Marian couldn't stop staring at the beautiful princess in Robin's house.
To Marian's little girl eyes, the Queen was an old woman, and therefore, not at all interesting. Twelve-year-old Prince John looked nearly grown to her, but he behaved like a spoiled, whiney baby, and he wasn't anywhere nearly as handsome as her friend Robin, so the prince didn't interest her either. But Princess Joan!
Like most little girls, Marian loved pretending she was a princess herself. She had even named her horse "Princess," and she adored listening to stories featuring beautiful princesses, though she often wished they would behave more sensibly in the stories, and act braver, and not need rescuing quite so much.
But now, she couldn't believe she was actually in the same room with a real, live, beautiful princess, who seemed everything Marian's girlish heart could ever wish a true princess to be! Why hadn't Robin told her how beautiful Princess Joan was, when he'd been away at the King's Court? Whenever he'd come home, he'd barely mentioned her. Instead, he'd raved on an on about her big brother, Prince Richard, and how fearless and strong and benevolent he was. Marian had listened politely, but she hadn't cared. In her mind, not even a prince could match Robin in bravery or looks or kindness, but she wouldn't tell him so.
The two of them had withstood the fierce, wilting looks their fathers cast on them when they came tumbling into the manor to greet the Queen. Marian could see what a mess Robin looked, and she supposed she must look every bit as dirty and unkempt as he. Not to mention, the fact they were so late!
After one scorching look from Her Majesty, accompanied by a stern, "You're late, Robin," the Queen had grown amused by their disheveled appearances, and had pleasantly ordered Robin to relay their adventures to her. She had even draped a motherly arm around his waist, drawing him near to her while she sat, as she listened and laughed at his stories. And when Robin pulled out a wormy apple he had saved for Princess and offered it to the Queen instead, she laughed so hard she had to wipe tears from her royal eyes.
"No, Robin," the Queen said with a warm smile, "you must abide by your original plan and give the apple to the mare. I like the fact you wish to bestow your favors on a "princess," after all." The Queen gave Lord Locksley a meaningful look, before turning back to his son.
Prince John hated his "Mumsie" paying Locksley's heir so much attention. He stomped his foot and pouted, "You really ground grain in a mill? How could you belittle your station, and consort with peasants? Oh, I forget whom I'm addressing! You're the one who prefers a yeoman's bow and arrows to a nobleman's sword!" Turning to the Earl of Huntington, he narrowed his eyes and taunted, "If I didn't know better, Locksley, I'd say your late wife gave you horns by spreading her legs for a common serf! How else can you explain her offspring's preference for the company and pursuits of peasants?"
"John!" Queen Eleanor exclaimed. "Apologize at once!"
"I won't! Robin of Locksley is a little beast! I'm sure his mother was a whore."
"You take that back," Robin fumed, hurt and anger in his childish eyes.
"Bastard, bastard!" John cried, in a sing songy voice.
"I give you until the count of three to take that back!" Robin warned. "One, two, three!"
In a flash, Robin leaped upon the Prince, threw him to the floor, straddled his body, and began pounding him with his fists. Marian was the only person in the room proud of the boy. Everyone else, including the Queen, was outraged.
Robin's father, the Earl, was torn between pride in his son for defending his mother, and mortification that he had dared to hurt a Prince of the Realm.
Pulling his son off the prince, he furiously sent him to his room. "You do not touch Royalty!" he ordered. "Where are your manners? Go to your room, young man, and stay there, until I can think of a punishment worthy of your crime! Thornton," he ordered his reeve, "bring me all of Robert's presents. I will see them all given to others, more worthy of them."
Robin pretended not to care. It was worth it to beat his fists into Prince John for insulting his mother, even if he did feel disgraced in front of the Queen. He shot a quick glance at Marian, who nodded to him with sympathy and approval in her eyes. Her support made him smile, a slow, proud smile that irritated his father even further.
Robin didn't care so much about losing his presents, except for the hunting knife with the ivory handle he knew he was to have received. He had dreamed of that knife and longed for it for weeks, ever since he had ruined his own blade by secretly using it to carve his initials with Marian's in the trunk of a tree, deep in Sherwood Forest. Only Much knew he had done so, but Much didn't know what he had been carving, not having been taught his letters.
Prince John smirked as Robin ran past him and up the stairs to his room.
Marian looked after her friend, feeling so sorry for him, and wanting to help. She glanced at Princess Joan, to gage her reaction. The beautiful princess sat on her chair, immovable and still as a statue. For all the reaction she made, it might never have happened.