"The first time I held my bow, I knew. It felt right, like it had been made for me. And that's how I feel about you."

Marian awakened from her wonderful dream of an incredible man, standing over a grave in the forest, shyly and heartfeltly speaking incredible words to her. Flashes of that man had filled her dreams, appearing in turns as a boy, a lord, a crusader, a fugitive, a prisoner, a father...but always, kind, and bold and brave and true, helping others and loving her.

Who was he? She longed to go back to sleep, just to be with him again.

But the bedbugs infesting her mattress made sleep impossible. On still shaky legs, Marian climbed out of bed and pulled off the only garment covering her, a rough, brown, shapeless, woolen gown, to examine her bug bites by the light of a single, sputtering candle. What she saw upon her skin made her sit back down.

Two large brown scars across her abdomen sent shock waves through her. A flash of memory, no longer than the blink of an eye, showed an image that made her shiver.

A man, tall, brooding, handsome, angry, completely dressed in black, appeared for an instant in her mind's eye, frightening her. He wanted something from her, something she didn't want to give him...something she couldn't give, yet she knew he wouldn't rest until he had taken it from her. She shuddered, pushing the image out of her mind.

She had a few bug bites that stung and itched, yet she felt itchy everywhere, from the gown. Her belly looked slightly swollen, and she tried pulling in her stomach muscles, but it didn't help. That was odd, because everywhere else, her body seemed remarkably fit.

Was she...with child? Would that Bruno know? Would it even be safe to ask him? Marian felt angry and impatient, not knowing anything.

She wanted to get out of here, to breathe fresh air again that wasn't putrid. But first, she really needed to pee.

Not finding a chamber pot, Marian winced, realizing she'd need to use the basin she'd been sick in. She was almost sick again when she spied it, crawling with cockroaches breakfasting on her stomach's leavings. But she had no other choice.

Feeling slightly better, she pulled the gown back over her head and wobbled unsteadily to her door. It was locked from the outside.

"Hello," she called through it. "Please, could someone let me out?"

Sounds of raised voices, arguing over money, met her ears. Balling her fist, she began pounding on her door. "Open this door!" she shouted, surprising herself by the regal, commanding tone in her voice.

Thankfully, someone answered her command. An ugly man with a chest as broad as a barrel, with arms to match, flung open the door.

"I assume you're Bruno," Marian said coldly. "I will thank you to not lock me in. I'm not a prisoner, after all."

"But that's where you're wrong, Hortense," Bruno sneered. "You are a prisoner. My prisoner. You work for me now. I own you, and you'll do everything I say."

"I refuse. Stand aside, and let me pass."

Even in her weakened condition, Marian managed to hold her head high, appearing every inch a queen.

But Bruno reminded himself, he was working for the real Queen now. After he'd gone to Isabella and confessed he'd taken Lady Locksley to a bawdy house, he'd been rewarded with a few silver coins instead of the berating he'd been expecting. The Queen seemed thrilled with this new turn of events, giving him a vial of another tonic that would rob the lady of her memory, and detailed instructions to keep the beautiful young woman a prisoner.

"Take that, Robin!" the queen had glowered, triumphantly. "You dared imply I am a whore, by kicking that wig at me! Well! Guess who's going to be a whore now, in reality!"

Bruno was amazed at his good fortune. With Lady Locksley's face and body, he knew he'd soon become a rich man.

But she couldn't be recognized. You never knew who might walk through the door, and know her. Lords, bishops, knights, merchants...all men were the same, when they got an itch and needed it scratched. No. She was standing on her feet again. Time to change her appearance and put her to work.

Lunging toward her, Bruno spun Marian around and shoved her face down on the bed. "Get off me!" she shouted.

Holding her down, he pulled out a knife. "From now on, you'll be a blond," he told her, hacking off her hair at chin level.

Marian struggled, but couldn't fight her way out from under the man's heavy weight and superior strength. As he cut off her hair, another image flashed through her mind...the image of a crowd of somber spectators watching her, the vision of a mild, gentle older man with tears in his eyes, the feel of her head being pulled back as shears cut off her hair, the feeling of humiliation and tears stinging her eyes, the sound of a hated voice trumpeting, "We cannot have challenges to our authority. The law applies to everybody, even the privledged."

"You will pay for this," Marian promised the man, through clenched teeth.

"No," he argued. "It's the gents who'll be paying for you, Hortense. Relax, or they'll be calling you Tense Whore."

Completing his chore of hacking off her hair, Bruno released Marian, holding a thick lock of it in his hand. "Soft," he muttered, fingering it. "Think I'll tie a ribbon around this and sell it at the fair. Never know, some lonely fool might just buy it, finger it when he goes to sleep, pretending he's got a real woman sleepin' beside him."

"You're sick," Marian spat out.

"Stay here," Bruno laughed mockingly at her. "I'll be back with your new trappings."

The door shut behind him, locking Marian in again. Enraged, she fingered the uneven ends of her hair, and gasped, picturing the man from her dreams again.

She was looking down at him, from horseback? He was hurrying toward her, full of energy and purpose, but his handsome eyes under his hood looked startled, and he seemed to blurt out, "Your hair!"

"It was a nuisance to wash," Marian heard her own voice tell him. He seemed to accept her answer, at least, he accepted that was the answer she wanted to give him, which she felt now was kind and respectful of him.

Who was he? She loved him, she knew! She felt it. She needed to be with him, and their...yes! Their daughter!

She could picture her, too; smell her sweetness. What was her name? Why couldn't she remember?