The news of King Henry's death and Richard's ascension to the throne quieted the rumors concerning Robin and Marian. The old king was said to have died from a broken heart brought on by his youngest and favorite child, Prince John, betraying him.

With the nation observing a period of mourning, Robin obediently cancelled his party to honor Aunt Mary. He did, however, invite her to visit his village, along with her niece. And so, that very afternoon, Marian rode with her aunt inside a coach on the road to Locksley.

Marian was no longer angry at Robin, only disappointed. Unlike her father, she had not heard the entire story of his conversation with Martin and Ralph, and still believed Robin had sullied her name by boasting about their upcoming wedding night, speaking of her as if she were not a lady. Men! she thought, rolling her eyes.

"I wonder," her aunt was saying as they were being jostled along, "how much longer my brother will be sheriff?"

Pulled from her thoughts, Marian could only ask, "Excuse me?"

"It was King Henry who appointed him," her aunt explained. "The new king probably has men of his own he wants to place in positions of power."

"But surely...!"

Marian was upset. Her father...no longer sheriff? It seemed impossible to comprehend! He had been Sheriff of Nottingham almost as long as Marian could remember, serving the shire well and justly. He couldn't simply be removed just to make way for the new king's favorite, could he?

"Robin is close to the king," Marian explained. "When he's in London attending the coronation, he will speak for my father."

"Correction," Aunt Mary snapped. "Was close. How do you think the new king feels, knowing Robin refused to fight for him? Especially after Richard expressly sent that foul Lord Sheridan to us to fetch Robin."

"The new king isn't like that! Robin's always telling me how noble he is, how just and brave and true!"

"Add charming and handsome to the list, and you describe young Locksley himself. I'm afraid Robin has attached the character traits he strives for himself onto his hero, our new king. It's not uncommon for someone as idealistic as your young man to seek his ideals in others. That's why he thinks so highly of you, when you don't deserve it."

Marian was stung. Why did her aunt dislike her so much? She knew she hadn't been as present at her sewing circles as she should have been, but that was hardly a cause to receive such an insult.

She knew that Robin got along splendidly with her aunt. He even seemed to enjoy her bitterness, as if he could see humor hidden beneath it. Aunt Mary was smitten with him. Surely she couldn't be jealous that Marian was to be his wife!

Arriving at last in Locksley, the coach rumbled to a stop. Robin, with Much close behind, ran eagerly to meet it.

Offering his hand, he helped Aunt Mary from the coach and welcomed her to his village. As Marian stepped from the coach, she both saw and felt Robin scrutinizing her keenly. All the anxiety of the day seemed to hit her at once...the ugly rumors, the news of the king's death, her fears for her father's position, and her aunt's nastiness toward her...all these things made her want to put her head on Robin's chest and cry. But she reminded herself she was still the daughter of the sheriff. She held onto her dignity and hid her feelings.

Robin saw through her, of course. He did not know the reasons, but he knew that Marian was more than troubled. His voice was gentle, kind, and soothing. "Would you like to see Lochinvar?" he asked, knowing the foal was just the thing to help Marian feel happier.

"What is Lochinvar, may I ask?" Aunt Mary demanded brusquely.

Robin grinned down at her. "You'll see," he answered, causing the old lady to snort. He offered an arm to each of the women and led them just outside Locksley to a woven willow fenced pasture where his horses were grazing.

Marian caught her breath and smiled. "He's beautiful!" she cried, watching the few-days-old solid black foal gallop playfully around his mother Sapphire.

Aunt Mary looked at Robin's fleet of horses, the finest she had ever seen. "Now I understand why my niece wants to marry you! It's not your lands or your titles or your pretty face, my lord Earl. It's your horses!"

Robin chuckled. "You found me out! Only the finest pedigree, to woo and win your niece."

"Take me to your house. I want to question your steward, and examine the linens. You know, Locksley, with your wealth and position, you ought to build yourself a castle!"

Robin chuckled again. Leaning in to Marian, he quietly told her, "We'll come back and see more of Lochinvar, after your aunt's tour. I promise."

"Lover's secrets?" Aunt Mary scolded. "At least do me the courtesy to wait, until I doze off in your most comfortable chair."

"You may have a bed, madam, if you want to nap," Robin said gallantly.

Aunt Mary slapped his arm. "Naughty boy! Watch this one, niece. He's too charming for your own good. But a bed wouldn't be amiss. That carriage ride made me sleepy, that and the sunshine and the drone of the bees. I'd like to sample some of your honey, Locksley, from your hives."

Marian raised her eyebrows and her mouth formed an "O." Much sometimes teased his master about gathering "honey" when Robin ordered him to stay behind while he took Marian for a walk. Aunt Mary couldn't know the implication, surely! Marian saw that Robin understood her surprise, and he grinned and threw her a wink.

"You shall have honey, and anything else you desire," he said. "This may not be a party, but you are still my guest of honor. Much? Run ahead and make sure Mary serves honey with the refreshments."

Aunt Mary seemed in her element, leaning on Robin's arm as he led her through his village toward his manor house. He introduced her as Marian's aunt to his people as he met them, who seemed contented, respectful, and hard working. She couldn't be more pleased for her niece, not even if Marian were to marry the new king himself.

She appeared scornful when examining his store of household linens, but was actually pleased with everything she saw. His deceased mother, apparently, had been an outstanding needlewoman, and the tapestries and hangings she had made were exquisite.

After partaking of refreshments, Aunt Mary decided she would like to nap. Robin almost carried her up the stairs, so hard did she lean on his arm. Marian walked beside them down the hallway, all the way to the last room, so that Aunt Mary, very picky, could select the bed she chose to nap upon.

"This was my boyhood room," Robin said, opening the door. "I doubt you want to sleep here. The bed's too narrow, but I wanted to show you the wall hanging."

Marian remembered playing with Robin when they were children in this room. Mostly they had jumped up and down on the bed, pretending they were birds flying. The tapestry on the wall suggested this, being a tree filled with birds. At the tree's very top were a robin and a wren.

"My mother made this for me," Robin said, almost reverently. "That's Marian and me, at the top. My mother always called me 'Robin' from the day I was born, and I thought Marian's name was-"

"You were christened 'Robert,' of course," Aunt Mary interrupted, admiring the design and the stitching.

"I was. Marian was very young when we met, and I thought she said her name was 'Mary Wren.' That's why my mother designed the robin and wren together, on this hanging."

Aunt Mary watched the two young people gaze at one another. Their feelings were clear...lovely and poetical. She knew by the way Robin treated her niece, he felt blissful at the obligation of caring for Marian as his future bride. She felt like sighing, but yawned instead.

"Show me a wider bed. You have guest rooms, have you not?"

"I have."

Very soon, Aunt Mary was comfortably situated in a guest room. "Ring the bell if you need anything," Robin said kindly, before pulling the door closed.

"Shall we head back to the pasture?" he asked Marian, delighted to spend an hour with her.

"Yes," she agreed, hoping to unburden her heart to her beloved Robin.