Charging down the hill, Robin saw two of Gisbourne's guards dragging Bette, the blond baker's daughter, toward Locksley Manor. A third guard held back Bette's beloved, Walter, who struggled in vain to free his love.
Robin used his bow to beat back the guards, then finished off the job with his fists. In no time at all, all three guards lay unconscious on the ground.
Out of breath but triumphant, Robin turned to the couple to learn what had happened.
"They were dragging Bette to Gisbourne," Walter explained, so angry he nearly choked on the words. "He claims he has a right to her before our marriage."
Of course! The "droit du seigneur!" Gisbourne's "right" as lord of the manor to sample the bride-to-be in the marriage bed before her husband! Robin frowned angrily. It might be the law, but it was hardly moral.
"Well, it's good thing I came along to disappoint him." Robin dismissed his disgust for Gisbourne and tried to lighten Bette's fears with good natured teasing. "About time you two were getting married."
"We wanted to marry sooner, my lord," Walter explained, "but with taxes so high, I couldn't keep a wife. I still can't, but we can't wait any longer."
Robin glanced at the small swell under Bette's gown. No, they certainly could not wait!
"Let me marry you," he offered.
"You?" Bette asked. "Now?"
"I have the right. I am the rightful Lord of Locksley. Besides, once you're married, Gisbourne won't touch you. He may be unprincipled vermin, but even he wouldn't take advantage of you married. That would officially constitute rape, and the only rape he cares to commit is wrongfully sanctioned under the law."
Suddenly sensing danger, he urged, "You can't be seen with me. Come, this way." He led them out of the open and into a sheltering grove of trees. "Are you ready?" he asked.
"Don't we need a witness?" asked Walter.
As if on cue, a figure stepped through the foliage.
"Nightwatchman!" Bette cried. Of course, Marian remained silent.
So, she had come to the picnic after all! Robin was more pleased than he had been in many a day.
"Here's your witnesss! Well met, my friend!" Robin grinned and threw Marian a wink, and she scowled back at him behind her mask and scarf. With her face so well hidden, he completely missed her look of scorn.
"Guess who's finally getting married," Robin announced. "How long have you two been sweethearts? I remember one May Day years ago making somebody jealous when I got a little overzealous kissing you," he reminded Bette, but his words were really aimed affectionately at Marian.
"That was me," Walter said, "when you claimed a kiss from Bette when she was May Queen, for winning the archery competition."
"Didn't I win it twice that day?"
"You did," Bette giggled, "so you could claim two kisses."
"I was a bit of a rake," Robin admitted, smiling sheepishly.
Bette disagreed. "You were a sweet lad." All of them felt better, even Marian, as they reminisced about bygone days in Locksley so innocently filled with peace, joy, hope, and prosperity.
"Well, rake or not, I have a wedding to perform. Shall we?"
Marian never could take Robin seriously when he officiated at marriage ceremonies. All the same, she was touched to be present for the exchanging of vows between these longtime lovers. She had arrived in Locksley tonight after Robin, and was unaware of Gisbourne's lustful designs upon the bride.
As for Robin, he was delighted to be able to unite this couple from his village who had been together so many years. Privately, he gloated to think of Gisbourne alone in his room, waiting for his guards to bring Bette to him, and the rage and disappointment that would follow when the guards returned empty handed.
After the vows had been exchanged, and Robin had pronounced them "man and wife," and the groom had sealed the union by kissing the bride, Robin advised the newlyweds, "Now, you haven't seen us. If anyone asks, you were married at Roche Abbey. God bless you both, and godspeed." Bow in hand, he ran toward the hill, with Marian at his heels.
Alone on the hilltop at last, Marian removed her mask and scarf and stared hard at Robin. Her intense gaze made him nervous, but he hid his discomfort behind a breezy cheerfulness he did not feel.
In truth, though he was relieved to have rescued Bette, a strange melancholy settled over him now that the ceremony was over.
Gisbourne terrorizing his people. And yet, longtime sweethearts united as man and wife. Robin envied them their union with all his heart.
"Well," he began, "a good night's work, I think."
Still she did not speak, but continued to study him. What could she be thinking? She felt miles distant. A deep sigh escaped his lips.
She was someone fresh and pure and lovely...someone alien to the turbulent war torn world he had known the last five years. She was the springtime freshness of his past, and yet, also so much more now. She had been tested in the fire of present day Nottinghamshire, and had emerged stronger, brighter, purer still, like some rare diamond. He felt overwhelmed, but when he spoke, his words and voice sounded ordinary.
"Thank you for coming, Marian. I didn't expect to see you as the Nightwatchman, but I suppose it's easier for you to sneak away like that."
At last she spoke, but her words were not the ones Robin expected to hear. "I didn't come for your picnic. I'm dressed this way because I was out trying to help others."
Something vulnerable appeared on his face, twisting the pieces of her heart. He stared back at her unsmiling, but not unkindly. "Good," he approved honestly. "Just be careful, alright?"
Now it was her turn to breathe a sigh. "Robin, why did they ask you to marry them? Did Gisbourne want too much?"
He uttered a scornful laugh. "You might say that."
She lifted her brows, still unaware of Gisbourne's designs on the bride. She knew she should go, but she couldn't leave him with that unhappy look under his smile. Dropping the subject, she hesitantly offered, "But, since I am here, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to eat just a little."
His face lit up. "I suppose it wouldn't!" Removing his cloak, he spread it on the ground. "Would you care to sit, Marian?" He extended his hand to help her down. Her touch shot a jolt straight through him.
She watched as he brought her a parcel of food Much had packed. She had to admit, his nervousness and guarded excitement were endearing. She could tell he really wanted to please her, which in itself was pleasing.
"Let's see what we have here," he said, opening the parcel after dropping to his knees beside her. He sniffed the meat, his nose wrinkling in displeasure.
"Hmm," he wondered. "Much told me he packed chicken."
"I'd like some, please," Marian requested politely.
Her nose wrinkled, too, but she tore off a small piece and took a bite. Nearly choking, she asked, "Robin, what is this?"
He was alarmed. What had Much done now?
"I don't know, Marian." He tasted it himself. It was closer to rabbit than chicken, but not nearly so good. In fact, it was horrible.
"I hope you're not too hungry," he apologized.
She began to laugh. "I'm sure it's perfectly good meat...I shouldn't turn up my nose, but I already had dinner. Maybe we could talk instead?"
She looked enchantingly lovely in the moonlight. A sense of overwhelming happiness began to flow through Robin.
"I'd like that," he smiled, but he couldn't think of a thing to say.
Marian was amused by his silence. It was so unlike him to appear vulnerable.
"So," she began, "do you often come here? I'd think you'd stay away from Locksley whenever Gisbourne's home."
"It's not his home."
There was a silence. Her choice of words had apparently stung. "Of course it isn't," she apologized. After another uncomfortable silence, she asked, "Robin, what will happen when the King returns?"
His eyes glowed in the moonlight. "There will be justice again."
"Will he restore what is yours?"
"I'm sure of it. I'll put an end to my people's suffering."
His face was grim. Something must have happened in his village to upset him, or maybe he was just thinking of the regular state of things in Locksley. And Nettlesone. And Clun. For that matter, Nottingham was no better.
"You're making a difference, you know, Robin."
He appreciated her encouragement more than he could say. "With the help of my men. And you."
The air hung heavy with their thoughts and concerns. This was unlike the romantic and carefree picnics of their pasts. This wasn't what he had had in mind when he had invited her. Yet it was strangely satisfying. He felt his strength, his resolve renewed, knowing they were on the same side.
With another sigh, he lay back on his cloak. Bending his arm and resting his head upon it, he gazed up at the heavens. "I missed that sky," he breathed.
She remained sitting upright. "Pardon?"
"Those stars, in that alignment. The night sky's different in the Holy Land."
"It changes here as the seasons change. Besides, I thought you liked fresh sights."
"I'm more constant than you know."
His meaning was clear, and now, it was her turn to be speechless. She felt uncomfortable, unhappy at the distance between them.
"I'd better head home," she said, rising.
He jumped up, and sadly nodded his head. "You do forgive me, Marian?" he asked, his eyes imploring hers for forgiveness.
She knew he meant more than what he had done at the stream. She searched her heart.
"I forgive you," she answered honestly, "but things can never be as they were. Goodnight, Robin."
She left him standing alone on the hilltop, as sad as he had ever been in his life. Before long, however, his enduring optimism and sense of hope returned.
"I wouldn't count on it if I were you," he whispered in the direction she had gone. "You forget, I never give up."
With a determined smile, he turned and sprinted back toward the forest.