Lady Marian stepped silently down the stairs of Knighton Hall, willing herself not to disturb her father, asleep by the fire. By her reckoning, there were still at least two hours of daylight left. She intended to make the most of them.

In the months since his return, Robin had proved himself different. He spent more time than ever practicing weaponry, no longer always seeking to include Much.

His distance from his father was so pronounced it began to be remarked upon. With his father so sick, Robin often took his place at the Council of Nobles. He did not speak. Not, Marian knew, because he had nothing to say. On his good days, Robin loved his people. Loved them fiercely and with a compassion Marian suspected came of his closeness with Much.

The other nobles thought Robin arrogant when he did not appear in the same room as his father. Marian alone knew that when Robin did find himself in a room with Lord Locksley, he kept his head bowed, his eyes averted from his father's face.

Each time she saw it, her heart went out to both Robin and his father. As Lord Locksley became sicker, and Robin's avoidance of him showed no sign of abating, the Lord became angrier with his son.

Much reported to Marian that Robin spent hours at a time apparently locked away in his room. Marian, however, knew differently. Robin spent those hours in the forest, always accompanied by only his bow and his sword.

He did not know that Marian watched him. Worried about him. Weighed down in a way she could not describe by his ring on her finger. A betrothal ring, but not a wedding ring. That was one part of the plan yet to be fulfilled.

She loved Robin. It was simple fact. Robin, however, seemed to be set on driving himself mad. It was as though Nottinghamshire, once his world, had grown suddenly too small. Locksley could not stretch to contain the man who would soon be its lord.

Today would be different, Marian resolved, mounting her horse, the unfamiliar weight of the sword she carried making her movements unsteady.

*

She found Robin soon enough. She always did. It was another aspect of their relationship upon which Marian preferred not to dwell, sensing that it somehow weakened her.

She tethered the horse and watched Robin for a few minutes. He was working with his longbow today, his sword sheathed at his waist.

As she had years before, when first she met Robin, Marian found herself reluctantly impressed by his prowess. Robin was far more skilled with the bow than the sword, and he was no mean sword-fighter.

Well, neither am I.

'Robin,' she said softly, trying to attract his attention without placing herself in his sights.

He turned, lowing the bow only marginally. 'Marian.'

'Where were you today? You were supposed to call on me.'

'Forgive me, I was distracted.' Robin turned from her and began to fire arrows once more, plucking them from the quiver and fitting them to the string in one fluid movement.

Marian knew well what had distracted Robin. According to her father, Lord Locksley was finally so ill he had taken to his bed. Marian stood and pulled her sword from its sheath.

Robin turned at the sound, dark amusement dancing in his eyes. 'What are you doing, Marian?'

He possessed of an odd humour tonight, Marian thought. She stepped closer to Robin, watching him note her stance. It was not the one of an untrained girl.

'My father, though encouraging to begin with, would prefer it if I did not continue to practice now I am to be married.' She paused, expecting Robin to give her a pretty compliment, and try to dissuade her. He did not; he merely stood there, watching her intently. 'I thought perhaps you could use someone to teach, seeing as you have learned so much…'

If she had thought flattering him would work, she was mistaken. 'Who are you and what have you done with my Marian?' Robin demanded, the ghost of a smile on his face.

Inwardly, Marian smiled: he was still in there somewhere, then. 'Fine. But spar with me, Robin. I cannot take another day of embroidery waiting for you to be too distracted to call upon me.'

'It is improper.'

'Nonsense. We are to be married. It is entirely proper that you call on me.'

'Marian!' He exclaimed, exasperated.

'Robin?' She challenged.

Robin turned from her, and for a moment she thought he would refuse. However, he leaned his bow reverentially against a tree, and turned back to face her, drawing his sword.

An odd humour indeed.

Without further discussion, they began to circle one another. She could almost feel the intensity of Robin's gaze on her, measuring her up. She did the same. Robin's sword was heavier, but then, so was he. She also had the advantage that he could not know how skilled she was, whereas she had the measure of him.

That last was not entirely comforting, Marian mused as they stepped forwards, their swords meeting with a satisfyingly loud clang. Robin attacked and Marian parried, taking advantage of his surprise to lunge for him. Robin spun away, and they began to circle one another again.

They continued in this way for what seemed like an age. Irritated at Robin's circumspection, Marian forced him back until he was forced to turn or trip over a tree root, then she caught him a wallop across the back of his legs with the flat of her sword.

'Marian!'

'What?' she asked, all innocence.

Robin grinned at her expression, then began to fight in earnest, slowly but inexorably forcing her back. When the fabric of her dress touched the bark of one of the trees behind her, Marian held up her sword warningly.

'Do not come any closer, Robin!'

'Or what?'

'I'll scream.'

'Scream? The fearless fighter Lady Marian? Surely not.'

'Perhaps not.' He had lowered his sword. Marian smiled. 'Very well, you leave me no choice,' Marian said. She shifted her sword in her hand and used it to flick his out of his grip, making it land several yards away. The she brought her sword back up to point at Robin's chest.

She looked to where Robin's sword had fallen with a satisfied expression, then turned to Robin. 'It appears you are unarmed, Robin of Locksley.'

'I love you.'

In the silence that followed, Marian and Robin stared at one another. That which was known and silently acknowledged now spoken for the whole forest to hear.

She looked at him, seeing that for the first time in months he appeared to be entirely here, as though suddenly brought into focus. 'Robin, I-'

'Master!'

Robin's eyes fell closed as Much's voice sounded through the trees. Marian looked down at the sword in her hands, still aimed at Robin's heart. She lowered the sword and looked back up at Robin's face.

His eyes were still closed as he spoke, 'What is it, Much?'

'Master… your father…' Much panted.

Robin's eyes opened, and to Marian he seemed to be unfocused once again. Lost. He wants to get away from this, she realised. She wanted to reach out to him, but Robin had already turned away.

He bent to collect his sword, then picked up his bow. Turning to Much, he said, 'Escort Lady Marian to Knighton, then come directly home.' Then, without a look over his shoulder, Robin stalked off in the direction of Locksley, leaving Marian and Much alone in the forest.

*

Marian stood in her room in Knighton Hall, her sword held out in front of her, daring the bedpost to make a move. She was angry. Her anger manifested itself in lightning-fast attacks on an invisible opponent.

She was angrier with herself, more than anything. She should have insisted that she accompany Robin home. It would be her home after all, in time. She had seen in the forest, the moment he turned away from her, that the old Robin had once again been replaced by the new. If she had gone with him she could have –

'Could have what?' Marian asked aloud, her mind finding no completion of that thought.

There was a tapping sound at her window, she realised. Knowing full well whom it was tapping at her window, Marian laid down the sword then opened the shutters.

Robin climbed in and stood in her room, looking around him in a dazed fashion.

'It is more polite to use the door,' Marian said to break the silence when he did not speak.

'It is the middle of the night,' said Robin, moving over to her fireplace and standing with his back to her, watching the flames.

'I am awake.'

'But your father is not.'

Marian sat on the bed, watching him for a few moments. 'Your father?'

'He is alive. Sick, but alive.'

'That is good to hear. I was worried.'

'I knew you would be.' Robin brought both hands to his face and scrubbed them over it.

'You are tired, you should go home and rest, Robin.'

'I cannot stay.'

His words were quietly spoken, so quietly Marian wished she could pretend she didn't hear them. She could at least pretend she did not know their meaning. 'That is what I told you. You should go home.'

'No,' Robin said, still not looking at her. 'I cannot stay here, in Locksley.'

'You are not in Locksley.'

'You are wilfully misunderstanding me!' Robin hissed, turning to face her.

'Yes I am,' Marian returned, 'because you are tired and do not mean what you say.'

'Yes,' Robin said, 'I am tired, but that does not mean I do not mean it. I must leave.'

'Do not be ridiculous!' Marian scoffed. 'Where will you go?' But she knew the answer. Had known for some months, though she tried to deny it. After all, at least five young men known to Robin had taken up the cross now. And Robin was the best of them; it had only been a matter of time.

But Robin loved his land, loved his people, loved her. Surely, he would not abandon them? She needed to hear him say it.

Robin looked at her, and for a moment she saw something helpless in his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by the light of ambition. By the time he spoke, Marian already found herself hating the sound of his voice.

'I will go with the King, to the Holy Land.'

*