Marian had no idea how late it was, not having noticed when daylight faded from her bedchamber. The last thing she wanted to do was pull herself away from her husband's embrace and leave their warm bed, but she knew they mustn't linger any longer, no matter how sweet it was to lie in Robin's arms.
"We should get up," she mentioned, leaning up on one elbow.
"We should," Robin agreed, smiling. "But where would be the fun in that?"
Marian smiled, throwing herself back into his arms. She never tired of hearing him say that. "Haven't we had enough fun for today?" she asked, kissing his throat. She loved the feel of his rough beard stubble, damp and fresh-smelling from his bath. "Besides," she added, "Mary cooked you supper, and now it's bound to be cold."
"All the more reason to stay here, where it's toasty warm."
"Burning hot," Marian corrected. She caught her breath when Robin flipped her onto her back and rolled on top of her.
The look he gave her held no more teasing, but only heartfelt love. Their lips met in a slow, deep, lingering kiss.
"I used to picture your face every night before I'd fall asleep...in Acre," he confessed.
Marian held her breath. Robin never spoke of his time at war. It still gave him nightmares...nightmares he'd awaken from sweaty and shaken. It was like pulling teeth to get him to talk about them, yet here he was now, seemingly wanting to talk about his time as a Knight Templar fighting alongside King Richard. At last.
She tried to picture him wearing the white Templar tunic emblazoned with a red cross, as she'd seen Carter and the other knights wearing when she had been in Acre. The cross, she knew, represented Christ's cross, red with His blood, while the white marked the Knight as being pure, washed free from sin. Marian waited for Robin to tell her something...anything about his time as Captain of the King's Private Guard.
He remained silent, and his eyes had a hurt, faraway look in them. His face was only inches from hers and they lay together, heart-to-heart, yet he seemed nearly as distant to her as Acre was to Locksley.
Marian hated the distance, refusing to allow it. They'd been apart too many years already...she wouldn't accept anything driving a wedge between them now that they were finally man and wife.
"Tell me, if you want to," she murmured, drawing him back to her again.
After several moments that seemed much longer to Marian, Robin shook his head.
How could he tell her the horrors he'd witnessed...the horrors he'd been part of? Killing man after man after man in battle until the sand grew slippery with their blood and he couldn't see from the sweat pouring off him...sweat and the splattered blood of his victims. His sword-arm burned from overuse, yet the enemy still kept coming, hacking down his fellow soldiers, slicing them to bits, fighting for their god and country just as he was fighting for his.
"You were a hero," Marian reminded him, soothingly, as if she'd read his thoughts.
"Thank God there's peace, at least for now," Robin said.
"There won't be another war, surely."
"Not if I can help it."
"What do you mean?"
Slowly, Robin puffed the air out of his cheeks. "The truce Richard agreed to with Saladin is for three years. One's already passed. Unless I can change his mind, Richard plans to return to the Holy Land and finish what he started."
Stunned, Marian wriggled away from Robin and sat up in bed. She felt as if someone had punched her in her stomach.
"Are you saying that the king will resume his crusade?"
"That's his plan. In two years' time, he means to return and take control of Jerusalem from the Saracens."
"And will you go with him?"
Marian didn't recognize her own voice. A coldness seeped into her, making her feel empty and lifeless.
Robin had no desire to return. After many wasted years, he was finally able to enjoy the life he'd always wanted. He never wanted to leave the wife and child he adored, and there was still so much work to do to restore Locksley to a happy, prosperous village. He had a duty to his wife, a duty to his child, and a duty to his people. It made him sick to think of killing again. And yet, he also had a duty to serve his king and country.
He no longer believed in the Pope Gregory's cause...to have Christians control Jerusalem. Being a young, idealistic dreamer, he believed that people of three faiths, Muslims, Jews, and Christians, could live amicably together in the holiest of cities.
He needed to convince Richard that he too had a duty...one stronger than his desire to control Jerusalem. He had a duty to remain in England and reign as her King.
But Robin didn't tell Marian any of this.
Instead, he sat up beside her and merely said, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it. Let's just enjoy the time we have now, together."
Marian didn't speak. Pursing her lips together, she rose from the bed, gathered up her scattered clothing, and began dressing.
Two more years! Would that be all they'd share before Robin would leave her to ride off to war again? No!
She wanted to talk to him about it now...tell him how she felt and make him swear he would stay. But something made her hold her tongue.
Was it fear, or dread that he would leave? Or Much's implication that she was a horrible, shrewish wife who argued all the time?
Whatever the cause, Marian held in her thoughts and barely spoke or smiled the rest of the evening.
...
(Note: I may have mentioned this in one of my previous stories, but it is a fact that King Richard planned to return to the Holy land and continue his crusade once his three-year truce with Saladin ended. He was unable to do so because he died from an infected arrow wound. If you are interested in King Richard's crusade, I recommend reading the historical novel Lionheart by Sharon Kay Penman.)
