"Come, my dear," King John whispered in Marian's ear, so quietly even Robin's acute hearing could not make out his words. "Let us retire to my bedchamber, where you may run your fingers through my new haircut as much as you desire! I'll mould your body to mine while it's still luscious, before it mushrooms out too hideously. Come."
Marian, prepared for some kind of unwelcome invitation from the king, masked her scorn and disgust by pretending to swoon.
Immediately, Robin caught her in his arms, fooled as easily as the king by her act.
"Marian?"
Her husband's voice was worried well beyond concern, but she dared not give herself away by giving him any sign of her deception. "Take me home," she begged him weakly, hoping her flattery toward the king might have been enough to free his barber.
Robin lifted her limp body in his arms, preparing to carry her to their carriage.
"She swooned!" the king proclaimed, not knowing whether to be disappointed or complimented. "I'm not surprised."
Pouting, he huffed out an impatient sigh. "I suppose I'll just have to schedule our tryst for later. Don't keep me waiting, my dear. Who knows how long before your voluptuous curves swell, turning you into a whale! I don't care for fish, you know. I'm forced to eat entirely too much of it as it is, with the Holy Mother Church insisting on its never ending string of fast days."
His voice changed again, and Marian didn't know which she hated worse, his spoiled petulance, or his now simpering, lustful tones. "Send me word of your recovery, my beauty," he wooed her, "for I've waited far too long already to sample the delights of your table."
"I guess you're just going to have to stay hungry, since it's too much to expect you to cull your desires," Marian heard Robin angrily tell the king. "You'll be waiting past Judgment Day, for to reach my wife, you'll have to first get by me."
"You dare to threaten your monarch?" King John accused.
"I make no threats. I'm promising you, King John, try laying one finger on my wife, and I'll-"
Meaning to help, Marian stopped his angry flow of words the only way she knew how, by digging her nails into his already sore wrists. But the damage had already been done.
"Treason!" the king cried out, leaping to his feet. "Arrest Locksley!"
"Please, Your Majesty," Marian begged, surprising everyone by seeming to make an instant recovery. "Spare my husband, and make me the most grateful woman in Christendom! Arrest him, and I'll sink into a grief so deep, I'll do nothing but weep and moan, endlessly."
"Arrest him!" Isabella shrieked, deciding the king against it, since it was such good sport to vex her. Besides, the thought of the beautiful Lady Locksley indebted to him was too tempting to pass up.
"Very well, my dear," the king told Marian. "But don't forget, my mercy comes with a price. A pretty price, you may be sure, but a price all the same. I'll send for you. Now, go, and take Locksley with you. Bored now. Begone."
...
The ride back home to Locksley was as tense as might have been expected. Robin fumed silently within the carriage alongside a grim and equally silent Marian. The carriage was confining, thick with tension, and Robin almost wished he was walking home, since he'd hitched his horse to pull the coach, having deposited Willy on a much poorer but unsuspecting James Fitzhugh.
Unable to remain silent any longer, Robin finally exploded, saying, "You're playing a dangerous game, Marian."
"I was trying to save an innocent man from hanging. I can handle the king, Robin."
"As well as you could handle Gisbourne? I remember you telling me on more than one occasion you could handle him, and look what happened! In case you've forgotten, you ended up engaged, or stabbed, or dead-"
"I'm not the one who was nearly placed under arrest today! You're welcome, by the way, for saving you."
"And what's your plan now, when the king sends for you? Sweet talk him about his new haircut again? Bad idea."
"It worked, Smugly, or I hope it did. I wouldn't be surprised if he asks his barber to always style his hair that way."
"You haven't answered my question, Marian."
"You haven't asked me nicely."
Robin gritted his teeth, heaving out a hot sigh of frustration. Her stubbornness knew no limits!
"Alright then. I can be every bit as nice as the king. Tell me, voluptuous lady, before you mushroom out to the size of a whale, what you mean to do, when His most chivalrous and attractively coifed Majesty summons you to his bed?"
"Grow up."
"Answer my question."
"Are you commanding me now?"
"As your husband, yes."
She stared back at him, somewhere between tears and mocking laughter. Robin pressed on.
"Why is it, everyone listens and obeys my commands, but you?"
Marian couldn't believe his attitude. "Stop the coach," she ordered the driver, pounding her fist on the wall nearest him.
"Now, what do you think you're doing?" Robin demanded, completely taken aback.
"One of us is walking home, preferably you," she answered. "I refuse to ride with a man who wants to make me his puppet."
"Pup-" Robin's mouth hung open, while he stared at her in amazement, unable to speak.
The carriage drew to a stop, and Marian, not even looking at him, ordered, "Get out."
For the second time that day, he answered a woman telling him to get out with a curt, "Gladly."
The exchange recalled Isabella's earlier words, supplying Marian with her parting shot. "Isabella was right about one thing," she told him through the open door, while he gathered his bow and strapped on his quiver. "Kissing you is like kissing a hedgehog!"