Isabella promised.
"I don't want another cow," he insisted, beginning to seethe with anger. "I want the same milk Locksley feeds his brats!"
"Of course, Sire," Isabella said. Rising gracefully to her feet, she ordered Thornton, "Have that cow milked!"
Thornton eased himself painfully to stand. "It is impossible, as I told Your Ladyship. The cow's milk dried up, due to intoxication."
Prince John started to scream, but suddenly stopped. "A drunken cow? How amusing! And you say drink made its milk dry up? Funny, being drunk always makes the laundress Hawes' milk gush, whenever she presents me with another tiresome bastard."
Isabella steeled her expression so the prince would not recognize her disgust. At least he seemed amused and distracted by the idea of a drunken cow.
"Wine will suffice," Prince John decided, "since Locksley's cow no longer serves its purpose. Have it slaughtered, for denying me what I long for."
"See to it, Thornton," Isabella ordered. "Sire, I-"
"Wait!" Prince John commanded. "Thornton, is it? Kiss my royal hand, Thornton, before you depart upon your errand."
Thornton bent his face to obey, but Prince John pulled his hand away and cried out, "Disgusting! Foul old man breath! You must not kiss my hand, but my feet instead!"
This was one of the games he had played upon the Irish lords when his father had given him Ireland to rule, in addition to pulling out their beards with his hands until they rose against him in rebellion.
Painfully, Thornton got down again in a bowing posture, then leaned further down to kiss Prince John's foot. Just as the old man's lips were about to make contact, the prince kicked him as hard as he could, causing Thornton to fall over backwards.
Prince John gleefully laughed. "Wonderful!" he cried. "Do you know, my pet," he asked Isabella, "whom it would really amuse me to play this little game on?"
"Who, Sire?" she asked, trying not to show her distaste.
"Robin of Locksley himself! Where is he, anyway, now that I've given you his home? Don't tell me he's laying his head down again in the forest!"
"No, Sire. He's staying at Bonchurch Lodge, with-"
Isabella screamed as an arrow whizzed past her nose and landed throbbing in the fireplace mantle.
"No longer in Bonchurch," Robin said cockily, entering his home with a brash, bold swagger. "My visit is over, as is yours to my house, Isabella."
Isabella's pulse quickened and warmth flooded her veins, as always happened to her in Robin's presence. She wanted him to look at her, but he had gone straight to Thornton and was helping the man to his feet.
"Welcome home, Master," Thornton said happily. Seeing Marian, he added, "Mistress."
"Mistress!" Prince John delightedly cried, also discovering Marian's presence. "What a marvelous idea!"
"John," Queen Eleanor's voice warned. "Still wanting what will never be yours?"
"Mother!"
Queen Eleanor stepped forward with Robin's gang appearing behind her.
"Guards!" Prince John cried weakly, his voice a squeak.
"Not bein' funny," Allan spoke up, "but your guards are almost as useless as Gisbourne's."
"Mother," Prince John stuttered, "my dear, darling maman! Thank God you are alright! I had nothing whatever to do, you understand, don't you, dear, of locking you in that castle?"
"Perhaps I should repay the favor to you," she suggested.
Prince John made an effort to run, but Little John stopped and held him, at the queen's command.
"Now," Queen Eleanor stated, "I return Locksley to you, Robin, and to you, Lady Marian. These nuns in residence will return to their abbey, and your people may once again live in their homes, under your protection."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Robin said.
"And as for you, Isabella of Gisbourne," the queen began.
Isabella threw herself at Queen Eleanor's feet. "Please, Your Majesty!" she cried. "I beseech you, show me mercy! I am but a poor woman, a pawn for every man who uses me for his pleasure, then tosses me aside after promising to protect me! Cruel, cruel!"
Everyone could see she was accusing Robin, who looked away, his face tormented by guilt.
"Please!" Marian huffed. "You are no pawn!"
"Enough!" Queen Eleanor commanded. "I know who she is...the serpent in your Garden of Eden. But unlike the ending in the story, it is the serpent who shall be banished and man and wife reinstated, to live out their days happily doing good to others and to one another. But only after they agree to a well deserved holiday in beautiful, sunny Aquitaine! What say you, Robin? Marian?"
"Your Majesty," Robin began, "that is a very kind offer, but-"
"But what? It will be gloomy and rainy here shortly, while in my home dukedom, the sun almost always shines. Travel now, while your wife still can enjoy it. You have certainly earned it."
Robin could see from the sparkle in Marian's eyes that she wanted to go. "May we take our daughters?" Marian asked.
"Of course you may!" the queen answered.
Robin chuckled, then said, "Let me have one week here, to see that everyone's settled and have all they need, before we go."
"Of course," Queen Eleanor agreed. "And will you do me one more favor, along your journey?"
"Anything, Your Majesty," Robin said.
"You may deliver the news of John's treachery and my rescue to King Richard. I will write a dispatch for you to carry to him, along with my command he not pressure you to fight alongside him. And I will give you a map, directing your route away from Richard's battles. You will pass through Normandy and Anjou, on your way to my castle at Angouleme. Robin has stayed with me there before," she told Marian, "but never with you."
"It sounds delightful," Marian said. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
Robin was already busy greeting his servants and learning all that needed done in his village, so he did not notice Isabella's tiny smirk.
"Interesting," Isabella was thinking. "That route sends you directly in the path of my brother, hiding out in our mother's God forsaken village. Good luck avoiding Guy, Robin Hood."