Robin took his place at the head of the table, nimbly dodging Gisbourne's attempt to seize him.
"Now," he said, "if you ladies would be so kind, I invite you to take your places on either side of me. Gisbourne, why don't you sit far down there at the other end, or better still, in the servant's quarters."
Guy of Gisbourne could stand no more of Hood's lip. With a roar, he charged the outlaw, but stopped in his tracks when Robin casually drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it to his bow.
"Really?" Robin scoffed, in scornful disbelief. "Is that any way to treat your guest? Or should I say, 'your host?' Someone really needs to teach you some manners, Gisbourne."
Robin's verbal barb hit its target. Nothing he could have said could have enraged Gisbourne more than that insult to his breeding, for Gisbourne felt woefully inadequate at social graces, especially in the presence of Lady Marian.
Force was what he knew, and force was the way he would dispose of that smirking pup now!
"Put down your weapon, Hood," he sneered.
"Very well, if that's the way you want this game to be played."
Robin's smirking mannner was replaced by vicious hatred toward his enemy. He welcomed the fight.
"Stop!" Marian ordered. "You may go, Hood," she said, finding her voice weaker than she would like for it to sound. But it gained strength as she continued upbraiding him. "I'm sure you will take your prize along with you. You're gathering quite a collection of women to keep you company in the forest. Is it something you brought back with you from the Holy Land, besides your unusual weapons? Stories abound of Saracen practices of keeping harems."
"But, Marian," Robin replied, "this charming lady belongs to Sir Guy! It wouldn't be right for me to deprive him of her company! Isn't that right, Gisbourne?"
The strumpet, still drunk from last night's revels, swayed on her feet, bleary eyed, unaware of what was taking place in her presence. But Gisbourne roared at Hood again.
"Are you so big a coward that you will not fight me?" he bellowed.
"I welcome a fight," Robin sneered in return. Turning taunting again, he continued, "But I'm not so ungentlemanly that I would deprive Lady Marian of her breakfast date with you! After all, she took so much trouble to rise early and dress so carefully! And her hair! It must have taken hours to fashion that charming coiffure!"
"Grow up," Marian hissed.
Robin snickered mockingly at her.
"We eat together first," Robin ordered. "After that, I'll fight you, Gisbourne. Those are my terms."
"I do not eat with outlaws!" Gisbourne shouted.
"Very well, then. My men and I will just have to take you with us to the forest, and we can break our fast together there. Or, we can remain here, and eat. So, Gisbourne, what's it going to be?"
Gisbourne heaved out a furious breath, then sat at the table. "Very well, Hood," he said, "but we fight afterwards."
"Naturally!" Robin seemed all smiles again. "Glad you agree! But don't you know it's rude to sit in the presence of ladies?"
Gisbourne leaped to his feet, furious.
Marian took a place next to Guy, then shot Robin a furious look.
"So, Marian, I see you've made your choice," Robin sneered, his heart nearly failing him in his breast. "Very well, then! It seems my partner will be...what's you're name, milady?" he kindly asked the strumpet.
She belched, loudly, then answered, "I'm called Swete. Who the hell are you?"
Robin laughed. "Swete!" he answered, with inflated gallantry. "How very aptly sweet you are named! Shall we breakfast together, my sweet?"
"I should go," Marian said, rising, having seen enough. "Like you, Guy," she said, dropping his title for the first time, "I have no desire to eat, or do anything, with scurvy outlaws!"
Her eyes met and held Robin's furious gaze, neither willing to back down.
Gisbourne watched them with a mixture of satisfaction, and nagging worry. What exactly was going on between them? Hatred, or something quite the opposite?