Hearing her husband return home, Marian quickly wrapped the two small objects she'd been examining in a handkerchief, hiding them back in the drawer where she'd found them.

She knew Robin wouldn't mind her looking at his war medals, but all the same, she didn't want him catching her in the act. He was sensitive about his service, torn apart by guilt for some of war's atrocities he'd been forced to witness and commit, yet he was proud of his medals, too, bestowed upon him by King Richard, the Lionheart. And Marian, longing to share that part of his life she had no part of, was curious to know what he'd done to earn them, especially because he wouldn't talk about it.

Much, when questioned, had tried his best to satisfy her curiosity, but his accounts were less than adequate, peppered as they were with memory lapses and endless ramblings of weather reports and other unrelated topics.

"You look pretty," was Robin's first comment to her, when he entered their bedchamber.

"The mirror you gave me came in handy, after all," she told him, touching her hair she'd styled in a new fashion. "I fixed Ellie's, too."

Marian saw at once that Robin's eyes were wistful yet sad, looking at their daughter curled up asleep in the middle of her parents' bed.

"She's been wonderful company," Marian added, knowing Robin would be more likely to talk if she eased him into confessing what was obviously troubling him, rather than confronting him directly.

A law book lay open on their bed, and Robin stared at it with unblinking eyes, not really seeing it. Unable to wait any longer, Marian crossed to him and asked, "What happened, Robin?"

"She's dead, Marian," was his cryptic answer.

Marian caught her breath. "Isabella?" she asked, stunned.

Robin shook his head but said nothing.

"Who, then?"

At last, Robin's eyes met Marian's, his face the picture of guilt-ridden regret.

"Annora," he answered. "She killed herself, because of me."

As soon as Marian's initial surprise had passed, she sat upon their bed, pulling Robin down beside her. "Everything is a choice," she reminded him. "If she died by her own hands, it was her choice, Robin. You are not to blame."

"Her nurse disagrees," Robin admitted, thanking God for the beautiful, level-headed woman seated beside him. "She claims I bewitched Annora, led her on, then deserted her. She says I broke her heart."

"That's ridiculous! I know you, Robin. You may have more charm than the law ought to allow, as I believe Princess Johanna once put it, but you didn't lead her on. If Annora believed you loved her, even after you tried as kindly as you could to convince her you didn't, it was no one's fault but her own. It may be unChristian to speak ill of the dead, but the girl was a fool, Robin! You mustn't suffer a moment's grief over her."

The half-hearted smile he gave his wife showed his gratitude for her words, but he still was not convinced. "Do you remember how you used to chide me to 'grow up?' " he asked, sadly.

"I never meant it. I was just angry."

"You were right," he stated. "If I hadn't engaged in masquerading as a priest at her husband's party, she might still be alive. I'm a fool, Marian, playing tricks. Pox died because of my games, and now, Annora."

"You are a good man, Robin," Marian insisted. "Nothing can change that. You've always been clever, and your games and so-called tricks inspire others to follow you, to stand up to the evil that poisons England, with courage and good humor."

"Why did she do it?" he asked, in bewilderment. "I never meant to hurt her."

"She was wrong, not you," Marian told him, cradling his head in her arms. "And you didn't hurt her. She chose to make herself miserable over you. I didn't..."

"What?" he asked, lifting his head to meet her gaze, when words failed her.

Before answering, Marian took a deep, courageous breath. "I didn't harm myself, when you went to battle."

"I hurt you most of all," Robin realized. "I am so sorry, my love."

"We've been through this before. I only want to say, I might have done so, if I'd been more selfish."

"Not you, Marian! You couldn't!"

"I didn't. I wouldn't have done that, to my father."

"You were ill, though, I've heard. Your father made certain I knew how ill you were."

"And I might have continued, wasting away, if I hadn't chosen to help others. It was only after I began my...my service as the Nightwatchman, that I stopped feeling sorry for myself, and grew strong again."

Marian noticed that Robin was resting one hand lightly on their daughter's head, even as he reached his other to stroke her cheek. She leaned forward to receive his touch, like a flower reaching for the sun.

"You're incredible," he said, the look on his face revealing the fullness of his heart. "I don't deserve you."

"Stop it. You do. Anyway, you're stuck with me. I've gotten used to having you around."

"To mend the shutters, and scare away the mice?"

"Among other things." Sighing, Marian slid into his arms. "I'm sorry Annora killed herself," she told him. "It's horrible. But it's in no way your fault, alright?"

"I wish I could accept that," he told her, sadly kissing the top of her head.

Pounding hoofbeats followed by pounding fists beating on Locksley Manor's front door brought Robin to his feet, and awakened Ellen.

"I'll go see who it is," Robin told Marian.

Neither one realized their surprise visitor was none other than the Queen of England, Isabella of Gisbourne.