Robin walked alone through the forest, hard pressed to come up with a plan. He wasn't working on a scheme to trick Vaisey or Gisbourne this time, however. His thoughts tonight dealt with love, not thievery.
Nothing would please him so much as to cheer up Marian. She always seemed so serious and unhappy these days. Although she had good cause, Robin wished she wouldn't be. He had witnessed enough death to convince him that life was too short to waste on being miserable. Besides, it just wasn't like her.
The Marian he remembered, though earnest and much more reserved than he, had been very happy and ready with her lovely sincere smiles. But now, more often than not, he found her scowling at him.
So, what to do to bring the sparkle back to her eyes, the dimples back to her cheeks, and the gladness back to her heart?
His feet were leading him east, towards Knighton. As he left the treeline and made his way stealthily through a pasture, he heard the unmistakable bleat of a young lamb.
"Hey, little fella," he said, crouching down in the grass, "what are you doing out here all alone?"
The lamb was certainly small, but looked healthy enough. Robin doubted the shepherd had left it here deliberately. No, more likely, the lamb had simply wandered off, and the shepherd, due to hunger or despair in these trying times, had simply given up looking for it.
Gathering the lamb in his arms, Robin's face broke into a bright grin as he felt its warmth and the incredible softness of its fleece. The thought struck him how similar this situation was to finding Seth in the woods.
"Robin Hood...bold rescuer of all abandoned infants!" he said, laughing aloud.
His eyes took on a brighter gleam as an idea struck. Marian would like this. This was something they could share.
It was perfect! Marian adored animals, and who could resist a baby lamb, after all? She would be thrilled and delighted by his unexpected surprise. Besides, the little fella needed nourishment, and who better to give it to him than the kindest and sweetest lady of all?
"I hope you know how lucky you are," Robin told it, picturing Marian's lovely face and gentle touch tending the helpless creature.
He had reached her home. It was quite a challenge to climb up to the ledge outside her window with a lamb slung over his shoulders, but he did it. He glanced behind him to be certain he wasn't being watched, then climbed into her room through the open shutters.
Normally, Robin wouldn't enter her bedchamber...especially not when Marian was abed. But this was a special occasion, and he held the purest of motives.
He stopped before nearing her bed. He could hear her soft, steady breathing. What if she slept naked?
He was pretty certain she'd slept naked when he'd hidden in her room in the castle. He couldn't be sure, since she had held on so tightly to the bedclothes covering her, but he was pretty sure. He thought about it quite a lot, sometimes even when he was supposed to be thinking up his plans to steal the sheriff's silver.
Wouldn't it be something if she always slept naked? The thought of it excited him very, very much. He forced himself to remember how pure his motives were.
"Marian," he whispered, then placed the lamb on her bed.
The lamb immediately licked her face, and Marian sat up in alarm, awakening from a deep slumber. Robin was sorely disappointed to see she was modestly dressed in a plain white linen nightdress.
She looked confused as she tried to shake the sleep away. Speaking in a low whisper, she asked, "What ...what is this? And what are you doing here? You can't be here! Get out!"
"Bleat!" The lamb cried out in hunger.
"What is this?"
Robin boldly sat beside her on her bed, and reached out to pet the lamb's soft fleece.
"I found him all alone in the pasture, Marian, hungry, and I immediately thought of the Nightwatchman. Since you're so good at passing out food parcels to those in need..."
"Are you mocking me for helping Rowen and his family?"
Robin's eyebrows shot up. Had she helped Rowen? In more ways than having him win the silver arrow from Robin's perfect shot at the Sheriff's fair today? Which reminded him...
"So, Marian, what did you think of my shot? Pretty basic shooting, of course, but still, it was a clean bullseye."
She fixed her intense, unblinking gaze on him. She definitely wasn't smiling. Not even the merely hint of a smile. Far from it, in fact.
The lamb bleated again.
"I'm serious, Marian...this lamb needs your help. Can you get him some milk?"
She took a good look for the first time at the small baby creature on her bed. It was irresistible.
"Stay here," she ordered. "I'll be right back."
When she had gone, Robin treated himself to looking all about her room. Little had changed since he'd snuck in here years ago. Unless you counted Marian's treatment of him, of course.
She returned in no time, with a bowl of milk and a clean rag. When the lamb wouldn't drink from the bowl, she dipped the cloth into the milk and let the lamb suck the milk from it. Before long, the lamb's appetite was appeased.
"There," Marian said. "I've helped you again. Take your 'baby' and go."
He made no move to leave however. He hadn't completed his mission yet. She still hadn't smiled.
He grinned at her. "You know, Marian, that's the second time recently you've said those very words to me, or something very similar."
"And yet here you still are."
He chuckled. She sounded so sarcastic.
"I didn't mean the 'go' part. I meant the 'take your baby' part."
She glared at him. "What is your point, Robin?"
"My point, Wren, is-"
"Don't call me that."
He raised his eyebrows in feigned amusement and laughed lightly. "Wren" had been a childhood nickname he had given her, misunderstanding her name when they had been extremely young.
"Wren," he whispered teasingly, edging in closer on her bed.
"Stop it!"
They both froze as she realized she had raised her voice. Luckily, her father had not awakened. Or so they believed.
Although she was angry and unfriendly, Robin couldn't help being happy in her presence. He was having a wonderful time, until he noticed her wounds.
She had been petting the lamb without thinking, and the wound on her palm had opened, staining the white wooly fleece wiith vivid scarlet spots.
"Marian?" he asked. "What happened to you?" He firmly seized her left hand and gently turned the palm upright. He saw two gnashes...a shallow one on her palm, and a deeper, more dangerous looking one on the inside of her forearm.
"Gisbourne," she answered. "He caught the Nightwatchman delivering food parcels to Rowen's family, but I got away. Then, when the wound reopened and bled during the fair, I tricked him to believe I cut my hand instead."
"Some trick...your hand really is cut." Robin's face clearly showed his alarm.
"Marian," he resumed after a pause, "why don't you let me feed those who need extra food? I'm not comfortable with you being this Nightwatchman. It's dangerous."
"Heaven forbid that I make you uncomfortable! Listen to me, Robin of Locksley," and he thrilled when she called him by his rightful title, "what I chose to do or not do is no concern of yours. Do you hear me? Your life and mine are completely separate entities."
The lamb slept peacefully between them on her bed. They both laid a hand on its warm softness. With a lightening quick motion, Robin shot his hand out, clasping her uninjured one in his.
The feel of her hand was so wonderful and familiar! She trembled...with anger? Or was it anger coupled with something sweeter?
Her father's voice broke the tension, and added a different kind of its own. "Marian?" they heard him ask. "Is someone there?"
"For Heaven's sake, go," Marian begged. "He's angry enough at me, as things are."
Robin sighed, let go of her hand, lifted the lamb carefully from the bed, and moved quickly to the window. Just before he disappeared, he winked and said, "Sheep wool, Marian, and pleasant dreams."
His pun was so awful, she grimaced. It wasn't exactly the smile he had been hoping for, but he was delighted to see it all the same.