"So, tell me the truth. What happened between you and Marian while I was away?"
Robin's tone was friendly...wheedling even...but his eyes glinted with a hardness that made Martin shiver. Still, his face did wear a smile, in spite of his eyes looking so threatening. Perhaps it wouldn't matter. After all, it wasn't as if Marian had been his wife, or even his intended while he was gone. They had broken their betrothal just before he had left for war.
Martin hesitated, wisely wanting to avoid angering Locksley...he meant Hood. Hood's smile widened as he moved in closer. "Just between us men," he coaxed winningly, with a wink, "what happened?"
Martin couldn't resist Robin's inviting tone. "Care for some wine?" he asked, passing a wineskin and a goblet.
Robin took a swig of wine from the skin, and handed it back. Martin scowled distastefully, since he hadn't poured it into the goblet. Such rudeness! And to think...he had always been envious of Locksley's effortless manners in the past! Times had indeed changed!
"Well," Martin began nervously, "it all began at Christmastime, a few years after you'd gone."
"Christmastime," Robin repeated. "Go on."
"Yes. Well, we dined together, and danced, and there was..."
"Yes?"
"There was mistletoe."
Robin's eyes didn't blink, but they changed perceptably. They seemed to grow even harder than before. His smile remained frozen on his face.
"Mistletoe," he replied slowly, drawing out the word distastefully. "I see."
"Yes, and we kissed under the mistletoe, and it was all very festive."
"Go on."
Martin began to warm to his subject. Who would have ever thought that he, Martin of Aylesbury, would be able to boast to Robin of Locksley, the man all the ladies' eyes followed, about the amorous attentions paid him by the beautiful Lady Marian? It was rewarding!
"Well," he continued, pouring a goblet of wine for himself, "she obviously liked what I gave her, because the very next night, she wanted more of the same!"
"Indeed?"
"Yes! I was quite surprised, Locksley, when she pulled me under the mistletoe herself!" He leaned in closer, as if to impart a salacious secret. "There were people watching, of course, including her father, so we couldn't really be satisfied, if you know what I mean! Still, I counted to five, I remember, before releasing her."
"You counted?"
"To five," Martin bragged. "In my head."
There was a pause, broken by Robin chuckling.
"I can't say I've ever thought of numbers myself, when I've had the pleasure of her lips," he laughed. But then he grew serious again...deadly serious. "But I heard you were betrothed. I heard it for years, when I was in the Holy Land. Is it true?"
Martin smiled proudly. This was indeed satisfying! Locksley and he were like old friends, men of the world, trading stories about their exploits with women. He had never felt so masculine in his entire life.
"Be patient! I'm getting to that! I've a few more fascinating tidbits I think you'll be interested to hear first."
Robin folded his arms across his chest and shifted his weight back and forth on his widely spread stance. "Tidbits," he repeated coldly.
"Yes, indeed! Just you listen!" The wine was doing its job, loosening Martin's tongue. "Well, that same evening, after we dined and danced, she surprisingly led me out of the Great Hall into the chilly castle courtyard, where we were all alone...all alone, mind you, and kissed me as I've never been kissed before or since!"
The smile on Robin's face faded completely away. "I thought I heard you're married now. Isn't your wife expecting a child?"
"Yes, but what has that to do with Lady Marian? I thought we were discussing her."
"Never mind. So, she kissed you...passionately." It had taken effort for him to say the last word. "Why?"
"Why? Why do you think, Locksley? Surely, you're no ignorant schoolboy!"
Robin drew a deep breath through gritted teeth. Although the sergeant had said he was unarmed, it wasn't completely true. His hunting knife was strapped to his belt over his right buttock. He pulled it out of its sheath now, and slid his fingers up and down its sharp blade, staring all the while at Aylesbury, his eyes fiery in their intensity.
...
(To be continued)