"Celebrating, are we?"
From her place in the doorway, Matilda clicked her tongue and shook her head at a confident, self composed Robin, whose bulging arms tightly enfolded his flame cheeked wife in a bath.
"Exactly what part of my order 'bed rest' can't you understand?" Matilda scolded.
"The last time I checked, Matilda," Robin smirked back, ignoring her question, "common courtesy required it customary to knock before entering."
With only a lift of her eyebrows and an amused, wry smile, Matilda clenched her fist into a ball and rapped three slow, distinct knocks on the open door beside her.
"There! Courtesy honored. Now," she said, holding her fist before her face, "unless you want this making contact with your perfect profile, stand up."
"I won't," Robin declared, looking and sounding a bit like a spoiled child.
"Why not? Do you think I care if your soldier's standing at full attention?"
"Matilda!"
"I'm only here to look at your leg. And as for you," she scolded, staring down an angry, embarrassed Marian, "step out of that tub and get to bed. I'll be in to check on you as soon as I'm done with this one."
"How dare you?" Marian finally managed to ask. "We don't need to be mollycoddled. We need to get clean."
"Mollycoddled, is it?" Matilda snorted. "If that's what you think I'm about, you deserve the tongue lashing I'm all set to give you! What do you think you're about, young lady, throwing yourself into danger? And what's that you're using to wash off the muck?"
During this exchange, Robin was reaching for his robe, having no intention of exposing all his glory to Matilda's uninterested eyes. While Matilda and Marian continued arguing, he managed to grab it, stand, push his arms through the sleeves, and fasten it closed, before Matilda could laugh at him.
"Rose petals, rose-water, and the finest soap from Aquitaine," Marian answered, ignoring the more important question.
"Hmph!" Matilda snorted. "Fine lot of good that'll do you! It'll mask the stench, but do precious little to remove it."
"What do you suggest we use?" Marian asked, nodding at her husband when he held out his hand, ready to help her rise and wrap her in a towel.
Despite Matilda's presence, Robin couldn't take his eyes off his wife when she stood up. He forgot all about handing her the towel, made awestruck by the incredible loveliness of her body, dripping wet, with its belly's gentle swell. That perfectly gorgeous body he longed to cover with kisses was sheltering their child, nurturing and protecting it, until it was time for it to be born. Another miracle, just as Ellie was. Robin realized he needed to do more to shelter and protect Marian. Matilda was right, he decided. He couldn't allow her to put herself in harm's way again.
His mind's reverie was cut short when Marian yanked the towel from his hand. Robin couldn't help but smile, finding Marian looking so adorable wrapped in a towel, her eyes flashing with indignation.
"Give yourselves a good scrubbing with this," Matilda advised, digging through her sack and tossing Robin a bar of soap. "Made from sand, ashes, lye, and tallow fat. None of your flowery ointments, but it'll rub the stink away."
"And burn the skin off with it," Robin grinned. "No thank you, Matilda. We'll stick to Queen Eleanor's ointments. Besides, I'm thinking it might not be such a bad thing, for my wife and I to smell less than fragrant for a couple of days. Might take care of a problem or two."
"What problems?" Marian asked, before Matilda could ask the same question.
"King John and the chancellor's wife, for starters," Robin laughed.
"Robin, what are you planning now?" Marian wondered.
"Whatever it is, it had better involve bed rest," Matilda scolded. "And that goes double for you," she scolded Marian. "Back to bed with you, this instant! And stay there, until I say you may get up!"
Having no desire to listen to any more lectures while dressed in nothing but a towel, Marian left the bath chamber and headed back to bed, leaving Robin alone with Matilda's scolding tongue.
"So," the healer began, "let's take a look at that leg. I can take the stink, even if you do niff to high heaven."
"Is it that bad?" Robin asked, laughing. "I think I've gotten used to it."
"Only when you get up close," she answered honestly. "Now, lift your robe, so I can access the damage."
Robin obeyed, lifting the left side of his robe to his hip, exposing his wounded thigh. While Matilda probed and prodded, clucking and shaking her head all the while, Robin asked, "There's no chance Marian caught an infection, from the moat? She seems perfectly well."
"She might have," Matilda admitted. "You certainly did. Drop your robe; I've seen enough. What's the matter with you?" she asked, chucking him on the side of his head. "Don't have the sense you were born with! Do you really want to end up like Gisbourne, buried under the moat, where nobody knew until today?"
"Gisbourne? What are talking about?"
"You haven't heard? Your wife's emerald earrings weren't the only treasure found, when Will sent the moat backing up on you! Gisbourne's bones were there...been there since he disappeared, it would seem. The Queen's making quite a show of grief, milking her lies for all they're worth. The king, by the way, made a miraculous recovery, soon as Djaq told him he could heal himself, by placing his hands on his own head to drive out his imaginary illness. The whole thing's a great diversion away from him wanting to recapture you, by the way. But never you mind. He'll grow bored soon enough, and come looking for you."
"What about Gisbourne?" Robin demanded again.
"Ask your wife," Matilda counselled. "With your leg infected, you're going to have plenty of time to chat. It's back to bed rest for you, too, laddie! Now, take this ointment and rub it into your leg, three times a day. And get to bed! Never mind me. I'll just see to your wife now, and be on my way, leaving you to enjoy your heart to heart, and catch up on all the news she's been keeping from you concerning that dim-witted fox turd, Sir Guy of Gisbourne, may his blackened soul rot in hell."