William's vitamin intake aside, things were going to get worse before they got better.

For him, anyway, what with the rising crime rate and whispers of revolution bubbling up from the great unwashed masses. For me? Well. It wasn't completely unlike hearing a particularly nasty joke and not knowing whether to laugh or not - granted, people were fearing to walk the streets without being set upon by a demon who's hair was the colour of hellfire and eyes were as wild as the forest itself...but when the demon in question was the ginger loser who used to muck out the stables, it was a little hard to be swept up in the tide of moral outcry. Especially when I had a wedding to plan, and books to balance.

In those first weeks of Rob's reign of terror, we kept to our own private worlds: he was living his new life as a self-styled outlaw/hero, and I was charged with the exciting task of standing perfectly still for hours waiting for my dressmaker to finish taking in the hem of my wedding gown.

I'd lost all enthusiasm for what was fast becoming William-fest '94, and he'd oh-so-subtly suggested I wear something traditional that looked expensive (meaning a dress that reminded him of something his mother wore in the (eleven) seventies). In retrospect, it's pretty unusual for him to suggest that anything should be expensive - he might be the Rusty Trawler to my Holy Golightly, but he's generally tight enough to make Scrooge look like Santa. Anyway, as far as materialistic spendaholics go, I wasn't all that excited about my wedding ensemble.

I'd settled for a soft blue velvet with gold trim, elegant enough to recycle for every ball and feast until I got pregnant or let myself go. Not that I would, obviously. As soon as I had an unlimited allowance, Shropshire was going to stand in awe of my shopping habit. I'd be able to afford - and therefore buy - vintage wines from Italy, perfume from France, venison straight from the New Forest and silk from the Orient (granted, I didn't actually know where that was, other than it was furthur away than the Holy Land, and elephants and unicorns lived there... I wonder why I only got a C in GCSE geography?) And I could convince William that living tucked away in the land of dairy products would harm his career; we'd be back in London living like medieval rock stars within months. Everything would be fine.

I wonder if I ever really believed that?

Ironically, I'm fairly sure the worst-planned trap in history was my fault. It gets kind of confused, and I can't be entirely sure this next bit even happened. But if it did, this is how it went:

We were sitting in his study, sipping Irish cider and going over wedding plans when I suggested it. I mean, a harmless little fair, we were always having them - what could possibly go wrong? I mean, it's not like it was my idea to twist the whole thing to make it about catching Rob, that was William's perverse little twist to it. I just thought it would be fun - boost public morale, bring in trade, maybe even make some extra money myself, if I sent some of the serfs from the village to sell some of the fruit we had growing in the orchards that time of year...and I could wear the red satin dress I'd splurged on and not had a reason to wear yet. Perfect.

It wasn't even a particularly original idea - we had them every year when I was growing up, massive fairs with trade imported from York, Lincoln, London even. One year, just before the craziness of being shipped off to crusades and court and adulthood, Rob had won an archery contest, and didn't shut up about it for months, probobaly the only thing he's won in his whole life. It was one of the things I'd choked up that humiliating time I'd word-vomited everything I knew about Rob to William.

It's not like I could have predicted that William would turn the whole thing into some giant propaganda campaign for law and order, the highlight of which would be an attempt to assail Nottingham's most notorious outlaw.

I wouldn't even have told Rob, had I not bumped in to him. When I was strolling through the forest. Just after sunrise. Because he'd told me he'd be waiting at the oak. The last time we'd met. Accidently.

I wouldn't say we were having an affair, exactly. Mostly because I had nobody I could really tell, for one thing. If William hadn't been in La-La wedding land, he'd never have understood - "Hey Billy, you know that thief that's driving you crazy? Yeah actually, that's my stable-boy, yeah the one you outlawed, funny thing, actually, I'm a bit in love with him..." Aunt Agnes would have told me to stop being such a flibertigibbet and get on with planning my wedding. Ann would have found the whole thing hilarious, played along for a few weeks and let slip to half the city.

Besides, I wasn't doing anything immoral. If Rob and I were having sex, or even kissing, maybe then I'd have felt guilty enough to tell someone. Maybe if it meant anything other than friendship, maybe then. But Rob was only what he'd always been, my almost-big-brother, my stupid peasant friend. He was just a friend I had to keep secret, on account of the whole being a dangerous wanted criminal I had confusing feelings for thing.

I only mentioned it in passing. "There's going to be an archery contest. The prize is a golden arrow, William's idea. I thought it was a bit extravagent, but I suppose its his budget."

Cartoon dollar signs flashed in Rob's eyes (metaphorically, obviously) and from that moment on he was indiginent. Looking back, that might be why John The Lanky Freak Of Nature dislikes me so much. But it's not like I told Rob to go or anything, and how, exactly, was I going to stop him? People always blame the ditz, as if Robbie, being all heroic and fanmous was completely incapable of being an arrogant prat.

I realise I'm starting to sound like Wendy, so I'll just carry on with the story.

"You can't go." I explained the million reasons why, given the current socio-political climate, his presence may be just a tad inflammatory to the general feeling of public safety.

"I have to."

We left it at that. I knew, of course, that it was more than pride that made him want to go. That kind of money could buy a great deal. Food. Clothes.

A pardon.

Even then, I guess I already knew that nothing I could say would make him feel any better, and there was no point in trying.

"Will you be there?" It wasn't asked casually.

"Yes."

"Good."

The walk home was never fun. The first times, when the path leading back up towards the keep ws still showded in greyish morning light, my heart skipped at the slightest sound. It wasn't wild animals - or even outlaws - I was worried about so much as peasants from the village. Already they'd be waking up, wandering into the forest for wood to make fires. I hadn't even rehearsed an aliby in case I ran into someone. Suggesting I was out for an early morning stroll, alone and with the sun barely risen, would be too stupid to contemplate saying. But what else was there in the woods? Even if there minds didn't skip immediately to Rob - which of course they would - the alternatives wouldn't be much better. Witchcraft, perhaps. It was before the hysteria so I'd probobaly manage to avoid execution, but I'd live the rest of my life as a social lepar, with only Mabel De Belleme, whom everyone knew had a pact with the devil, for company. Or what else? Being in league with the outlaws, telling them when and where people would be travelling through the forest...well. Maybe they wouldn't be far wrong, but still. I didn't want people knowing about it.

Fortunately, there was no nosey peasants on my walk, and I managed to detour the village entirely, although it made the journey longer than I'd have liked.

It was pointless going through the kitchen door. Aunt Agnes, the cook, half the servants would be milling around down there. So I'd have to take my chances with the front. I suppose it was lucky we never really had the drawbridge up, because having to explain why I had waded through the mote would be difficult even for me to lie away, and would probobaly involve a long and detailed account into the terrible sleepwalking I had suffered for years...

Slipping in, my heart had practically stopped beating. What was I going to say if there was some maid scrubbing the stairs?

Fortunately, my staff were incompetants and fools, and the coast was well and truly clear. Until Ann appeared out of nowhere, brandishing a brown satin dress. "You're not in bed."

Nothing gets passed her.

"Yes I am. This is all a dream."

Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time it registered she was actually quite threatening, in the right circumstances. "Hillarious. Where have you been?"

It was then that I made up my mind: telling the truth would hurt people. Me, Rob, his little forest friends. By spinning a white lie, Ann would be none the wiser and no harm would be done. I just needed to think of something passably plausable. In the next second or two.

"The stables." It sounded quite convincing in my head, "Checking on the horses. I was going to go for a ride a little later...but given the amount of robberies going on in the forest, it's probobaly a bad idea, after all. Will you be a lovey and fetch some bread and jam? I'll eat in the solaire, I have some embroidery I need to finish."

Ann gave me an inconvinced look, but did what I told her. The joys of paying your friends. I went upstairs, sunk down on the chair closest to the window. Downstairs, servants were shuffling around, and outside birds were singing as the sun rose up from behind a scarlet-gold forest.

I tried to believe that it would be okay.