"Robin," Princess Joan said, once they were alone in his room, "I can't tell you how sorry I am about your lord father's death. But you can be proud of the way he died, serving his country."
Robin felt too stunned to answer. "I don't understand," he muttered quietly. "The king said he's going to give Ireland to Prince John. I thought my father was fighting so it would stay in Irish hands."
"Don't be silly," the princess stated. "Why should my father let the Irish keep control, when they can't even protect their own borders? This wasn't the first time their king begged for my father's help. It's ours now, thanks in part to the bravery of your father."
Robin remained silent, too hurt and confused to speak.
While Princess Joan walked about his room, curiously examining all Robin's belongings, she tried to explain. "John, beast though he is, needed some land, after all. Hal, as the oldest surviving son, will get England and Normandy. Richard will inherit our mother's duchy of Aquitaine. And Geoffrey will have Brittany, along with his bride, your Aunt Constance. Father had absolutely nothing left to offer John, which is ironic, considering John is the only one of his legitimate sons who didn't openly rebel against him. Well, that war is over, thank God, though Father swears never to forgive our mother, wrongly accusing her of turning my brothers against him."
Robin had heard about the Plantagenet family rebellion, and had privately supported the queen and princes against King Henry, but none of that mattered to him now. His father was dead. And not only his father, distant though loving, but his friend, Will Stutely, the man who had taught him to shoot! Robin couldn't believe he'd never hear Will's gravelly voice scold him ever again.
Joan didn't care for silence, or sorrow. She liked to be surrounded by smiles and cleverness, pageantry and laughter. She hoped Robin would snap out of his cheerless mood shortly, and amuse her, as he'd done on her previous visit.
"My father is very generous to his children," she continued, as a way to steer the conversation to the topic she really wanted to discuss. "Leonora and Tilda were given excellent husbands. I'm the only daughter left, and dreadfully spoiled, so I'm told. But you don't find me so very bad, do you, Robin?"
The boy could only shake his head.
"I thought not! But anyway, it's my turn to be married off next, and I'm hoping I might have some say in my own bridegroom! What do you think? My father wants to marry me to William, the King of Sicily! But I might persuade him against it, if I work really hard."
The door to the room pushed open, and little Marian Fitzwalter enterred.
Joan saw Robin look gratefully into Marian's face, then quickly turn and look away.
Robin didn't want to cry, but he felt he would if he continued looking into the kindness he found in Marian's eyes.
"Robin, I'm so sorry," Marian said, truly meaning it.
The boy remained stoic. At all costs, he couldn't let Marian see him hurt.
"It's alright," he said, baffling his friend. "I was just listening to the princess tell me about her wedding."
Marian was so confused, she couldn't speak. So Joan spoke for both the silent, confused children.
"The Sicilian King is very rich, but old! And look at me! I'm young, and quite beautiful! I don't think I want to move to Sicily! I think I might rather want to stay in England, if I can find a suitable husband here, among the nobility. What do you think, Robin? My mother the queen suggested I marry you, when we're of age."
Both Robin and Marian stared at the princess in utter disbelief, then turned and looked at one another.
Without thinking, Robin reached for and grabbed Marian's hand, saying, "No, Your Highness. You need to go to Sicily, and be a queen. I could never marry you."