Edward loves the taste of victory.
...
Sir Edward, weary but sitting at his table, looked up from his supper.
"Sir Guy, to what do I owe your visit?"
"A matter of some urgency." Guy ordered the guard out of the room and closed the door. "I will speak plainly, and I trust you will do the same."
...
Edward stirred his porridge, swirling the cream into a pool and letting it puddle onto the honey. He glanced up as Gisborne paced and waited.
Gisborne stripped off his gloves and dropped them on a table. "You know Harold of Winchester?"
Edward's vision blurred as he smiled. "Oh yes. A dear old friend. Is he coming to Nottingham?"
"No. He's just left, and won't come again," Gisborne said flatly.
Edward glanced up. Gisborne did not elaborate, his silence providing all the clarity Edward needed, so he stirred his bowl of porridge, saving a dollop of honey on the side.
Gisborne stopped pacing. "What interests might he have had with Sussex?"
The porridge was properly sweet. Edward hated unsweetened mush. "His family had a piece of it long ago. I always suspected he wanted to get it back."
Gisborne paused. "What interests might you have in Sussex, Sir Edward?"
Edward set down his spoon and tapped the heavy stonework edge of his bowl. "Our lands have always been ruled by kings but led by custom. When kings refuse to respect that custom, it causes unease and upheaval." Edward folded his hands under his chin. "The precise head that a crown rests upon is less important than maintaining regular customs and liberties. Would you not agree, Sir Guy of Gisborne?"
"I said I would hear you speak plainly, sir."
"Or what?" Edward scoffed, eyeing Gisborne's clenched fist. "You'll have me killed? Take a chair, lad, I shan't be long."
Gisborne glanced at the fire, then looked at the floor.
Edward sighed. "I am old, Guy, and I am tired. I am tired of capricious favor, and I am tired of waiting. I'm too old to fight, but I'm old enough to know how to win." He picked up his spoon. "Even if I won't live to see victory."
Guy sat across the table and fixed his gaze on Edward. "Who should?"
"Marian," Edward answered without hesitation. Yes, the porridge was quite fine today. "My daughter should know what it is to live in peace. And Knighton. Locksley. London. Sussex. All of England should prosper."
As Edward took another hearty spoonful, Guy rubbed his brow as though pained. "Marian is not assured of the freedom to enjoy your... victory."
"Why not?"
Guy clenched his jaw. "She has... prior commitments."
Edward slurped. "Ah, yes. Robin."
"Has he demanded her?"
He really must give the maid an extra coin. She was generous with the cream today. "Yes."
Guy slammed his fist on the table. The bowl of porridge bounced.
Edward snorted. "You said you would hear me speak plainly." He pushed his well of honey back to safety. "Robin of Locksley would wed Marian when Richard returned to England."
"And Marian wishes for this?"
"Marian knows her own mind, and she is here. Not in the forest."
"She prefers the comforts of the castle."
"She prefers reality." The last bite, pure cream and honey. Delicious. "Marian is no fool, and neither am I."