Robin knocked on the door to his father's study and waited. Hearing no response, he carefully pulled open the door.

His father was seated at his desk, bent over his heavy ledger accounts.

"Sir?" Robin spoke. "You wanted to see me?"

"Robert!"

The earl looked up from his books at the figure of his son, framed in the doorway. "Come in," he ordered crisply. "Close the door behind you."

"Yes, sir."

Robin did as he was told, and approached his father's desk. Lord Malcolm put down his quill pen, but remained seated.

"I hope you have a good explanation for why you missed your mathematics lesson today," he began sternly.

"No, Sir," Robin confessed. "I just forgot. I'm truly sorry."

Lord Locksley frowned. "Sorry isn't good enough, young man! Master Pieter went to a great deal of trouble coming here to teach you! And by your absence, you insulted him! You took no thought of his time, his efforts, nor his abilities!"

"I meant no disrespect, Father. I'll write him my apologies, and work doubly hard at my lesson, I promise."

"Yes, you will. Starting now." The earl rose, and indicated he wanted Robin to sit in his chair. Robin obeyed.

"Now," Lord Malcolm began, "look at the columns of numbers in these ledgers. They represent rents owed and rents paid on our properties. You may begin by adding those figures."

Robin's eyes grew wide at the long columns of numbers. "All of them?" he asked, unhappily.

"Yes, all of them. It shouldn't prove too difficult. It's only addition."

"But I struggle with addition! I don't know why. I just do."

"Then you must spend more time adding, until you master it." Lord Locksley sighed. "Master Pieter tells me you grasp complicated mathematical concepts that should be way over your head, with little trouble. He gives me glowing reports of your work in astronomy. But he despairs of your lack of ability to perform simple sums. Therefore, you must practice! Do you think you'd be half the archer you are, if you never practiced with your bow?"

"No, Sir, but numbers! Of course I can add! It's just, somehow, when I look at them, they get all mixed up, like they're swimming."

"Swimming? That's ridiculous. You only need to apply yourself, and then, you won't have this problem any more. Get to work. And, Robert, once you have finished, you will write that letter of apology to Master Pieter, and bring it to me to read. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father."

"And what's more, you will compensate him for his lost time today."

Robin looked up from the ledgers. "Compensate him? How?"

"You will pay him, of course."

"Pay him? With money?"

"Yes, with money! When you are finished here, you will bring me the purse of silver Her Majesty so graciously gave to you on your birthday."

Robin breathed out a long drawn out breath. "I'm afraid that's impossible, Sir," he told his father.

Lord Malcolm raised his eyebrows. What now? With this boy, there was no telling!

"Impossible?" he repeated. "Why do you say that?"

Robin blurted out the truth, knowing his words would earn his father's disapproval. "Because, Sir, I gave the money away."

"Away?"

Lord Locksley was indignant. For awhile, he could not speak. When at last he found his tongue, he scolded, "Do you mean to tell me, a gift from Her Majesty means so little to you, that you'd toss it away, the very next day after you received it? Speak! Answer me, young man!"

"I thanked the Queen for her kindness! But she gave it to me, to do with as I pleased! And I didn't toss it away, Sir! I exchanged it for something else!"

"What?" Lord Malcolm barked. "Beeswax for your bowstring? Fish hooks? What?"

"No, Sir, nothing so ordinary! I exchanged the silver for pennies!"

Lord Malcolm did not think he'd heard his son correctly. "Pennies?" he gasped. "Robert, you are not a simpleton! What are you saying to me? That you traded silver coins for pennies? That makes no sense at all!" He began to pace. "That's it!" he cried. "You've been spending too much time with the miller's son! That boy's idiocity has rubbed off on you!"

"Much is no idiot!" Robin objected, jumping to his feet. "And I won't hear him called so, not even by you, Father!"

"You do not raise your voice to me, young man! That's it! I'm taking away your bow, for a week, until you learn respect!"

"Don't take my bow! Please, Father! I'll clean out the stables, or pull turnips, or, anything! But don't take my bow!"

"You do not bargain with me! Would you like to make it two weeks?"

"No, Father."

"Get to work. I'll be back in an hour, and you had better have those figures tallied correctly by then. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Goodbye, Robert. Perhaps, when we've both calmed down, you can explain to me why you saw fit to trade Her Majesty's purse for pennies."

"Yes, Father."

Lord Locksley hesitated, watching his son's head bend over his books. Robin didn't see him reach out his hand to tenderly stroke the top of his head, and he didn't feel the touch, either, for at the last moment, his father pulled back his hand without having touched him.

All Robin heard was the heavy oaken door closing, locking him in, alone with row upon row of swimming numbers.