Marian stared at him, aware that her mouth was open. 'You cannot.'

'Why not? Others my age are going! Why should I not go too? I have skills to offer the King that are far in advance of theirs'

'You are needed here,' Marian said, 'Your father-'

'My father has come to hate me.' Robin said, turning away from her again and staring at the fire. 'I do believe I am making him sicker.'

His tone was so despondent, so very unRobinlike that Marian rose and moved to his side, placing a hand on his arm. She almost flinched when she felt the tension there. 'He does not hate you.'

Robin snorted derisively.

'Robin, you cannot desert Locksley, you cannot desert your father!'

'I am not deserting anyone! I am doing what is right. You would keep me here to stifle until there is nothing left of me!'

'I would-' Marian began, then lowered her voice when she realised she was shouting. 'I would keep you here to take care of your people!'

'I am going to reclaim the Holy Land for my people!' Robin hissed back at her.

'Your people are farmers and smiths. They do not even know where the Holy Land is. But they know when their Lord deserts them!'

'I am not the Lord of Locksley.' The words were spoken quietly, carefully even, as though he were trying to contain himself.

'You are the Lord in all but name. It is you your people look to.'

'I am going.' Robin said, his eyes hard as they held her gaze.

'Your mind is made up. What would you have me say, Robin?'

'I would have your understanding and your blessing. Marian, you know me better than anyone, you know I am right.'

Marian glared up at him. 'I know no such thing. I cannot condone this.'

'You will not!'

Marian turned away from him, her skirts whirling about her ankles. 'No, I will not.'

Robin reached for her, placing a hand on her arm to turn her. 'Marian.'

'Get out, Robin.'

'Marian, I-'

'Don't, Robin. Don't you dare complete that sentence!' She jerked her head up to glare at him, but met Robin coming the other way. She stiffened slightly as his mouth touched hers, but then kissed him back. One hand slid up his chest into his hair, her nails digging into his skin.

She pushed him back, feeling his head hit one of the bedposts. Robin moaned, but didn't stop kissing her. She could feel Robin's long fingers digging into her waist, his other hand was lodged in her hair. As his tongue slid between her lips, Marian tightened her grip on him, feeling her nails scrape over his skin.

When they finally parted, Marian looked up at Robin. She spoke softly. 'I cannot love a man who would cast aside his people for his own ambition. Neither can I marry that man.'

'I know.' Robin looked much older than his eighteen years.

'You will not change your mind?' He shook his head. 'Then leave.'

Robin moved past her towards the window. Marian turned her back, unable to watch him leave.

'I will come back, you know.'

Unseen by Robin, Marian raised her hand to her mouth in a bit to stop herself speaking. She was afraid that if she spoke, she would cry – or scream – and she couldn't allow him to see that.

After several moments, she heard Robin leave. She stood stock-still. It was something she had learned when she was very young, when her mother died. If she stood still enough, if she let the turmoil flood through her, she could control it. Could push it deep down inside where it could not hurt her.

But really, this was too much. This was Robin and he was leaving her. She gasped; the sound muffled by her hand, and fell to her knees by the fire. She stared at the flames, watching them dance and lick at the logs. She found herself focusing on the fire. With the days getting warmer, the servants wondered at Lady Marian, still requesting a fire in her room at night.

The truth was that Marian slept with her window open more often than not, Robin had gotten into the habit of calling upon her at night, dragging her out through the window and onto the back of his horse. They rarely spoke on those excursions, and as warm as she was in the time they spent together, Marian was chilled when he returned her to Knighton.

And now he was leaving her for blood and glory in the Holy Land.

Marian sobbed.

-*-

The next morning, Marian's maid found her mistress curled up asleep by the ashes of last night's fire. The woman gently woke the girl and pulled her to her feet.

'Thank you, Mary.'

'You're welcome, my Lady.' The woman moved to Marian's wardrobe and began pulling out clothes. 'Your father has requested that you come to Nottingham, my Lady.'

'I will go when I have dressed.'

'Much from Locksley is downstairs. Master Robin's manservant.'

-*-

When she arrived downstairs, she found Much standing by the front door, looking uncomfortable.

'If you have a message from Robin I cannot pretend I am interested in hearing it,' said Marian, brushing past him on her way to the stables.

Much followed her. 'Robin did not send me. He does not know I am here. In fact he told me I was forbidden to come here.'

Marian's hands stilled in their work readying her horse.

'I know,' Much said, seeing this. 'Normally I would not do anything against Robin's will, but… Marian, he loves you. Surely…'

'Surely, what, Much? He is leaving, chasing glory above all else. I cannot accept that.'

'He wants to prove himself to his father, he thinks this is the way to do it.'

Marian snorted derisively. 'And what do you think?'

'I am just his servant, it is not for me to question him.'

Marian turned to look at Much. She was surprised, both at him and herself. At Herself for forgetting, and at Much for insisting on the distinction. 'You know Robin does not think of you thus.'

'And you know that is not the point. My Lady.'

'You're following him in this folly, aren't you?' Marian demanded.

'It is my duty.'

'Robin should not force you to go to war because you are his servant. It is not like him.'

'He is not. It is my choice.'

'You don't sound sure.'

'This is beside the point!' Much said urgently. 'He is worse since last night than ever before. He must go - he is resolved to go – but he loves you.'

'I cannot force him to stay, Much. I am not sure I want to, now he has turned out to be just another bloodthirsty thug.'

'He is not-' Much burst out indignantly.

'Then why is he going?' Marian interrupted. 'If he is not like that, if he loves me, why must he go?' She spun to look at the horse.

Much stepped forward and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. 'He must go because he is Robin, and he has made up his mind.'

'Then why are you here?' Marian asked.

Much stepped back as she turned to face him. 'We leave the day after tomorrow at dawn. Robin has been in the forest since early this morning.'

Marian nodded and led the horse out of the stables. She pulled herself into the saddle. 'Goodbye, Much. I hope I see you again.'

'Goodbye, my Lady.'

Marian pushed the horse to a gallop, riding for the forest. I am just riding to Nottingham, she told herself, If I see Robin then it is fate. If I do not… well, then that is also fate.

She rode quickly towards Nottingham, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead. She was aware, however, that her mind was finely tuned to the forest around her, seeking Robin out against her will.

Her attention alerted her to his presence, picking him out among the trees. She pulled her horse up, wheeling around to face him. She watched as he moved easily through the undergrowth towards her.

He was wearing a white shirt, covered by a green tunic, looking more like the boy she knew than the man he was becoming. His bow was held loosely in one hand. Marian felt strange, watching him come towards her like that; as if she was seeing something from a dream. He stalked, rather than walked, she realised, and he did not smile.

'On your way to Nottingham?' he asked as he reached her.

'My father summoned me.'

Robin nodded. 'They are throwing a feast in honour of those going to the Holy Land. There are five others going.'

Marian nodded. She had heard. 'I will see you there.'

'I… for god's sake, Marian, come down from your horse.'

She slid down from her horse, noting that Robin stepped back, the fingers of his free hand flexing as though he were having trouble controlling himself.

'You were saying?' Marian snapped, when Robin's eyes lingered on her and it became apparent she would have to jolt his brain out of whatever daydream it was inhabiting

'I do not think I will be attending.'

'You would steal away like a thief in the night?'

'No!'

'Then you should attend the feast.'

'And will you speak to me, if I do?'

Marian looked at him, cocking her head on one side. 'Does it matter?'

'Yes.' Marian ran his hand over his face and through his hair. It was shorter, Marian realised, obviously it had been cut in preparation. 'It matters what you think of me, Marian.'

She wanted to press him, to demand to know how he dared to ask her to forgive him, to speak to him, when he would not bend in his resolve. But she did not. She pulled herself back up into the saddle and turned her horse towards Nottingham. 'If you do not come,' she said over her shoulder, 'you will not find out.'

-*-

'Which dress, Lady Marian?'

'The red one, I think.' Marian sat in front of the mirror in her dressing room at Nottingham castle.

'Would you like me to help you dress, my Lady?'

Marian shook her head. 'You may go and get ready too.'

The girl nodded and left the room. Marian rose and pulled her dress on, lacing the front closed. Her eyes fell on her dressing table, where Robin's betrothal ring lay.

A knock on the door startled her. 'Come in.'

Her father stepped into the room, wearing his finest clothes. 'You look lovely, Marian.'

'Thank you, father.'

He moved further into the room, towards her dressing table. Picking up the ring, he turned his eyes to her. 'Is there something you would like to tell me before we go downstairs?'

Marian raised an eyebrow inquisitively. 'Concerning what?'

'Concerning this,' Edward said, holding out his hand, the ring resting comfortably in the centre of his palm.

Marian took the ring and looked at it, before concealing it in a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt. 'Somehow I think there is nothing I could tell you that you do not already know.'

'You could have married before he left.'

'No,' Marian said, 'I could not have gone through with it knowing he would leave me.'

'He is not leaving you, my dear.'

'How can you take his side in this?' Marian demanded.

'I am not. I like Robin. I believe he will come back.'

'If he survives.'

'Even if he does not, it would be better for you in the long run if you were to-'

'Father!'

'Think on it, Marian. I am sure Robin has.' Edward turned and headed out of the room, pausing in the doorway. 'He is here, by the way.'

-*-

Throughout the feast, Marian felt Robin's eyes on her. She ate little, noting that he ate nothing, but drank a good deal. His sat next to his father and Marian watched as Lord Locksley tried to make conversation with his son, only to be rebuffed again and again.

When the food was cleared away and the hall given over to dancing and entertainment, Lord Locksley walked over to her father. Marian noted how the nobleman walked upright, the pain he was in only showing in his eyes.

After greeting the other man, Edward motioned for him to sit beside him. Marian's eyes sought out Robin. He was standing on the other side of the hall, leaning against the wall and watching the crowd. Catching her looking at him, he stood and nodded at her, calling her over. Then he disappeared out of the hall.

Marian followed, leaving her father and Robin's in deep conversation. She found him in the corridor outside, leaning against one of the window ledges. 'Robin,' she greeted.

'Marian, you look… striking.' He slurred his words slightly, making Marian realise he was the worse for the drink he had consumed.

'You're drunk,' she said flatly, turning to walk back into the hall.

Robin's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, 'Don't leave me.'

Marian glared up at him. 'I think you'll find it is you who is leaving me.'

'Marian, don't. Please. I am doing what I feel I must. I do not wish to argue about it anymore.'

She looked up at him, wishing she could make him see sense. Wishing that her pride would allow her to beg him to stay, to tell him that without him here, her future seemed empty. The problem was that he looked too tired to argue, she decided. It was as though everything that made him Robin was being poured into his resolve to go and he had nothing left for her.

She sighed and leaned on the ledge beside him. 'What then, Robin? What is it you would have me say?'

'I would have your understanding, Marian.'

'I cannot give it to you.' Marian whispered.

Robin pushed away from the window ledge and began to pace, his movements somehow more catlike than ever now he was drunk. 'There are others going. Their wives are supporting them!'

Marian stared at him, waiting for him to realise what he had said. When he did not, she said, 'I am not your wife, Robin.'

He stopped short and turned to look at her, staring at her for several long moments before saying, 'You could be.'

'Hardly the offer of a lifetime,' Marian remarked dryly.

'I am serious, Marian, we could be married before I go.'

'My father said something similar.'

'It is a good plan!'

'It is no plan at all. Not even half a plan!'

'Marian, do not be so difficult!'

'I am not being difficult! I am being myself. I cannot marry you like this.'

'And I cannot stay.'

Marian stood up straight and held out her hand to Robin. 'This belongs to you, I think.' The ring sparkled in her palm.

'Marian…'

'If you expect me to wait while you gallivant off to the other side of the world in search of glory you are insane, Robin. I am not going to wait here, wearing your ring, on the off chance that the man who deserted both me and his people will return.' She reached for his hand and forced it open, pressing the ring into it.

Then she spun on her heel and headed back into the party, pausing just before she reached the door to the Great Hall. She turned and looked at him, standing in the light from the window, regarding the ring in his hand with a blank expression on his face. 'I am sorry, Robin.'

He didn't look up. 'Me too.'

-*-