"Are you going to tell me your plan?" Marian demanded, not enjoying Robin wanting her to play guessing games.
"Alright," he snickered, in a tone meant to soothe her, but instead firing her indignation further. "Since you can't seem to figure it out, even with my clues."
"Robin!"
"Yes, my love?"
"Grow up! Is this all just a big joke to you?"
Instantly, he turned serious. "No, it's not. But I don't see any sense in not looking for the fun, instead of brooding, as gloomy as Gisbourne."
"Just tell us your plan," Marian snapped back at him.
"Alright," he agreed, all traces of impudence gone. "Much, I need you to find Will. Tell him to figure out a way to drain the moat."
"WHAT?"
"You heard me. Will can do it. Trust me, he's a genius."
"That's your plan?" Marian asked, indignantly. "No wonder you didn't want to tell me! Think, Robin. Even if Will somehow manages to do it, he'll be stopped. The king won't allow it. He'll know we're after the keys, and Will will probably find himself locked up here with us. Or is that part of your plan, as well?"
"No, it's not," Robin told her, in his smug, infuriating tone implying she was a child. "The king won't stop him. He'll be in bed, suffering from a fatal illness."
"Illness?" Much cried, confused. "The king is sick?"
"Deathly," Robin grinned. "Unfortunately, he caught what my lovely wife has."
"WHAT?" Much's head was spinning. "Marian! I didn't know you were sick. I mean, you look pretty good, except for your hair and everything. I wondered why you were in your nightclothes!"
"I'm not sick," Marian said, through clenched teeth. Why did Robin have to be so infuriating? Why did Much have to be so stupid? She felt she was living through some sort of lousy dream.
"But the king will believe you are, when Djaq diagnoses him," Robin told her, with a wink.
"Ahh!" Much cried, getting it. "The old fake illness trick! I knew it! So, that takes care of Will and Djaq. What do Allan and Little John do, Robin?"
Robin's grin widened. "Each will do what he does best!" he answered jauntily. "Almost everyone will be at the horse fair, and John will keep them there, by challenging all comers to a wrestling match. Just a little ploy I picked up from our illustrious Queen and that snake of a chancellor."
"Ahh! Like when he challenged you, with staffs, allowing Marian to be kidnapped?"
"That's right!"
"I knew it! And Allan?" Much asked, smiling eagerly.
"Allan will stay here, just outside the castle. Any stragglers who haven't made it to the fair, and are curious to know why the moat's being drained, will be treated to whatever clever explanation Allan chooses to spin."
"And a free tankard, at the Trip?" Much added.
"Very good, Much!" Robin approved. "I'm impressed!"
"Your plan sounds very complicated," Marian scowled at him. "Wouldn't it be simpler to have John bend the cell bars, or have Djaq burn the metal away?"
"It would," Robin mused. "But where would be the fun in that?"
"The fun," she told him, "would be in making it out of here alive! The fun would be in not depending on so many variables!"
"The fun, my love," he told her, "will be in me listening to you admit I was right, when we're safely home, alone together."
"In your dreams!"
"Marian!"
"What?"
He didn't say anything, only stared at her appealingly through the bars of his cage. In spite of her annoyance, she felt herself melting. With one final infuriating "Umph!" she relaxed, and said, "Alright. We'll try it your way."
"Much?" Robin invited. "You remember what to do?"
"Yes! I mean, I think! Umm..."
"Find Will," Robin prompted.
"Will! That's right! I knew it!"
"Will will drain the moat. And Djaq?"
"Djaq will call upon the king, and convince him he's dying."
"Good! John...?"
"John will distract the crowd, by wrestling. It might help if he takes off his shirt."
"I don't think that will be necessary," Robin grinned. "The Queen Mother's gone back to Aquitaine, remember?"
"Oh, yes! So she has! Too bad, really. Alright, shirt on, then. Who's left?"
"Allan," Robin reminded him.
"Oh, that's right! Allan will stand around outside, near the moat, and spin yarns, as he likes to say."
"Good, Much! Alright, my friend! You have your work cut out for you! Godspeed."
"Goodbye, Robin! Goodbye, Marian! I hope you feel better soon! Don't eat any of that food! It's bound to be poisoned, you know! Say, I have an idea...when you're both out, and free again, why don't you come over to Bonchurch, and I can cook us up a-"
"Much!"
"What?"
"The mission...?" Robin reminded him.
"Mission? What mission? Oh! yes! I was forgetting! Yes! I'm on it! Goodbye!"
After he'd finally gone, leaving Robin and Marian alone, Robin knew he needed to make amends with his justifiably angry wife.
"I'm sorry, Marian," he told her. "I don't know why I act like that."
"You're showing off, for Much," she suggested.
"Not for Much."
"For me? Well, don't. I like you better when you're sincere."
"You know I'm sincere, about you. I just like to tease. I like to see the sparks light up in your eyes. I feel so happy, and confident, when I'm with you."
"But how does it make me feel, Robin? Have you ever stopped to consider that?"
"How does it make you feel?"
"Insulted. Belittled."
"Belittled?"
"Yes. As if you think me a child."
"I don't! I respect you, Marian."
"Do you?"
"I swear it. I love you. You're wonderful. I...I admire you. I am so sorry."
She sighed, unconvinced. "I'm hungry," she suddenly mentioned. "I'm supposed to be eating for two, you know."
"Don't look at the food," he warned her.
Bells tolled the hour. "It's getting late," he realized. "Try to get some rest. Nothing will happen, until it's light tomorrow." He paused, then confessed to her, "I wish I could bend these bars, and hold you in my arms, Marian. I love you. I'll get you out of here, I swear it."
"Goodnight, Robin," she sighed, not completely forgiving him his impudence yet. "I wonder who's putting Ellie to bed?" she asked sadly, for the second time that night.
"She has an entire household in love with her," Robin told her. "She'll be fine. And, what's more, we'll be reunited with her, tomorrow."
"I hope you're right," Marian sighed, trying to get comfortable. "So much for bed rest," she added. "There's not even a bed in this cell."
"Here." In a flash, Robin removed his cloak and tossed it to her. It landed just outside her cell door. "That will keep you warm tonight," he said, wishing he could do more.
"Thank you," she said gratefully. "But you need it."
"No, I don't. Take it, my love. It's the least I can do."
"You really are a good, kind man," Marian told him, forgiving him everything. "I'm glad, and proud, to be your wife, Robin of Locksley."
His face lit up in a smile. "That is all I need, to keep me warm through the night," he told her, gazing at her adoringly.
...
Robin and Marian awoke the next morning, when a foul odor seeped into their cells.
It wasn't only odor seeping in, but liquid, foul and sludge green, oozing through the floor of the dungeon.
"What's happening?" Marian asked, jumping to her feet.
Robin's eyes grew wide. The moat, he was thinking. He'd ordered Will to drain the moat, but he hadn't expected it would back up into their cells.
"We've got to get out of here," he told his wife, cursing himself for putting his beloved in such great peril.