Returning to the castle, Robin could see that Marian was happy and content, but tired. She was at that early stage in her pregnancy when she needed more sleep than usual, and he suggested she nap before getting ready for the night's festivities.
"I would love a nap," she agreed. "How did you know?"
"I know you," he answered, his attitude reflecting how adorable she was to him.
Robin was pleased his family was enjoying their stay in Aquitaine, especially Marian. He wanted it to be perfect for her, a delayed honeymoon of sorts, since their honeymoon at Bonchurch had been cut short by Gisbourne's attack on her.
Even a nap could be made special in Aquitaine, Robin knew, and he hired a lute player to quietly strum his instrument just outside the room where Marian rested, knowing it would please her.
With Marian settled, Robin entered their children's nursery so he could spend more time with them. His little girls were delighted to see him, but their nurse needed calming.
"I tried, my lord," she told him, more upset than he had ever seen her, "but the purple will not come off their feet! What can be done? I don't care what their pedigree is, they will not find husbands if their feet remain purple!"
Robin hid his laughter, but answered, "I'd worry more about Gracie's wrestler arms than purple feet, hunting for a husband."
"Wrestler arms?" The nurse, fond of her charges but lacking a sense of humor, was outraged. Scooping Grace up from where she was playing, she covered the toddler's arms with kisses. "Her arms, my lord, are my pride and joy! Wrestler, indeed! A child her age should have round, meaty arms! She'll lose her baby fat soon enough."
"And the purple stain as well," Robin told her, grinning at his little girl's desperate wriggling to be put down. "Don't worry about scrubbing it off. It'll fade in time, I think."
"All the same, my lord," the nurse added, "I don't want any more such nonsense as your lordship allowed this afternoon, if I may be so bold as to say it."
"Granted," Robin agreed, amused as he often was by Nurse, though respecting her capabilities.
He enjoyed playing with Ellen and Grace as much as they enjoyed him, making sure to keep the play calm and quiet in consideration of what a hard day Nurse had endured.
A knock on the nursery door, followed by the admittance of a servant carrying a large bouquet of flowers, ended their games.
"What is this?" Robin kindly asked the man.
"For you, my Lord Huntington," the man replied, "from Lady Marguerite."
Robin sucked in his breath and led the servant outside the nursery, thankful that Nurse neither spoke nor understood French.
Marguerite was the name of the woman he'd had a brief tryst with years before, when he'd visited Queen Eleanor here in Aquitaine on his way home from war. He had not noticed her on this visit, but she had clearly noticed him.
He cast his mind back to their encounter, trying to remember. On that time before, Marguerite had spotted him at a banquet and he had admired her, though he had no wish to become entangled. Still recovering from the fever he had taken from his war wound, he had left the banquet and gone to the castle's famous library, wanting to be alone. Marguerite had followed him there and offered herself to him, and he had tried to politely decline. He could still hear her asking him, "Don't you like me?" Giving in then and wanting to forget Marian whom he assumed was married, he had allowed Marguerite to lead him to her bedchamber. Later that night, he remembered, she had kicked him out of her bed when she had been awakened by him thrashing about, caught in one of his war plagued nightmares.
And now, after all these years, she had sent him flowers.
"Thank her for me," Robin told the servant, "but tell her I am happily married."
"My lord, it is not so easy," the servant explained. "In Queen Eleanor's Court of Love, flowers have meaning."
"I know their meaning," Robin said, partly amused, "but my answer remains the same."
"I do not think your lordship fully understands. Each flower has a definite meaning. Allow me to explain this bouquet. The yellow geranium means 'an unexpected meeting.' The Fleur de Lis indicates..." He cleared his throat, embarrassed. "It means, my lord, 'I burn.' The apple blossom stands for 'temptation,' while this full blown rose with two buds means 'secrecy.' The ramunculus means, 'You are rich in attractions,' and the pimpernel asks you for an assignation. The passion flower is, I believe, self explanatory."
Robin was surprised by each flower having a definite meaning, but it didn't change what he'd already guessed. "Like I said," he explained, "I understand what she's saying. My answer to her remains the same."
"But, your lordship, you must reply back to her in flowers! It is the Aquitainian way!"
Robin chuckled. "I am not about to send flowers to a woman who isn't my wife." Then, thinking of Marian, he asked, "Does every flower really have a separate meaning?"
"Of course! Sending and receiving flowers is one of the languages of love."
"Can you make me a bouquet?" Robin asked, knowing how much Marian loved flowers. He paid the man, then asked, "What flowers indicate love?"
"What kind of love, my lord?"
"The true, lasting kind, between a man and a woman."
"Red roses and blue forget-me-nots."
"I want plenty of those. Which is the passion flower in this bouquet?"
The servant pointed to it, and Robin pulled it out and handed it to him. "Add this to the others, and that 'rich in attractions,' one, too. Is there something to indicate bravery?"
"Oak leaves, my lord."
"Add some oak leaves then. What about marriage?"
"Marriage, my lord?" The servant was shocked, thinking the bouquet was to go to Marguerite. "That would be ivy."
"She'll like that, hanging down from the roses and the others. Three more kinds, I think. Beauty, esteem, and...enchantment."
"Daisies stand for beauty. Esteem coupled with love is represented by strawberry blossoms, and holly means enchantment."
"Good. How do you remember all that?"
"Every servant must recall the flowers' meanings. We are expected to translate the bouquets, when our masters and mistresses forget."
Robin was glad to hear it. Marian had been assigned a lady's maid to help her during their stay here. She would certainly be pleased when she woke up from her nap to discover the flowers, and would especially be pleased when the maid told her their meanings.
But Robin didn't realize he had not made himself clear. According to custom, Robin needed to send an answer to Marguerite in flowers, and Marguerite would certainly be surprised when she received a declaration of true love and a proposal of marriage from Lord Locksley!
...
(Note: The flower meanings come from their actual meanings assigned to them, and can be found in any Language of flowers dictionary. This practice began in ancient Egypt and was used by the Romans and even in Medieval Europe, but really took hold during Victorian times before virtually disappearing. I don't know how extensively it was used in Queen Eleanor's Court of Love, but I would think if anybody used it, she would have!)