With the women revived, though still shaken, Robin couldn't ignore the fleas making him itch any longer.
"Does anyone know if we still have the soap Marian threw at my head?" he asked, remembering the time he had infuriated Marian so badly she had beaned him in the nose with a cake of soap while he was bathing in the stream.
"I used the last of it awhile ago," Djaq apologized.
Robin shifted his hips, fighting back the urge to scratch. He needed to wash away the fleas, and water alone would not do the trick.
"Right," he said, thinking. "Djaq, you've not been to Nottingham today. I've got a job for you."
"Yes, Robin?"
"I need you to make a few stops for me. See whether Timothy the cobbler can whip up two pair of boots for our new guests. Find some clothes for Maggie. And," he emphasized, "track down Marian and see if she'll give us any soap."
"I'll go, too, Robin," Will volunteered. "It's safer with two of us."
Robin nodded in agreement. "Thank you. Take the horse, but walk back, unless you have to ride for safety's sake. Can you ride pillion behind Will?" he asked Djaq.
The Saracen nodded her pretty head, and Maggie's sharp eyes noticed how embarrassed yet pleased both Djaq and Will seemed.
"That innit no boy," she said again.
...
Marian, shopping in Nottingham's marketplace, nearly dropped her basket of purchases when a hooded Will Scarlet and the Saracen boy from Robin's gang stepped into her path.
"Will!" Marian exclaimed. Her heart stopped beating, and she asked, "Is Robin alright? He wasn't recaptured, was he?"
"He's fine. He asks if you can give us soap."
"Soap?" Marian rolled her eyes. "And what particular scent does Lady Cecily require?"
"Robin didn't say. We need to go. Do you have any?"
"Go," Marian cautioned, noticing what Will had seen. Two guards were staring curiously at the unlikely trio. "I'll take the soap to him myself."
"Thank you!"
Marian satisfied the guards' curiosity by giving "alms" to the two hooded "beggars."
"Bless you," Will and Djaq mumbled, convincing the guards there was nothing suspicious after all, then shuffling away to find Timothy the cobbler.
"I brought you soap once before, Robin of Locksley," Marian thought to herself, remembering with satisfaction his wounded expression when she had hit his face with it. "My aim's just as good now as it was then."
Pleased with the thought, she hurried from the marketplace to find the biggest, hardest cake of soap she could find.
...
Marian trusted Robin hadn't moved his camp since she had been a "prisoner" there, and she was correct.
Reining Vesper and dismounting, she greeted Much fondly, and Little John and Allan a Dale with more reserve, not yet knowing them well. Her eyes widened at the sight of flame haired Maggie, wrapped like a cased sausage in Robin's cape.
"I could have brought you clothes," Marian said, feeling sorry for the young woman. "Instead, he asked for soap! Where is he, anyway?" She saw neither Robin, nor Lady Cecily.
"Robin couldn't wait," Much told her. "He's washing, at the stream."
Marian paused, taking in the information. A sense of dread began to overtake her.
"And where's Lady Cecily? I can't imagine her wandering off alone in the forest."
For the first time, the outlaws realized Her High and Mightiness, as Allan had dubbed her, was missing. They looked at one another, wondering where Her Ladyship had traipsed away.
"I know where she is," Maggie spoke up. "Her High and Mightiness took her uppity snot nosed face to the stream, to spy on Robin washin' himself. What do you think of that? Looks down her rich nose at me, then can't wait to spy on a naked man! Allan, won't we have fun tellin' her secret to her face when she gets back! Who's the real harlot here, I wanna know?"
Allan laughed along with Maggie. Much sputtered "unbelievables" in shock and outrage. Little John continued skinning dead squirrel. But Marian took herself off on jealous feet to the stream.
"Oh, no you don't, Cecily," Marian silently fumed. "I have a feeling my aim might fail, and this soap could slip and hit your perfect, aristocratic nose by mistake!"