The Wayward One
(First time posting to this community - hi!)
Title: The Wayward One (Prologue and Chapter One)
Author: glorious_clio
Rating: PG13
Warnings: none; pre-series
Summary: Marian stays behind after Robin abruptly breaks their engagement and goes off to the Holy Land. What happens to those left behind? This is not a romance.
Characters: Marian, mentions of Robin, OC's
Disclaimer: I do not hold any ownership over the BBC's version of Robin Hood.
Quick Author's Note (indulge me): In creating the timeline for plotting purposes, I realized that King Richard was crowned King of England in 1189, then he left on his crusade (which ended in 1192, the year Robin returns home). So Robin could not have been gone for five years. *sigh* SO. In light of this, I have decided to make Robin gone for only three years, which is historically accurate, but the story ends when Robin comes home, and canon takes over. This is cross-posted over at ff.net.
I hope you enjoy it!
Prologue
Every time I think of you
I always catch my breath
And I’m still standing here
And you’re miles away
And I'm wondering why you left
And there’s a storm that’s raging
Through my frozen heart tonight
o0O0o
Marian had taken to staring out windows.
She would never admit to this, of course, in the same vein that she hated to admit to weaknesses. And she would consider window-gazing a weakness, because she could not tell you who or what or why she was looking in the first place. But people whispered about her, all the time, causing Marian to keep herself cooped up in her house in Knighton, so as not to hear them. (But she could not keep herself from looking).
She was too angry for dreaming at windows, too angry to fantasize about what might have been. And she was furious.
But Marian was also very, very tired (possibly because being furious is exhausting work), and she might as well be wearing black for her soon-to-be-dead ex-fiance. So window watching it must be.
It was 1189, England had a new King, and that new King Richard, with the Heart of a Lion, has led them all to war, and taken his precious Captain of the Guards, young Robin of Locksley, with him. Marian’s soon-to-be-dead ex-fiance. Is there a word for that? Possibly in one of the many languages that Robin knew.
And if he did not perish in the endless sands of the Holy Land, Marian might well kill him herself.
o0O0o
Chapter One: The Best Mirror is an Old Friend
I hear your name, in certain circles
And it always makes me smile
I spend my time, thinking about you
And it’s almost driving me wild
And there's a heart that’s breaking
Down this long distance line tonight
o0O0o
“Marian, dear girl, you know a watched pot never boils,” Sara, the cook, called out to where Marian was pacing near the door. Kind, jolly Sara, whom Marian took to calling “Sweet Sara” for her gentleness (and her flaky, delicious desserts). Sara had been looking out for Marian, and comforting her, as her nurse might have done (if Sir Edward had not dismissed the nurse, Etheldred, before Marian’s wedding, that never, of course, took place).
“I am not watching pots,” sixteen year old Marian called back. “Aldith will come when she is ready, and when she does, I wish to be here, waiting!”
Marian could hear Sara chuckling from the kitchen. It was nice here, with so few people for company. Father was in Nottingham, and, with Marian so recently jilted and taken to weeping, was content to leave her in Knighton in the protection of Sara the cook and John the ostler. And recently, Aldith was coming to add to her numbers. Aldith’s father, Sir Richard of the Lea, was an old, proud Saxon knight who had served with Marian’s father in the company of Henry II, the new King’s dead father. Aldith was easily Marian’s closest friend, distance notwithstanding. Marian did not easily make friends with other girls; for one thing, they rarely shared the same interests. Marian preferred stories of valor, politics, and fighting practice to embroidery and talking about husbands. Aldith was similar in that; the two grew up together, listening to their fathers talk drunkenly of days of old, of battles and skirmishes long forgotten by everyone else. And Aldith’s mother, lady Diot, was an adoptive mother to Marian. She smoothed Marian’s hair and taught her to be a housewife; spinning, medicines, food preservation an efficient running of the household (Marian had taken up many of these tasks at Knighton Hall).
With Robin and Sir Richard gone to Palestine, both girls were pining for their lost ones. So Marian had convinced Sir Edward to agree to a visit by Aldith.
The sound of horse hooves interrupted her ponderings.
“She is here!” Marian shouted to Sara before dashing outside.
Indeed it was Aldith, escorted by her mother and a young page that they had in their keeping, Noll.
“Greetings, Maid Marian!” called lady Diot from her saddle.
In an instant, Marian was out the door. John the ostler was already steadying lady Diot’s horse, allowing her to dismount. For her part, Aldith had launched out of her saddle and into Marian’s embrace.
“Girls, you know that is not proper etiquette,” lady Diot counseled gently. She had a small smile in her face, so Marian knew that she had the lady’s forgiveness without even having to ask it. Lady Diot should have been allowed to keep more of her children, Marian thought. So many were miscarried, or died in infancy. Aldith was the only one strong enough to live.
“Welcome, lady Diot, and Aldith. Might I offer you and your page some refreshment?” Marian asked in her sweetest housewife voice.
“Just some ale, for the boy and I,” asked lady Diot. “We must be on our way as quickly as we have come.”
“Of course,” said Marian.
“Might I be of assistance?” Aldith offered.
“You might,” Marian teased. She led her guests into her home and offered lady Diot a place to sit before the two girls set off to the kitchen, bringing out two mugs of ale for her friend’s mother and the page, Noll.
They made light conversation, sitting there as friends. Lady Diot was kind and sweet, Noll was witty for one so young, but Marian noticed that everyone avoided any mention of Robin or Sir Richard, or anyone who might be on crusade. For this, Marian was grateful.
Finally, lady Diot made their excuses, and she and Noll left Marian and Aldith to their own devices.
Aldith wasted no time. “Let us go out to the meadow and pick the early autumn flowers. We have much to discuss.”
They pulled on their cloaks, Marian switched her house slippers for her boots, and calling to Sara, they left, slamming the door behind them.
Aldith clasped Marian’s hand and the two left Knighton behind.
They began picking flowers and making long chains of them, a crown for each, necklaces, bracelets, Marian made a ring that she put on her right hand. Aldith saw it and blushed.
“Out with it,” Marian sighed.
“With what?”
“Your observations. On me, and how I am coping without Robin.”
Aldith rolled her eyes. “You were often without Robin growing up. He was training to be a knight. The only differences I detect this time are less jealousy and more anger.”
Marian frowned at the observation. It was true. Before, she would long to go with him, to London or Aquitaine, or where-ever he was going this season. But she had no desire to go to the Holy Land.
“I know I should not be so angry at him, he says, he believes that he is doing the work of the Lord. Everyone thinks that the crusades are a wonderful and just idea. Even your father. I am sorry for you, too, Aldith. It must be so hard without your father. I know I miss him.”
Aldith nodded. “It is hard, especially because he is so old. Mother and I fear.... And besides that, it seems that mother now has to arrange my marriage by herself.”
“What?! When, and to whom?”
Aldith gave Marian a nervous smile. “A good man, Sir David of Doncaster. His father is a wealthy landlord.”
“And Sir David is?”
“He is a tall man, with long dark hair, dark eyes, his skin is mostly fair with a few spots. He is six years older than me, so we are at least close in age. He is kind to children and respectful to my father and to me, and humble before everyone else, even serving men and women.”
Marian let out a low whistle. She lay down in the grass and watched the clouds. Aldith laid down next to her and linked their arms together.
“When do you marry?”
“Next spring. Mother wants me home as long as possible, and they are still working out the dowry and bride price. I have little say in any of this, but Sir David does not seem like a bad match.”
“But not a love match?”
“Marian, I might grow to love him. Love matches are unusual. Not everyone is Robin of Locksley.”
“Pray do not bring him into this,” Marian whispered. “I am reeling, my best friend, married and far away- where is Doncaster, exactly?”
“It is nearer to Lincoln than Nottingham,” Aldith said sadly. “I have not yet been there, but Sir David told me.”
“So I shall see you even less, I fear,” Marian noted.
“I can write, we can write. Oh, Marian, you are my dearest friend. I am closer to you than my own mother.”
“You are my sister,” Marian agreed. She meant that literally; Marian looked up to lady Diot like she was a mother to them both. Gentle lady Diot.
They sighed in unison, then giggled.
“What has your mother told you about... the wedding night?”
“Nothing yet,” said Aldith, blushing. “What do you know of it?”
“Only what Etheldred told me on her last day,” Marian said. She missed her old nurse, who was strict, who loved Marian, who taught her the paternoster and her Aves and who put bread in Marian’s pockets to keep her safe from the faeries. “That it is like horses in the stall at first, it can be rough. But if one’s lover is kind, it becomes... better.”
“Meaning?”
“I could not say. And it seems you will discover it first.”
“I will write and say,” Aldith promised. “How it begins, and how it continues.”
“That would be a scandalous letter, should it be discovered.”
“I do not care,” Aldith told her. “You would have done the same for me.”
“Yes,” agreed Marian. And she would have. Marian and Aldith would still be near neighbors. She would have caught her alone. To tell her. To prepare her.
Oh, but she could kill Robin in that moment, not only for herself, but for Aldith and Aldith’s trepidation.
“Have you... kissed him?” Marian asked.
“Only once.”
“And?”
“It was not what I was expecting. He tasted of ale, and it was very hurried. I fear I bit down on his lip too hard.”
Marian nodded. “It is not all stars and poetry, kissing.”
“Was Robin a good kisser?”
“I daresay he is still a good kisser,” Marian corrected.
“Right. Sorry.”
Marian sighed (again), and cursed him (again) for leaving. She missed his lips.
After a few more moments of aimless conversation, the two friends stood up and made their way back to Knighton for dinner.
Aldith stayed with Marian for a week. They giggled and plotted and talked unceasingly through their chores, their embroidery, and their exploits in Sherwood. Sara left them to it, turning a blind eye when the young ladies took their bows into the woods (knowing any kills would benefit her cooking pot). Their sword play was more secretive; they often snuck out in the dead of night to do that, when Sara and John were sound asleep.
At the end of the week, Marian hated to say goodbye. But it was time to bring the harvests in; they were both needed on their respective manners. Sir Edward came home to help with Knighton villages harvest. Marian was also expected to be in the fields.
The harvest was brought in, thrashed, and made ready for winter. Marian was caught up in a flurry of activity, which did not allow for a relapse into her depression. Until the work was done. But then she tried to remain busy, so as not to dwell on her wayward (ex) lover. She cleaned the manor from attic to cellar, setting every thing to order. Everything. She mended clothing, bringing out warmer things for winter use. She brought out all of her father’s ledgers (from the village and from Nottingham) and made sure all the columns of numbers added up correctly, made sure they were perfectly balanced. She was good at mathematics. Not even Robin could add up numbers as quickly or as accurately as she could. He had been better at languages than her, but she chalked that up to being more traveled than her. Marian knew Latin and French; Robin knew those and Greek and a bit of German. He was probably picking up Arabic as she balanced her father’s ledgers, she could not keep from thinking. Then quickly tried to think of something else.
Luckily, the Advent season was upon them, and she and her father were in Nottingham, where she was playing diplomatic host to Lords and Ladies from all over the Shire. She planned menus, poured wine, and kept querulous men from arguing over their cups. Quite enough to keep her occupied.
And there were other distractions. Aldith, for one.
The two were inseparable; Aldith often helped Marian in her duties, pouring wine and making sure the smaller children were entertained. They rode side by side during the season’s hunts, and huddled together during the tournaments.
David of Doncaster was present for the holiday festivities. He was exactly as Aldith had described, kind hearted and handsome enough. Marian could not help but like him, and hoped her friend would be happy in her marriage.
Christmas Eve, the holiest night of the year, Marian was settling into her bed, and just about to draw the curtains when there was a knock on the door.
“Who is there?” Marian called, feeling for a knife on her bedside table. There was nothing to really fear, but more than one drunk, amorous knight had found their way to her locked door.
“Me,” said lady Aldith.
Marian slid out of bed and into her slippers to open the door for her friend.
Aldith came in with two goblets of mulled wine and some goodies in a bag across her shoulder.
“Feel like a spread?”
“How are you still hungry after tonight’s feast?” Marian marveled.
Aldith shrugged and made her way to the bed. Marian locked the door again and followed, leaving the curtains around the bed open so they could see by the light of the banked fire.
They settled in to their feast of leftovers that Aldith had taken from the kitchens.
“How do you like Sir David?” Aldith asked.
Marian smiled and squeezed her friend’s hand. “He is as you said. Kind and humble. I think you will be happy.”
Aldith smiled back at Marian. “He will be a wonderful father, I think.”
“And you will be a good mother,” Marian assured her.
“Are there any men here who catch your fancy?” Aldith asked seriously.
Marian nibbled on a honey-cake. “No. They are all so pompous and full of themselves.”
“Oh, because Robin of Locksley was never full of himself.”
“He is... self-righteous. Not nearly as tiresome.”
“If you agreed with his convictions. Do you still... like Robin?” Aldith inquired carefully.
“Do not be ridiculous. You know I hate him,” Marian insisted.
“Then you need to learn to hide it better,” Aldith said simply.
“Oh, shut up,” Marian replied, taking a large gulp of her mulled wine.
Aldith laughed.
o0O0o
Title: The Wayward One (Prologue and Chapter One)
Author: glorious_clio
Rating: PG13
Warnings: none; pre-series
Summary: Marian stays behind after Robin abruptly breaks their engagement and goes off to the Holy Land. What happens to those left behind? This is not a romance.
Characters: Marian, mentions of Robin, OC's
Disclaimer: I do not hold any ownership over the BBC's version of Robin Hood.
Quick Author's Note (indulge me): In creating the timeline for plotting purposes, I realized that King Richard was crowned King of England in 1189, then he left on his crusade (which ended in 1192, the year Robin returns home). So Robin could not have been gone for five years. *sigh* SO. In light of this, I have decided to make Robin gone for only three years, which is historically accurate, but the story ends when Robin comes home, and canon takes over. This is cross-posted over at ff.net.
I hope you enjoy it!
Prologue
Every time I think of you
I always catch my breath
And I’m still standing here
And you’re miles away
And I'm wondering why you left
And there’s a storm that’s raging
Through my frozen heart tonight
o0O0o
Marian had taken to staring out windows.
She would never admit to this, of course, in the same vein that she hated to admit to weaknesses. And she would consider window-gazing a weakness, because she could not tell you who or what or why she was looking in the first place. But people whispered about her, all the time, causing Marian to keep herself cooped up in her house in Knighton, so as not to hear them. (But she could not keep herself from looking).
She was too angry for dreaming at windows, too angry to fantasize about what might have been. And she was furious.
But Marian was also very, very tired (possibly because being furious is exhausting work), and she might as well be wearing black for her soon-to-be-dead ex-fiance. So window watching it must be.
It was 1189, England had a new King, and that new King Richard, with the Heart of a Lion, has led them all to war, and taken his precious Captain of the Guards, young Robin of Locksley, with him. Marian’s soon-to-be-dead ex-fiance. Is there a word for that? Possibly in one of the many languages that Robin knew.
And if he did not perish in the endless sands of the Holy Land, Marian might well kill him herself.
o0O0o
Chapter One: The Best Mirror is an Old Friend
I hear your name, in certain circles
And it always makes me smile
I spend my time, thinking about you
And it’s almost driving me wild
And there's a heart that’s breaking
Down this long distance line tonight
o0O0o
“Marian, dear girl, you know a watched pot never boils,” Sara, the cook, called out to where Marian was pacing near the door. Kind, jolly Sara, whom Marian took to calling “Sweet Sara” for her gentleness (and her flaky, delicious desserts). Sara had been looking out for Marian, and comforting her, as her nurse might have done (if Sir Edward had not dismissed the nurse, Etheldred, before Marian’s wedding, that never, of course, took place).
“I am not watching pots,” sixteen year old Marian called back. “Aldith will come when she is ready, and when she does, I wish to be here, waiting!”
Marian could hear Sara chuckling from the kitchen. It was nice here, with so few people for company. Father was in Nottingham, and, with Marian so recently jilted and taken to weeping, was content to leave her in Knighton in the protection of Sara the cook and John the ostler. And recently, Aldith was coming to add to her numbers. Aldith’s father, Sir Richard of the Lea, was an old, proud Saxon knight who had served with Marian’s father in the company of Henry II, the new King’s dead father. Aldith was easily Marian’s closest friend, distance notwithstanding. Marian did not easily make friends with other girls; for one thing, they rarely shared the same interests. Marian preferred stories of valor, politics, and fighting practice to embroidery and talking about husbands. Aldith was similar in that; the two grew up together, listening to their fathers talk drunkenly of days of old, of battles and skirmishes long forgotten by everyone else. And Aldith’s mother, lady Diot, was an adoptive mother to Marian. She smoothed Marian’s hair and taught her to be a housewife; spinning, medicines, food preservation an efficient running of the household (Marian had taken up many of these tasks at Knighton Hall).
With Robin and Sir Richard gone to Palestine, both girls were pining for their lost ones. So Marian had convinced Sir Edward to agree to a visit by Aldith.
The sound of horse hooves interrupted her ponderings.
“She is here!” Marian shouted to Sara before dashing outside.
Indeed it was Aldith, escorted by her mother and a young page that they had in their keeping, Noll.
“Greetings, Maid Marian!” called lady Diot from her saddle.
In an instant, Marian was out the door. John the ostler was already steadying lady Diot’s horse, allowing her to dismount. For her part, Aldith had launched out of her saddle and into Marian’s embrace.
“Girls, you know that is not proper etiquette,” lady Diot counseled gently. She had a small smile in her face, so Marian knew that she had the lady’s forgiveness without even having to ask it. Lady Diot should have been allowed to keep more of her children, Marian thought. So many were miscarried, or died in infancy. Aldith was the only one strong enough to live.
“Welcome, lady Diot, and Aldith. Might I offer you and your page some refreshment?” Marian asked in her sweetest housewife voice.
“Just some ale, for the boy and I,” asked lady Diot. “We must be on our way as quickly as we have come.”
“Of course,” said Marian.
“Might I be of assistance?” Aldith offered.
“You might,” Marian teased. She led her guests into her home and offered lady Diot a place to sit before the two girls set off to the kitchen, bringing out two mugs of ale for her friend’s mother and the page, Noll.
They made light conversation, sitting there as friends. Lady Diot was kind and sweet, Noll was witty for one so young, but Marian noticed that everyone avoided any mention of Robin or Sir Richard, or anyone who might be on crusade. For this, Marian was grateful.
Finally, lady Diot made their excuses, and she and Noll left Marian and Aldith to their own devices.
Aldith wasted no time. “Let us go out to the meadow and pick the early autumn flowers. We have much to discuss.”
They pulled on their cloaks, Marian switched her house slippers for her boots, and calling to Sara, they left, slamming the door behind them.
Aldith clasped Marian’s hand and the two left Knighton behind.
They began picking flowers and making long chains of them, a crown for each, necklaces, bracelets, Marian made a ring that she put on her right hand. Aldith saw it and blushed.
“Out with it,” Marian sighed.
“With what?”
“Your observations. On me, and how I am coping without Robin.”
Aldith rolled her eyes. “You were often without Robin growing up. He was training to be a knight. The only differences I detect this time are less jealousy and more anger.”
Marian frowned at the observation. It was true. Before, she would long to go with him, to London or Aquitaine, or where-ever he was going this season. But she had no desire to go to the Holy Land.
“I know I should not be so angry at him, he says, he believes that he is doing the work of the Lord. Everyone thinks that the crusades are a wonderful and just idea. Even your father. I am sorry for you, too, Aldith. It must be so hard without your father. I know I miss him.”
Aldith nodded. “It is hard, especially because he is so old. Mother and I fear.... And besides that, it seems that mother now has to arrange my marriage by herself.”
“What?! When, and to whom?”
Aldith gave Marian a nervous smile. “A good man, Sir David of Doncaster. His father is a wealthy landlord.”
“And Sir David is?”
“He is a tall man, with long dark hair, dark eyes, his skin is mostly fair with a few spots. He is six years older than me, so we are at least close in age. He is kind to children and respectful to my father and to me, and humble before everyone else, even serving men and women.”
Marian let out a low whistle. She lay down in the grass and watched the clouds. Aldith laid down next to her and linked their arms together.
“When do you marry?”
“Next spring. Mother wants me home as long as possible, and they are still working out the dowry and bride price. I have little say in any of this, but Sir David does not seem like a bad match.”
“But not a love match?”
“Marian, I might grow to love him. Love matches are unusual. Not everyone is Robin of Locksley.”
“Pray do not bring him into this,” Marian whispered. “I am reeling, my best friend, married and far away- where is Doncaster, exactly?”
“It is nearer to Lincoln than Nottingham,” Aldith said sadly. “I have not yet been there, but Sir David told me.”
“So I shall see you even less, I fear,” Marian noted.
“I can write, we can write. Oh, Marian, you are my dearest friend. I am closer to you than my own mother.”
“You are my sister,” Marian agreed. She meant that literally; Marian looked up to lady Diot like she was a mother to them both. Gentle lady Diot.
They sighed in unison, then giggled.
“What has your mother told you about... the wedding night?”
“Nothing yet,” said Aldith, blushing. “What do you know of it?”
“Only what Etheldred told me on her last day,” Marian said. She missed her old nurse, who was strict, who loved Marian, who taught her the paternoster and her Aves and who put bread in Marian’s pockets to keep her safe from the faeries. “That it is like horses in the stall at first, it can be rough. But if one’s lover is kind, it becomes... better.”
“Meaning?”
“I could not say. And it seems you will discover it first.”
“I will write and say,” Aldith promised. “How it begins, and how it continues.”
“That would be a scandalous letter, should it be discovered.”
“I do not care,” Aldith told her. “You would have done the same for me.”
“Yes,” agreed Marian. And she would have. Marian and Aldith would still be near neighbors. She would have caught her alone. To tell her. To prepare her.
Oh, but she could kill Robin in that moment, not only for herself, but for Aldith and Aldith’s trepidation.
“Have you... kissed him?” Marian asked.
“Only once.”
“And?”
“It was not what I was expecting. He tasted of ale, and it was very hurried. I fear I bit down on his lip too hard.”
Marian nodded. “It is not all stars and poetry, kissing.”
“Was Robin a good kisser?”
“I daresay he is still a good kisser,” Marian corrected.
“Right. Sorry.”
Marian sighed (again), and cursed him (again) for leaving. She missed his lips.
After a few more moments of aimless conversation, the two friends stood up and made their way back to Knighton for dinner.
Aldith stayed with Marian for a week. They giggled and plotted and talked unceasingly through their chores, their embroidery, and their exploits in Sherwood. Sara left them to it, turning a blind eye when the young ladies took their bows into the woods (knowing any kills would benefit her cooking pot). Their sword play was more secretive; they often snuck out in the dead of night to do that, when Sara and John were sound asleep.
At the end of the week, Marian hated to say goodbye. But it was time to bring the harvests in; they were both needed on their respective manners. Sir Edward came home to help with Knighton villages harvest. Marian was also expected to be in the fields.
The harvest was brought in, thrashed, and made ready for winter. Marian was caught up in a flurry of activity, which did not allow for a relapse into her depression. Until the work was done. But then she tried to remain busy, so as not to dwell on her wayward (ex) lover. She cleaned the manor from attic to cellar, setting every thing to order. Everything. She mended clothing, bringing out warmer things for winter use. She brought out all of her father’s ledgers (from the village and from Nottingham) and made sure all the columns of numbers added up correctly, made sure they were perfectly balanced. She was good at mathematics. Not even Robin could add up numbers as quickly or as accurately as she could. He had been better at languages than her, but she chalked that up to being more traveled than her. Marian knew Latin and French; Robin knew those and Greek and a bit of German. He was probably picking up Arabic as she balanced her father’s ledgers, she could not keep from thinking. Then quickly tried to think of something else.
Luckily, the Advent season was upon them, and she and her father were in Nottingham, where she was playing diplomatic host to Lords and Ladies from all over the Shire. She planned menus, poured wine, and kept querulous men from arguing over their cups. Quite enough to keep her occupied.
And there were other distractions. Aldith, for one.
The two were inseparable; Aldith often helped Marian in her duties, pouring wine and making sure the smaller children were entertained. They rode side by side during the season’s hunts, and huddled together during the tournaments.
David of Doncaster was present for the holiday festivities. He was exactly as Aldith had described, kind hearted and handsome enough. Marian could not help but like him, and hoped her friend would be happy in her marriage.
Christmas Eve, the holiest night of the year, Marian was settling into her bed, and just about to draw the curtains when there was a knock on the door.
“Who is there?” Marian called, feeling for a knife on her bedside table. There was nothing to really fear, but more than one drunk, amorous knight had found their way to her locked door.
“Me,” said lady Aldith.
Marian slid out of bed and into her slippers to open the door for her friend.
Aldith came in with two goblets of mulled wine and some goodies in a bag across her shoulder.
“Feel like a spread?”
“How are you still hungry after tonight’s feast?” Marian marveled.
Aldith shrugged and made her way to the bed. Marian locked the door again and followed, leaving the curtains around the bed open so they could see by the light of the banked fire.
They settled in to their feast of leftovers that Aldith had taken from the kitchens.
“How do you like Sir David?” Aldith asked.
Marian smiled and squeezed her friend’s hand. “He is as you said. Kind and humble. I think you will be happy.”
Aldith smiled back at Marian. “He will be a wonderful father, I think.”
“And you will be a good mother,” Marian assured her.
“Are there any men here who catch your fancy?” Aldith asked seriously.
Marian nibbled on a honey-cake. “No. They are all so pompous and full of themselves.”
“Oh, because Robin of Locksley was never full of himself.”
“He is... self-righteous. Not nearly as tiresome.”
“If you agreed with his convictions. Do you still... like Robin?” Aldith inquired carefully.
“Do not be ridiculous. You know I hate him,” Marian insisted.
“Then you need to learn to hide it better,” Aldith said simply.
“Oh, shut up,” Marian replied, taking a large gulp of her mulled wine.
Aldith laughed.
o0O0o