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Love is in the greenwood, dawn is in the skies,
And Marian is waiting with a glory in her eyes.
- Sherwood, Alfred Noyce
King’s Camp, Acre
Marian wore flowers in her hair the day she married Robin Hood in the Holy Land; small blossoms that gleamed pure white under the eastern sun. She didn’t know exactly where Much and Djaq had found them, but they’d disappeared just after dawn and returned with a handful of the blooms from a species she didn’t recognise. Djaq had helped her arrange them in her hair while Much sobbed and claimed sand had blown into his eyes.
By the end of the day she was married; had stood before the King, his Crusaders, Robin’s Outlaws and said her vows. Celebration overtook Richard’s entire camp that night - the wine seemed to appear from nowhere and in unlimited supply. Only Djaq did not partake and Will refused as well at first, until she told him firmly that the best way to respect her faith was not to pay it lip service. Allan and Much drank together and insulted each other in that way they had between them, but by the end of the night were singing and laughing together. Marian wondered if they understood each other at last, or at least had found some common ground, with her and Robin married and Will and Djaq making their intention to stay in Acre known. Little John drank cautiously and talked somberly with the older Crusaders, glad to have a conversation with someone his own age for once, to share his disapproval for such frivolity with. Carter sat by himself and drank steadily. For a while Marian watched him in silence until Robin came to sit beside her.
“I think I’ll ask him to return with us,” Robin told her quietly as he followed her gaze to where Carter sat. “It’s difficult,” he continued, his face troubled. “To have to kill when you’ve decided not to.”
“He saved the King – saved all of us.” Marian answered softly, and took Robin’s hand. She regretted Gisborne’s death, had felt pity to see Carter run him through with cold steel, even a little ashamed standing above him as he died, disbelief and sorrow in his eyes as he had seen her, truly, for the first time. At Robin’s side.
At least in the end it had been quick, and a part of her was grateful that it had been Carter who had finished it, not Robin – not her husband who would have to live with the guilt. His dreams were troubled enough.
But it was no dream that night – it was real, the sand between her toes, the laughter in her ears and the anticipation beginning to form in the pit of her belly. Marian took Robin’s hand and led him away from the crowd, to the small tent Richard had ordered cleared out for them. The moment they are inside Robin’s hands were on her face, his calloused fingers tracing her cheekbones, her jawline, and finally, her lips.
“We could have died today,” he said softly, his fingers moving down her neck, over her shoulders and then across her back.
She shivered and pressed herself closer to him. “But we didn’t,” she reminded him.
“No. And we are married.” There was a wonder in his voice, almost disbelief. “It’s no longer improper to do this…” he pulled her tight against him, and she could feel his fingers pressed lightly into the small of her back.
“Or this…” he kissed the hollow of her throat, and Marian arched her neck to give him better access.
“Or this…” his hands ran up the sides of her body, over the small bumps of her ribcage, over the sides of her breasts where he halted momentarily but did not stop, over her shoulders and back to the top of her spine, to the ties of her dress. Marian turned around and lifted her hair away to allow him to undo the laces. She shivered again, even though the air that hit her bare skin was dry and hot. Robin kissed her shoulder and pushed the sleeves of her dress down her arms, Marian helped him, and the outer layer of the garment fell to the floor.
Marian leant back against him as Robin’s arms went around her. His fingers were rough, but thankfully clean (she had insisted on that) and she closed her eyes as they brushed against the skin of her belly. It took her several moments to realise he was holding his breath. She turned around boldly to meet his eyes, which were veiled heavily.
“You’re not nervous are you?” she asked with disbelief.
“No,” Robin replied quickly, but there was a hitch in his voice he could not conceal.
Marian gave him a teasing smile – his sudden bashfulness new to her. “It’s not as if you haven’t-”
“I know,” he cut her off, face flushing ever so slightly. “Just…never with a wife, before. Well, my wife, anyway…”
Marian gave him a sharp look. “There are certain things your wife does not need to know about your scandalous past,” she told him, and lightly smacked his shoulder.
“Well, this is different,” Robin explained seriously.
“I am still the same person I was a few hours ago,” Marian drew close to him and put her arms around his neck. “I am still the same person who willingly followed you to that place by the river in Sherwood, so no one could find us.”
Robin looked smug at the memory. “True, but…”
“There is no difference between the woman who loved you in the forest and the wife that loves you now.” A mischievous smile crossed her face. “Except that your wife will allow you to do more to her.”
He kissed her in response, hard, his arms going around her, long fingers sprayed across the bare skin of her back. She deepened the kiss, letting out a muffled moan as the warm pressure of his tongue pressed against her own. Her hands grasped his hair where it curled at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. His lips travelled down her jaw, placing scorching kisses on her skin and began to examine the place where her neck met her shoulder. She could feel the scratchiness of his beard but it was not unpleasant, instead adding to the intensity of the feelings coursing through her.
Marian ran her hands down his back to his hips, trying to find the easiest way to untuck his shirt from his trousers. Robin looked up at her with a cunning smile. He stood up straight and released her, arms hanging still at his sides so she could remove the garment more easily, but making no effort to assist her. She briefly considered walking away and leaving him alone with his smugness, but the desire to see his bare skin overpowered that thought.
Now with unimpeded vision, Marian pulled Robin’s shirt free from his belt and yanked it skyward. Robin obligingly raised his arms and finally, did help her drag the cloth over his head and toss it aside.
His eyes gleamed as he pulled her to him once again, and this time Marian gasped at the feeling of his bare skin against her own. Later, she would remember to trace the scars that lined his torso, to kiss every one and make him tell her their origins but for now she didn’t want to explore. Robin seemed to sense her urgency and pulled her back towards the bunk that had been prepared for them, removing the rest of her dress as he went. Then he pressed her down onto the coarse sheets, his welcome weight covering her immediately.
But then Robin stopped kissing her and seemed preoccupied with something else. “Oh, dear.”
“What?” Marian asked impatiently. She was beginning to feel unbearably hot, and she wasn’t entirely sure it had to do with the searing desert air but more to do with the body that was so intimately pressed against her own.
Robin lifted her slightly, and pulled something from underneath her shoulder. It was one of the flowers Much and Djaq had found, but not one of the blossoms from her hair.
“It seems someone went to a good deal of trouble to put all these here,” Robin said, and Marian followed his gaze around to where dozens of the blooms were scattered across the makeshift marriage bed. “And you, my love, have squashed them,” he continued. “Shame, really, they are beautiful.”
Marian looked at him disbelievingly. After years of chasing after her, worrying for her, fighting for her, they were finally married and about to consummate it…and he was concerned about flowers?
“You should be telling me I’m beautiful,” she told him, a little irritated.
“You know I think you’re beautiful,” he said, his attention back on her. “You’re beautiful,” he declared and kissed her lips. “..and charming,” he kissed her clavicle, “…and exquisite,” he kissed the place between her breasts, “…and fierce,” he kissed her bellybutton.
“Fierce?” she asked, her voice growing breathy as his hand skirted up her calf.
“Mmmm,” Robin murmured in reply, mouth occupied with the skin of her belly before moving further downward as his hand hasted its journey up her leg.
Then neither he nor she could say more, and Marian pressed herself back into the rough material of the blankets which mimicked the scratchiness of his beard against her inner thigh. She gasped and called his name until she could take no more, and pulled him back up the bed, urging him to stop teasing and just finish what he started.
He obliged eagerly, and while there was pain, it was dulled by the exquisite beauty of unity she felt with him at that moment. He buried his face in her neck and whispered unintelligible things and Marian felt him everywhere, setting her nerve endings on fire as she ran her hands over his sides, his back, through his hair, wanting to feel every part of him that she had been denied before.
At the moment of culmination, she could barely feel anything but the utter bliss of it all, and yet somehow, as he called out her name and held her more tightly that he had ever done, she felt an overwhelming sense of relief…and hope.
Outlaw’s Camp, Sherwood Forest
Marian did not venture far from the camp to find solitude, but far enough away so she could no longer smell the offensive eggs and salted meat Carter had been eating for breakfast. Yet still her stomach did not obey her commands to be still, and she retched in the foliage until she was spent.
Much found her eventually, and it did not take him long to notice her whitish pallor, the sweat that dotted her brow, her slumped shoulders and her hands that cradled her head.
“Marian?” he asked, “Are you ill?”
“No,” she answered without lifting her head. “Go away.”
But he sat down beside her, thankfully, on the opposite side of the tree from where she had been sick. “I noticed you didn’t eat breakfast,” he said. “Yesterday either…or the day before that,” he added thoughtfully. “And you usually eat even more than I do…so you must be ill.”
“Truly impressive, your powers of observation,” she said dryly.
“No need to snipe.” Much sounded a little hurt. “I would take offensive, but for the fact you are ill -”
“I’m not ill,” Marian raised her head, exasperated. “I think…” she took a deep breath, and steeled herself. She might as well tell Much, she reasoned, as now that Djaq was no longer with them, he served as best he could as physician. “I think I may be…with child.”
“Oh,” Much looked startled. “Oh.” He shot a look to her midsection, then blushed, then flustered some almost-intelligible words of congratulations, while giving her an awkward hug.
If she weren’t so worried, Marian might have found his reaction comical. “You don’t have to pretend to be happy for me if you’re not,” she told him, careful to keep accusation out of her tone.
“I am happy for you,” Much replied a little too quickly. “Just surprised.”
“You know sometimes Much, I get the feeling you don’t like me,” she said, allowing herself a small smile.
“Of course I like you.” Much looked a little affronted. “I love you. I mean, you and Robin have been a little insufferable since we returned from the Holy Land, practically living in each other’s pockets…I almost miss the arguing,” he added wistfully. “It was certainly preferable to all the sickening looks you give each other now – and your ‘walks’ in the forest…” he checked himself, and laughed nervously.
“But I’m happy for you,” he corrected himself.
“I’m not sure I’m happy for myself,” Marian stared at the ground, her brief levity dissipating as the reality of her situation once again sank in.
“What am I going to do with a baby?” she asked him, a little desperately. She ran her hands through her hair and shook her head anxiously. “I don’t know how to be a mother…I can’t be responsible for another life like that.”
“Hush, Marian,” Much whispered soothingly, and placed an arm around her shoulders.
Marian shook him off and rose, pacing the forest floor. “I mean, the only person I can imagine being a worse parent than me is Robin.” She laughed humorlessly. “No,” she corrected herself. “He will be wonderful.”
She remembered the way he had held the baby he had found in the woods, how it had quieted whenever he got near it, how he played with the village children who worshiped him and felt a small stab of resentment that he was so skilled at everything he attempted, while she had worked and struggled for everything she had achieved. It was irrational and unfair to her husband who could not help his luck and natural, God-given abilities. But she still felt it, in that uncharitable section of her heart she tried to keep in check.
Much rose, took three strides towards her and engulfed her in a fierce embrace. He held her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe, but it was comforting all the same. He didn’t speak, or give her any comforts because he was not the right person, nor did he have the right words to say. He just held her which – inexplicably - calmed her down.
“Please don’t tell Robin,” she asked him, her words slightly muffled against his shirt. “Not yet.”
She knew that would be difficult for Much, who had never kept anything of significance from Robin his entire life, but she needed to tell him herself. And she needed time. Much nodded, giving his silent consent, and placed a brotherly kiss to her brow. Whatever their past differences, whatever conflict they had experienced in the past over Robin was gone in that moment and, for the first time, Much was her friend in his own right.
Trip to Jerusalem Inn, Nottingham
They were both in cloaks that concealed their faces and seated in the far corner of the Trip Inn when she decided to tell him.
“Robin,” she spoke quietly, so not to be overheard. It was a pretense, since most of the patrons knew who they were already and would not breathe a word against them, but she was more cautious lately than she had ever been. “I can’t go on the mission tomorrow.” He looked at her curiously – she had never backed out of anything before; usually she insisted on being on the front lines. “I’m not afraid,” she continued, “for myself anyway. The risk is too great…for the child I am carrying.”
It took him a moment to comprehend her words, and when he did, a shadow crossed his face. “Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded. “I saw a physician in Locksley.”
Robin sighed and leaned against the table, the knuckle of his index finger between his teeth in contemplation. “We should have been more careful.”
Marian wasn’t sure how she had expected him to react, but it hadn’t been like that. “Perhaps,” she replied, perplexed. “Our timing is imperfect.”
“It’s not that I don’t want this, Marian,” he said earnestly. He reached for her hand and took it in his own. She noticed it was shaking slightly. “I can’t deny I hadn’t thought about it, when all of this was over and we returned to Locksley. But it is dangerous. You are so strong, Marian...” He took a deep breath and gripped her fingers tightly. “…but my mother was strong, also.”
She hadn’t forgotten that Robin’s mother had died in childbirth, along with his stillborn younger brother. Marian just hadn’t realised he had carried that fear around with him. She squeezed his fingers in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture, but wasn’t sure how to respond to him. She didn’t begrudge him his doubts – she had experienced plenty of her own.
“I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything, Robin,” she told him softly. It was not a reproach, but rather hoped it was an encouragement.
Robin withdrew his hand from hers and ducked his head so that his hood concealed his face. “I’m afraid of everything,” he said so quietly she almost couldn’t hear him above the noisy patrons drinking their ale and laughing inanely.
“I’ve almost lost you twice now,” he continued, and she knew his thoughts drifted back to the cold, dank cave in Sherwood and the hot, unforgiving desert in the Holy Land. “I can’t help but think that this time our luck is going to run out.”
“You’re Robin Hood,” she smiled wryly and tried to be light. “Your luck never runs out.”
“No,” he disagreed, and raised his head, his expression one he had never shown her before – fear etched deeply into his face. “Not Robin Hood, not even Robin of Locksley.”
Marian shifted around the table until she sat beside him, and took his face firmly in her own. “But you are my husband,” she told him firmly. “Robin.”
She kissed the lines in his brow, the ones that had formed over the past few years from hard living and constant, agonising worry. His burdens were etched into his face, in his clenched jaw and tense, pursed lips – so she kissed those, too. Marian had decided long ago to be both his strength and his soft place to fall – she would always be there to watch his back in a fight, and hold him when the nightmares came – to balance ferocity with tenderness. She had come to understand that if she could do that as a wife – she could also do it as a mother.
He kissed her desperately, and she chose to ignore the calls from the pub patrons who noticed them. Her hood fell back to her shoulders and he touched her cheeks, her hair, her sides, until he stopped abruptly at her abdomen. He pulled away, but Marian brought his hands back and covered them with her own.
“I don’t know what this all means,” he said, and finally smiled as he looked at her belly.
Marian laughed. “Neither do I.”
Ripley Convent
Marian watched him lean against the window, arms crossed over his chest and lost in contemplation while she gently handled the flowers he’d brought her.
“These are from Knighton,” she said.
When he turned back to her a smug smile was on his face. “They’re starting to grow again.”
“I wish I could see it,” she said, remembering the wildflowers that swept through the gardens of her former home, before it was burnt to ash. The convent was so dull, and while the Sisters were kind and considerate of her, there was no life to the place.
“You will,” he reassured her.
Marian sighed heavily, and placed the flowers gently down on the bed beside her. “Time travels so slowly,” she told him, “I feel as if I have been like this for years already,” she gestured to her swollen belly that could no longer be concealed by belts and cloaks.
“It’s the safest place until the baby comes,” Robin replied. “And with the news of the King being captured – the Sheriff is making life in the forest harder than ever. It is no place for a child.”
“I know,” Marian answered, a little irritated. “I know all that. I just feel I should be helping you fight him, feeding the poor. Not sitting here being useless.”
In an instant Robin was at her side, taking a seat beside her on the narrow bed. “You are anything but useless,” he told her gently. “This is what we’re doing all of this for – what we’re fighting for,” he pressed a soft hand to the swell of her abdomen.
“You’re keeping the future safe. There is no greater duty than that.”
Marian forced herself to smile. “I would much rather fight the traditional way,” she told him. “A sword, I can handle. This is much more complicated.”
“I know,” he looked at her adorningly. He picked up a few of the flowers from the bouquet he’d brought, tore off the excess stems, before placing them gently in her hair. “That’s why I love you.”
“One of the reasons.” She poked him playfully in the side.
“Yes, of course – there are hundreds more,” he grinned and pressed his lips to hers. She grabbed hold of his tunic and pulled him to her, deepening the kiss hungrily. While he came to visit her every chance he got, Marian still felt the loneliness of his absence. It was different from when she had been in the castle, where his visits had also been far too infrequent. She’d had work to do, then, in her role as spy, always on her guard, always listening out for anything useful to pass on to Robin. In the convent all she could do was read, pray and occasionally, take a walk in the grounds. It was also worse, lying in her narrow bed that seemed far more uncomfortable than the forest floor, without Robin beside her. She missed waking up with his nose buried in her hair and arm slung unceremoniously across her torso, missed him shifting in the night to be closer to her and unconsciously seeking her hand, missed –
- him kissing her neck, suckling the soft skin hard enough to leave a mark and making her draw a gasp all the way from her toes.
“Robin” she whispered throatily, as he pushed aside the fabric of her gown to leave a trail of heated kissed down her collarbone. “I’ve missed you.”
He smiled against her skin, and gently pushed her down into the thin mattress of her bed. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he murmured in between kisses, a devious hand working its way under her skirt.
“Don’t say that,” she admonished him, gently tugging his hair to bring his lips back to hers. “You’ll tempt the fates.”
He lifted his head slightly and looked at her, amused. She used his distraction to grab the hem of his tunic and pull it over his head, divesting the garment neatly on the floor.
Robin stopped for a moment. His hand removed itself from her thigh and he leant against it, regarding her.
“I could not be any fonder than I am right now,” he told her intently. His free hand gently caressed her belly, drawing invisible circles above where their child rested. After a while his fingers crept up her body to press against her breast. Marian arched into him, his caresses felt even through her clothes.
“The nuns?” Robin asked, and glanced towards the closed door of Marian’s chamber.
“They won’t bother us,” Marian told him. While she was sure the Mother Superior would not approve, there was no reason for her to know and besides, Marian was sick of waiting. He was her husband now – no one could shame her into thinking it was wrong to want to be with him.
“Just try to be quiet.”
Robin laughed heartily. “Me? You are the one-”
“Oh, hush.” She pulled him down for another silencing kiss. Robin’s hand (much to her chagrin) moved away from her breast, dancing up the skin of her collarbone, before winding its way through her hair. His fingers brushed one of the flowers he had placed there, and Robin broke away from her again to regard the blossom thoughtfully. He brought the strand of hair to his lips and kissed the petals gently, then moved on to the next one wound in her dark tresses and kissed it in turn.
“When all of this is over,” he murmured softly. “I’ll take you to the fields between Knighton and Locksley, and make love to you among the wildflowers.”
Marian didn’t answer, but closed her eyes and imagined clear, blue skies, multihued flowers, and long grass to hide them from unwelcome eyes.
Marian had always considered herself to have a high tolerance for pain. She’d taken enough blows to her body not to notice the sting so much, to ignore the tenderness of a bruise, broken skin or pulled muscle – rarely in the past few years had she been without some injury or another. But no pain had ever felt like this – not even when Gisborne’s dagger had sliced her side and she had acutely felt Djaq’s needle sewing up her insides.
The Mother Superior placed a wet cloth to her forehead and stroked her hair tenderly. “There, child,” she said soothingly. “It will not be long.”
Marian wanted to lash out at the woman – how could she possibly know how much she was hurting? But she refrained, knowing that while she would probably be forgiven for most things while in labour, striking a nun was probably not one of them.
“Yeah, it’s okay, Marian,” Allan said from her bedside. “Can’t get much worse, can it?”
Marian huffed and leaned back against the bed, fists clenching as another contraction tore through her. Of all of the members of Robin’s gang, it would of course be Allan that was with her. They’d been taking turns watching over her in the final stages of her pregnancy, for Robin did not want her to be alone, and he could not be with her constantly. Their timing, again, was horrendous, because they’d received news that King Richard was returning any day, and bringing his army to Nottingham to oust the Sheriff personally.
Allan continued to prattle in what he must have believed were soothing words but Marian could not stand to hear him.
“Just shut up, Allan,” she told him through clenched teeth. She let out a cry of agony as her body contracted again, more painful that before. “Go get Robin,” she ordered him.
“I thought you said not to, I mean, with the King coming and everything – he’s in Nottingham waiting for ‘im.”
It was true Marian had forbidden Allan to leave when she had first gone into labour – she knew Robin would never had forgiven her for keeping him away, but she had thought of the King first – how his return needed to go well. But now…
“Just go!” she yelled, letting out a stream of curses.
“Alright, alright,” Allan held up his hands in submission and stood. “Mother,” he winked at the nun cheekily. “I like the new habit.”
The Mother Superior looked at him with thinly veiled-distaste. “I will continue to pray for you.” When Allan left she turned to the bed again. “You keep strange company, Marian,” she told her.
Marian tried to laugh, but instead she cried. Hours seemed to pass, or it could have been seconds, she wasn’t sure – everything became a whirl of agony and worry. The Mother tried to comfort her, but obviously had no experience in delivering children, and could do little else but go through her rosary over and over.
It seemed like days later when the door reopened and Marian felt her heart sink when Much, not Robin, flittered through.
“Marian?” he took a seat beside her bed and gingerly took her hand.
“Where is Robin?” she asked, ashamed of how small and weak her voice sounded.
“Well…”
“Tell me the truth, Much,” she commanded. “I’m still strong enough to beat the life out of you.”
“We can’t find him.”
“What?!” Marian all but screeched at him.
Much looked a little frightened. “Allan’s still looking for him – he went into Nottingham to help rally the townsfolk for when the King arrives, and no one knows where he went after that. Don’t worry, he has to be somewhere.”
“What if-”
“Don’t think that,” Much told her firmly, and grasped her hand. “He’ll be here. And I brought someone…”
Marian followed his gaze to the second person she hadn’t seen enter the room. “Matilda,” she laughed with relief.
The woman all but pushed the Mother Superior out of the way to get to Marian’s bedside. “You weren’t expecting me to miss out on all the fun were you?” she said, kind eyes twinkling. She took several bottles out of the bag she carried.
“I brought some things for the pain,” she cast the nun a disparaging look. “Something much better than prayer.”
“Thank you,” Marian breathed, as Matilda set to work.
The pain lessened for a time, but eventually became much worse. She clutched Much’s hand so tightly she was certain she broke one of his fingers but admirably, he did not try and pull away. She held onto him as if she was holding onto life itself.
“Not long now, Marian,” Matilda told her from the end of the bed. “You have to push.”
“Where is he?” Marian cried, hot tears burning her cheeks. Robin was still not there, and she needed him. “I – I can’t-”
“Yes you can,” Matilda told her forcefully. “And you have to, now.”
“Is something wrong?” Much asked frantically.
Marian barely heard Matilda’s reply. “No, but the child is coming now.”
Much squeezed her hand tighter. “Marian, you have to,” he told her.
“I can’t,” she repeated. “It’s too much…I need him…”
“I know,” Much replied, his voice anxious. “Look at me.”
“Much!” Matilda’s voice faded into the background, and Marian looked into his open, honest eyes.
“You have to be strong for all of us,” Much told her, tears falling unimpeded onto his cheeks. “He couldn’t survive without you, and that’s why you have to fight, right now to get through this, even if he’s not here. He’ll be there for you every day after this, so long as you’re alive.”
Marian nodded, and, closing her eyes, concentrated on birthing her child and ignoring the pain. She did not open them again until she felt Much’s hand being pulled from her own.
“Much?” she raised her head, wondering what had caused him to abandon her when a warm, familiar hand slid into hers. Robin was there, beside her, eyes stricken with fear and sweat clinging to his hair.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and pressed her knuckles to his lips. “I’m sorry.”
She could not answer him as the pain was still too great. But she knew it would end soon, now that Robin was there.
“Robin,” Matilda admonished him fiercely. “I brought you into this world, so stop distracting my patient so I may bring in your child. Marian, one more push.”
Robin held her hand tightly with both of his, whispering soft words of encouragement, and gave Marian the strength to push one last time. She screamed with the effort, and felt as if she had been torn in two. But then the pain subsided and she heard a shrill, piercing cry of the baby.
Much jumped up, erupting into shouts of delight, and Robin kissed her hard. She was too tired to return it, and fell back onto the pillows, exhausted. It was not until Matilda brought her the child, cleaned and wrapped in swaddling, that Marian fully realised that it was over. She took the little boy in her arms, and laughed. She had never found anything funnier in her life. She could hardly believe that the tiny, squirming child was real, that it was the life that had been living inside of her, that she had talked to, felt move and kick, and now was lying in her arms.
Robin’s arm snaked around her shoulders, and he placed a kiss to her temple. She leant into him, a sense of calm washing over her.
After what seemed like an age in her daze of relief and happiness, but was perhaps only a few minutes, Marian realised how crowded the room had become. Matilda was in tears and trying to hide them at the foot of her bed, while Much, seated beside her, did not have any such pretence and sobbed happily. Carter was there, looking dignified but not unmoved, while Allan was grinning inanely and for an irrational moment, Marian hoped Matilda had not allowed them in until the birth had been over. A ludicrous thought at such a time, but, she believed, not unwarranted. Little John stood by the window, an unmistakable look a pride and joy brightening his features. Even the Mother Superior was there at the back of the room, trying to disapprove of all the affection in the room, but failing miserably.
Marian’s heart ached with love for all of them, and gratitude that they had all been there for her. She could not have survived the past months without the support of all of them. And of course, from Robin at her side, his smile the widest of all as he played with the tiny hands of their child.
“Wait,” she asked, turning to her husband. “What happened in town? The King?”
“Has returned,” Robin said proudly. “The Sheriff’s in the dungeons, the Black Knights are through.” He paused, biting his lip. “I’m sorry, Marian, I was so late.”
“You always turn up eventually,” Marian said affectionately. She was struck by the utter simplicity of her relief. Her, Robin, and their little boy. They’d all made it through alive.
Locksley Manor, five years later
Marian shifted the baby in her arms and turned to the woman seated beside her. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Djaq smiled and looked the child fondly. “I’m sorry we were not here for her birth. Or Thomas’ for that matter.”
Marian laughed lightly. “I think you were a little busy yourself at that time.”
The front door banged open and in charged two children, laughing playfully and unfortunately, quite loudly as well.
“Thomas,” Marian admonished her five year old son. “I just got Katherine to sleep,” she told him, indicated the peaceful child in her arms.
“Sorry Mama,” Thomas looked contrite, dishevelled hair falling into his eyes. “We were just playing.”
“I’m sure.” Marian shifted her daughter to one arm and with the other brushed Thomas’ too-long hair back from his face.
“Did you lose your father?” She had sent the children out with a contingent of minders, and yet they had returned alone.
“They’re coming,” Thomas answered.
“We were just too quick for them,” Djaq’s daughter, Robyn, piped up from beside her mother.
Katherine shifted, and Marian adjusted her again, praying she didn’t wake up. It had taken her and Djaq what seemed like forever to get her to sleep in the first place.
“Why don’t you two see if you can hurry your fathers up,” Marian suggested. “Before you disturb your sister any further.”
Djaq patted her daughter on the back and nodded encouragingly. The two children scarpered out of the room as quickly as they had entered it.
“He seems like a handful,” Djaq noted with equanimity.
“He’s not too bad, usually,” Marian told her fondly. “He just gets excited very easily. It’s this one who is going to be trouble,” she said, indicating her daughter. “Thomas was such a quiet baby, but Katherine,” she sighed. “I can tell she will be wild.”
“Just like her mother,” Djaq noted, smiling.
“Yes, well, I could live without her causing me the trouble I caused my father.” Marian heart twinged a little at the words, regret that her own father could never have seen her this way – happily married, a mother – everything he had wanted for her.
“You seem so different, Marian,” Djaq looked at her appraisingly. “I remember a woman to whom the idea of this life would have seemed…not unwanted, but…” she stopped, seemingly unable to find the right words.
“I know what you mean,” Marian replied, not the slightest bit offended.
In truth, she sometimes missed the way they used to live their days as if every one could be their last. There was a part of her heart – and Robin’s too – that longed for those heady days when he appeared at her window, covered in dirt and sweat and glory, anxious for praise or even chastisement because to both of them, words of jest had always been tantamount to words of affection. It was strange to think she missed fearing for his life every time she saw him sneaking around the castle, believing that a simple hood would hide him from watchful eyes – fearing every time the Sheriff looked in her direction that her true allegiances would be discovered.
While Robin could revel in the notoriety of being Robin Hood, they had both decided to keep her identity as the Nightwatchman secret in case, Robin had wisely pointed out, there was ever need for it again. She was seen by the villagers only as Robin’s wife, not as someone who had come to their aid just as much as he had. There seemed to be an injustice to that which she tried not to let bother her. But sometimes it seemed she had willingly placed herself in the boxes she had always tried to break free from.
“I did have my doubts,” she told Djaq, knowing she would understand. “And everything happened so quickly – our marriage, Thomas, coming back here to Locksley, I wasn’t entirely sure that I was ready for all that.” Marian paused, and bit her lip in contemplation.
“But maybe that was the way it had to happen,” she continued, “I had to get used to it that way.” She looked down at the baby in her arms and smiled contentedly. It was good to have a family and, she who had only ever had her father, felt blessed to see all of Robin’s former gang surrounding them, and loving her in her own right. They knew the truth, after all.
And Robin – who was so sweet and loving, even if occasionally he was a little too attentive and never let her have a moment’s peace. It had been a struggle for them to cope living with each other in a domestic setting (it had been years since Robin had even slept in a proper bed) and with a small child to care for. It had been a learning curve for both of them, months and years filled with heated arguments followed by stony-silences, but eventually their disagreements proved rewarding. Marian had known Robin as a boy, a teenager, a young man and finally as a husband, yet it had taken some time to get to truly understand him. They each had to make sacrifices, and had learnt to compromise. Marian considered them both happier for it.
“What about you?” Marian asked Djaq playfully. “I seem to remember you once not wanting anything to do with babies.”
Djaq smiled mysteriously. “Sometimes it seems happiness comes to us from where we expect it least.”
The door banged open again, but this time an entire troupe bounded in. Thomas led the way, followed by Robin with a younger, blonde child in his arms, Much carrying Robyn on his back, Will and Allan, who were both watching Much very closely, Carter, looking amused, and finally Little John bringing up the rear. They all stomped their way into the hall of Locksley Manor and Marian had no hope that her child could sleep through the racket. True enough, Katherine opened her eyes, fidgeted, and started to scream.
Marian turned to the brood hopelessly. “Now look what you’ve done!”
All of the men suddenly looked very guilty, and chorus of mumbled apologies followed. All, but Robin, who simply grinned cheekily.
“Now, now, my love,” he said teasingly. “She just didn’t want to be left out of all the fun.” He passed the blonde child to Much. “There’s yours back,” he told him. “I’d better go tend to mine.”
Much took the boy carefully, who was looking rather concerned at all the noise and willingly went into his father’s embrace. Will took Robyn off Much’s back, gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek and set her down on the floor. Robyn giggled and wiped her face, before bounding off towards Thomas.
Marian whispered words of comfort to her daughter and rocked her gently in her arms. Robin appeared at her side and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“How are my women today?” he asked mischievously.
“The one that is half yours is annoyed at all the noise when she was trying to sleep,” Marian quipped. “And the one you only claim to be yours is trying to rectify that situation.”
“The one that is half mine is just excited to see me,” Robin jested as he ticked one of Katherine’s toes. “And the one that only claims not to be mine is jealous of the attention she’s getting.” He reached to take the baby and Marian willingly passed her over.
“Isn’t that right, my little Kate?” he addressed her and almost immediately the child’s crying transformed into laughter. “Besides, Marian,” he kissed her again. “You can do all the claiming you want later on tonight.”
Marian didn’t blush – nothing Robin ever said shocked her anymore. Djaq obviously tried to hold in her laughter, something Allan and Carter, who had seated themselves in their usual chairs by the fire, had not managed. Robin grinned at her as she shook her head in mock-disapproval.
“Much has invited us all over for dinner tonight at Bonchurch,” Robin thankfully changed the subject, seating himself beside Marian and making silly faces at his daughter.
“That is very kind of you, Much,” Djaq said.
“Eve all but insisted,” Much told them, but the tips of his ears turned red under the praise. “She’s over there now, scaring all the cooks into creating a perfect feast.” He smiled fondly at the small boy in his arms. “And Jack likes the company.”
Will shot his wife a look of beaming pride. “So we finally get to meet this Eve then?”
“Yes,” Much replied. “At the very least to show that she was not just a figment of my imagination, like you all were always saying.”
“You’ve got the proof right there in your arms, mate,” Allan chimed in.
Much tightened his hold on Jack ever so slightly. The small boy looked around the room forebodingly and buried himself deeper into his father’s shoulder.
“I always believed you Much,” Little John said, and reached for the child. Jack lost his dour expression and gleefully jumped into John’s waiting arms. He was the only person, save his parents and perhaps Robin, around whom little Jack lost his chronic shyness.
Robyn, who apparently felt it was an injustice not to be held like the other children, abandoned her game with Thomas on the floor and flew towards where Allan, Will and Carter were seated. Obviously deciding that she could get a hug from her father anytime, Robyn leapt into Allan’s lap.
“Oof!” Allan exclaimed as she knocked the air out of his chest.
“Robyn,” Djaq said warningly.
“S’alright, Djaq” Allan answered, grinning at the little girl. “She’s got style, this one.”
“I think you’ve made a friend for life, there,” Carter noted, leant back in his chair and smirked.
“Yeah,” Allan agreed, tweaked Robyn’s nose. “And if your Mum and Dad ever try to take you back to the Holy Land I’ll hold you hostage,” he told her solemnly.
Robyn seemed enthusiastic about the plan, and looked towards her father. Will shrugged. “You’ve won me over.”
Marian looked at Djaq pointedly.
“Why else do you think we’re here?” Djaq asked, smiling secretively.
“To impose on my hospitality just like all those other miscreants over there,” Robin spoke up, nodding towards the men at the fire.
“You’d be lost without our company,” Carter called back from across the room.
“Yeah,” Allan agreed. “What would your lives be like if you didn’t have us around to entertain you?”
“For one thing, we’d have a lot more children,” Robin replied and gave Marian a playful wink.
“Robin, please,” Little John looked disgusted, and used his large hands to cover Jack’s ears.
“What?” Robin looked back towards Katherine, who had fallen asleep again. “Doesn’t hurt ‘em.”
“It hurts us,” Much pointed out. “We don’t need to hear about…that sort of thing.”
Robin just laughed and refocused his attention on his daughter. Marian was content in watching them when she felt Thomas tug on her skirt.
“I picked these for you, Mama,” Thomas said, and held out a bunch of wildflowers that she hadn’t noticed he’d been clutching since he returned to the manor.
“Thank you, Thomas.” She took the flowers and allowed him to climb into her lap. She glanced at Robin who shrugged, and pretended that he hadn’t been watching her. “They’re beautiful.” She gave her son a fierce hug.
Her life may not be as exciting as it once. Marian now had what she had been fighting for all those years, what she had yearned for – that sense of normalcy, of love and family to fill her heart and soul. The people in the room, in her house, bound to her by blood, and something deeper, through their common sacrifice, through shared times of deepest sorrow and wildest joy. Her husband who had become her partner in every sense of the word, who kept her days entertaining and was always willing to let her sharpen her wits on him. And of course, her children, who she had never asked for but had been blessed with, all the same. It was enough, she decided.
In fact, were she given the choice, she would do it all again.