Feeling in no hurry to welcome King John and Isabella to his estate, Robin reluctantly lifted Marian down from the stone wall and, grabbing hold of her hand, followed Much back to Locksley.
"Why is she here?" Marian asked, anxiously. "I thought you escorted her to Kirklees."
Thinking it wiser not to volunteer the fact he'd left Isabella alone and stranded on the way to Kirklees, Robin remained quiet. He didn't want to start another argument with Marian, just after they'd patched up their most recent quarrel, with their feelings still so raw. Thankfully, Much was talking so much, Robin couldn't get a word in edgewise, even if he'd wanted to.
"The king's really angry at you this time, not that he hasn't been angry before," Much warned him. "Oh, yes! There's nothing he hates as much as not being invited to a party!"
"Don't be ridiculous," Marian scolded, rolling her eyes. "It's not as if we planned to exclude him. Robin just thought of holding a feast, after mass. The whole thing was spontaneous."
"Spontaneous! Try telling the king that! You haven't seen his face! It's...it's...well, it's threatening! And...and purple! You just wait! You'll see!"
Marian looked concerned. "How does Isabella look? Is she alright?"
"Her?" Much exploded, confused. "Why do you want to know? You know how she looks! She looks...well, beautiful, and...and sly! Like a cat who licked up all the cream, secretly swallowing a songbird while she was at it!" In spite of the situation, he laughed. "Can't you just see her, with a few feathers sticking out the corner of her mouth? Wouldn't Sheriff Vaisey be mad, if she'd ate one of his birds? Or is it eaten? I never can remember!"
Marian had no wish to speak of Vaisey, or to give Much a lesson in grammar. Turning her face to Robin, she asked, "Do you suppose the king found her at Kirklees, and forced her to leave?"
For a moment, Robin didn't answer, staring into the depths of her eyes. He'd made a promise to himself, years ago, never to lie to her. "I doubt it," he finally replied, not lying exactly, but certainly veiling the truth.
By this time, they'd arrived in their village, and Robin let go of Marian's hand to stride purposefully toward the pouting king and his sneering queen.
"Your Majesties," Robin said, kneeling, hiding his disgust. "Welcome, once again, to Locksley."
"No, no, NO!" King John shouted, stomping his foot. "You can't be all nicey nicey now, Locksley, pretending you're happy to greet me, when all along, you treacherous fiend, you planned to host a party without me, knowing very well I was in your miserable little shire! It's nothing short of treason, I tell you!"
"Punish him, my king," Isabella insisted, slyly. "Torture him for his crime."
She could already picture Robin chained to a wall, shirtless and sweating, writhing in agony while she herself lashed his body with a whip.
"I had not meant to exclude Your Majesties," Robin told them, pleasantly, as he rose. "This feast was just a whim of mine, hardly worthy of your presence! But, now that you're here, it is my honor to invite you to-"
"Spare us your honey coated lies!" Isabella shrieked. "You know very well you planned this feast, laughing at your sovereign behind his back!"
Robin shot Isabella a glare, which she answered with a sneering look of triumphant.
So, you and your precious Marian are still together! All that will change, when you find the little souvenir letter I left you! I only wish I could see your face when you read her words to my brother Guy!
The king, meanwhile, began to weep.
"You wound me, Locksley! Is it too much to ask, for a king to want his subjects to love him?"
Growing suddenly vicious, he mocked threateningly,"After all, you, above all men, know what it is to long for the love of your people! Well, then, let's see if my words can turn them against you!" Lifting his voice to address the crowd, he proclaimed, "Good people of Locksley! Poor, misguided humble folk! Your lord, whom you profess to love so much, is nothing but a vicious killer! Did you know that? Alas, it's true! Locksley here, while appearing to be innocent, has committed a vile, indecent crime!"
"What crime?" Marian couldn't help demanding.
When the king saw her, his face lit up in a leering grin. "Oh! Lovely Miriam! My, how you've swollen up, in such a short time! I suppose it will have to be you in the saddle, when we finally enjoy our ride together, between the sheets! I, for one, can't wait!"
Marian's cheeks flamed with embarrassment and indignation, but her feelings were nothing compared to Robin's righteous anger.
"Apologize to my wife," he demanded, not caring what rank the king held.
"Apologize? You have some nerve, Locksley, issuing orders to your monarch! Especially when I have come here, to have you arrested!"
"Arrested? For not inviting you to dinner?"
"Well, there's that, too. But no. I have come to charge you with the murder of Annora Fitzhugh!"
No one knew who threw the first turnip at the king and queen. Some claimed it was Daniel, the stable boy, while others later insisted it was Kate, the potter's daughter. But it didn't matter, for whoever started the assault of fruit and vegetables on the royal couple, had the rest the village behind them. Turnips, onions, apples, all began flying through the air to rain upon a screaming King John and his shrieking queen. Chaos broke out, and the king's guards couldn't get close enough to stop the assault.
Robin watched in shock, especially when he saw Marian pick up an apple and throw it, hitting the king squarely on his nose.
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Robin shouted, and such was his command, his orders were instantly obeyed.
The king, outraged and furious, could hardly speak. When he finally managed to gain a measure of control, he bellowed, "Every person who dared hurl an object at my royal person, will lose a hand!"
"No!" Robin shouted, while his people cowered in fear. "No one loses anything today!"
"Someone has to pay for their attack on the king!" Isabella cried, smoothing down her hair. "My poor sire!" Wearing her slyest look, she seductively made a show of nibbling on her husband's ear, then whispered loud enough for all to hear, "Let Locksley prove his love for his village! Let him forfeit a hand in their place! Just think, my king, how difficult it will be for him, to shoot his bow with only one hand!"
King John laughed gleefully. "Once again, my pet, you delight me with your suggestions! Very well! Locksley! I have decided to be merciful to your village, though your peasants don't deserve my bountiful mercy! You will be the one to give up your hand, in their stead! Pity you've trimmed your nails! I plan to have your hand preserved, and attached to an ivory stick! What a novel back scratcher it will make! Don't you agree, lovely Miriam?"