Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Quintessence of Life

Part 1

Mysteries of the Past

Prologue

The hour of sunset in Sherwood Forest was still and lonely, blazing in gold, red, and green. The young sandy-haired man stalked slowly through the woods, where he had spent the gladsome minutes of his childhood and boyhood together with Marian of Knighton and Much, strolling lazily along serpentine paths, listening to the gentle murmur of trees and the sweet singing of birds. This man was Robin Hood, in his old life known as Sir Robin James Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and Lord of Locksley.

Robin stopped and looked around, searching for a familiar path to his favorite place Sherwood. His pale blue eyes were empty, without a flicker of mischief or a sparkle of joy. Dressed in a brown satin tunic and green trousers, his slender figure blended into the green surroundings. His face was ghostly pale, and a gorgeous mane of sandy-colored hair looked bright gold in the last glow of the setting sun. The outlaws waited for him in the camp, but he didn't want to meet them today.

He crossed the clearing and stopped near the meadow where he had often seated with Marian in a tight, affectionate embrace. He stared at the tree as if he were mesmerized, hungry for the vision of a certain form and the sound of a certain voice. But there was no one there – he was alone in the woods, together with his pain and sorrow, and Marian wasn’t going to come to him. Now the only interest he could spare from being in this place, or rather from a symphony of his old dreams that would never come true, was a painful reminder of what could have been and what he had lost.

He shut his eyes to block the images in his mind; the despondency of his heart was depicted in his countenance. "Goodbye forever, my love," he murmured as he opened his eyes. "I remember the night when I kissed you for the first time; we stood here, under this tree, then. It felt so well, so true, and so natural – it was Heaven.” He swallowed heavily. “We parted our ways here so long ago when you broke our engagement. But we were so happy here after our reconciliation." His eyes stung, and he blinked back tears. "Now all these moments seem so far-away, as if they were just a sweet dream."

The red evening flame vanished from the summits of the trees, and the woods were almost in shadows. The late summer forest was beautiful, but the serenity of woodland didn't interest Robin Hood. The wind gusted through the trees, signing a dirge about the death of the love of Robin Hood and Maid Marian. The sound of this sorrowful, plangent symphony echoed through Robin’s head like a shout across a valley of death and destruction, and there was a feeling of rain in the air which would drive in gusts on the forest.

A distraught Robin sat down on the grass, leaning back against the trunk of a meadow. He felt depleted, and all his strength was scattered in fits of agitation, of struggle, of despondency, and of agony most of all. His mind was burning feverishly with the images of the most tragic day in his life – the image of Gisborne holding Marian’s hand and informing him about their wedding. Although it still seemed unreal, Robin knew that his romance with Marian was over, and he prayed that God would give him the strength to survive his heartbreak. Robin had lost Marian, and she was now Guy of Gisborne's wife.

He stared into the emptiness, his eyes vacant and luminous blue with tears. The thought that Marian had married the man who had attempted regicide and who had almost killed him filled his entire being with revulsion and hatred. The vision of Marian and Guy standing together, their hands entwined, came to his mind as an unbearable emotional pain ripped through him. All that prevented him from collapsing was his knowledge that England and King Richard needed him. His expression was a personification of agony, as if he were a man felt thrilled at the prospect of dying to stop his suffering.

A sudden flaring of the afterglow of sunset filled the landscape with lights and shadows, yellow, orange, blue, and black, like the radiance of the darkening sky. Robin shut his eyes and dragged a deep breath, and held it for a long, long time. His eyes stung with tears, and the sunset suddenly wavered behind the blur of tears. Failing to banish bitter thoughts from his mind, he lowered his chin to his chest and gave free rein to his feelings, and several tears, salty and burning, slid down his cheeks.

He tried to breathe in and out deeply to release some of the pent-up stress in his system, but the air could barely squeeze through the constriction of his throat. For a moment, Robin hated Sherwood and England; he hated his life, King Richard, his friends, and even God; he hated himself, his convictions and his choices. And yet, he knew that he would have never acted differently even if he had been granted a chance to change his life. He clenched his fists, and his nails bit into his palms. A funereal numbness overcame him, and he feared to move, to speak, and even to blink.

It was a moment of more strong pain and intense bitterness than Robin had ever felt before. “Marian,” he whispered as if she could hear him, his chest heavy with pain. “How could you marry this traitor after everything we have been through together?” Why have you betrayed our love? Did you want to hurt me by marrying him like I hurt you when I left for the war?" There was a pressure in his heart that made it difficult to speak, and he trailed off. “Marian, you killed me! Do you hear me? You killed me!"

The utter stillness of the forest greeted him, and Robin squeezed his eyes shut, as if it could save him from his heartache. He was too frightened and too confused, rhythms of agony spreading through his body in waves as his mind replayed today’s events again. The desolate silence augmented Robin's distress, heightening his emotions and sharpening his senses. Fresh tears came and rolled down his cheeks, but he didn’t even brush them away and let them fall. The world was so unfair, ugly, and hateful, and there was no place for kindness, trust, and truth there.

The sun was low, and the tall trees sent their shadows across the clearing, but Robin wanted darkness to blanket Nottingham and him, as if it could take away all his hurt and pain.  His heart was bleeding like a large open wound, his soul was devastated, his dreams and hopes were shattered. Yet, for whatever reason, he felt that his life was not over, as if someone were whispering words of consolation into his ear in a voice full of kindness and tenderness, imploring him to break through the thick fog of fear and pain. But his grief was so great that his pain blocked his perception of voices and sentiments, leaving him almost numb.

Despite a rainstorm brewing, Robin decided not to spend the night in the outlaws' camp. He was so absorbed in his grief that he lost track of time, and soon the darkness descended upon the forest. He raised his eyes to Heaven and studied the clouds driving across the sky. He felt the cool dampness of a cold rain on his face, and drops of rain mingled with his own tears. He knew that it would rain during the whole night, but he didn't care that he would be soaked to the bone.

He rose to his feet and ran his eyes across the clearing, having difficulty to believe that he was alone in this place, but it was real and he had to accept that. There were many other things he had to take care of, but he had no strength to fight anymore, which brought him to utter hopelessness in his own power and in himself. His desperation suggested a resource, and he lowered his head and fixed his gaze on his sheathed scimitar. The weapon belonged to the first Saracen whom he had killed in the Holy Land, and he kept the weapon in commemoration of his first killing in a bloody battle.

Death at his own hand suddenly seemed a blessing and a way to plunge into oblivion which his heart craved so desperately. Robin unsheathed his sword, looking at that blade and thinking how many people had died at the murderous penetration of Damascus steel into human flesh. He went still, completely still, staring at the blade for what seemed an eternity. He wanted to finish his own life with one strike.

The blood mounted to his face and neck, and he looked almost angry as he dropped the weapon to the ground. He made up his mind – he wouldn't surrender to despair. He loathed himself for his weakness as he permitted himself to think of taking his own life. A feeling of revulsion was so strong and painful in his mind that the tears welled up and flowed abundantly, and he gave himself a word that he would never allow himself to think of that again. It was not in his character to give up and surrender.

If Marian betrayed him and their love, then Robin would live for England, King Richard, the people, and his friends. He was betrayed by the only woman he had ever loved, but he wasn't alone in the world – his friends and many other people loved and needed him. Robin Hood had a magnanimous soul and a kind heart. He was a fighter for justice and peace, for what he believed in, though he knew that his dreams would always be illusions.

Robin wasn't an utter fool, and he understood that his mission to save England was doomed to failure from the beginning – he could save only some innocents and the king, as well as give the people hope for the brighter and better future. Such thoughts were painful for Robin, but they had suddenly entered his mind in the past months of his struggle with Sheriff Vaisey and Guy of Gisborne. But he had never told anyone of his grievous musings, for it would mean the death of Robin Hood and his cause.

"My life is not over, and I will survive. It is not a good time to die, for King Richard and England need me and the sheriff hasn’t been defeated yet," Robin said aloud, trying to instill more confidence in himself. His cheeks burnt with shame at the thought of what he had just wanted to do to himself, thinking that he was an utter fool to admit a thought about suicide. "I will forget her. I will move on. She is nothing to me. She doesn’t deserve my love and devotion."

Robin stayed in the clearing for the whole night. He lay on his back under the meadow, his eyes tightly shut. The darkness and stillness cloaked him in a deep slumber, and he couldn't help but dream about the clouds of dust, the crimson sand, the clang of swords, the clamor of battles, and the smell of blood and death which were an essential part of his life since he had turned eighteen.

Although physically Robin was in the forest, his mind transported him many hundreds of miles away, to Acre, into another reality – to the time when he had served as captain of King Richard's private guard. In his dream, he could see himself dressed in a white Crusader tunic and a silver chainmail as he stormed out of his tent, realizing that there was an unexpected attack on the king's camp despite the ceasefire. It was again the dream about the fateful Saracen attack when Robin had been grievously wounded by the masked Saracen – Guy of Gisborne, his sworn enemy since childhood.

Robin shuddered in his fitful sleep. In his dream, he could see himself in a crouched position on the sand, shooting arrows with deadly accuracy at the Saracen assassins. He managed to kill four of them before the moment of his demise came. Then he could feel a light touch of someone's hand on his shoulder, and then the sharp, violent pain in his left side coursed through him as the cold edge of the blade sliced his flesh deeply through his ribs, not piercing his heart only by a miracle.

Even though he lay upon the green grass, Robin felt as if the ground were the blood-soaked sand, which was usually cold during desert nights. He winced as he saw himself tumble to the sand and felt hot, thick blood slipping slowly out of his body. He could almost hear Much's anguished cries as his friend rushed to him and knelt by his side to inspect his injury. Robin writhed in agony as if he were still tormented by the searing, white-hot pain in his side and dizziness sweeping over him.

Visions changed, and now Robin dreamt of the tall, muscular Saracen standing above the king's sleeping figure, with a sword in his hands, ready to strike a fatal downward blow. He dreamt of fighting with Guy, lunging at him and parrying his blows, then swinging his sword in a deadly arc and making a deep cut on his enemy's forearm. The vision of a black wolf's head tattoo on Guy's forearm was an easily recognizable thing, appalling and causing nausea to stir in the pit of his stomach.

Robin awoke from his nightmare with a loud scream, cold sweat dripping from his forehead, his heart racing. He always awoke at the moment when he sliced Guy's forearm and caught a glimpse of a black wolf's head tattoo on Guy's skin. He dragged a deep, excruciating breath, then brushed away strands of his wet hair from his forehead.

He lifted his shirt and traced his fingers along his left side, where Guy had wounded him more than two years ago. He gasped sharply as his hand touched his hideous scar, stark against his side even after more than two years. He closed his eyes against the remembered pain and fear he had felt on the night of the Saracen attack when Guy had plunged his dagger into him. He had saved the king on that night, but he had failed to kill Gisborne, which made his victory hollow. Before the scar had been a tantalizing reminder of his perceived failure to punish the king’s would-be assassin for an attempt on his liege’s life, but now it became an everlasting symbol of his ruined life and hopes.

Robin’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked up. The sun had already set behind the trees, which were still gilded with a russet reflection. The rain had ceased more than an hour before, and a thick crescent moon hung in the sky. He banned himself from thinking of death. It was not his time to die. King Richard and England and the people needed him. He had a mission to fulfill, and he wouldn't fail.

§§§

At Locksley Manor, Sir Guy Crispin Fitzcorbet of Gisborne lay on a wide mahogany bed hung with heavy green and golden curtains, several striped cushions spread across soft white sheets. On his wedding night, he was alone in his bedroom: Marian was sleeping in another room as she asked him to wait with the consummation of their marriage.

Guy tossed and turned in his bed, muttering something unclear in Norman-French under his breath, as if he were feverish and incoherent. He was plagued by nightmares since his boyhood – since the tragic day of the fire at Gisborne Manor, when Roger of Gisborne, Ghislaine of Gisborne, and Malcolm of Locksley had died in the red flames that had destroyed his life. He had long resolved to stop fighting off his nightmares, and every night he was tormented by demons of the past that were slowly killing him.

Tonight Guy's dreams started from the vision of the burning Gisborne Manor, the orange flames licking every crack and cranny of the building. He dreamed of Bailiff Longthorn and the crowd of infuriated people who set the fire at the façade of the manor, blocking all the ways for the trapped people to escape. His heart thundered an uneven beat as the bailiff's voice commanding to burn everything to ashes resonated in his mind; he could hear the bailiff's accusation of murdering his own parents and the final verdict to banish him and his sister Isabella from Locksley.

Soon Guy was gripped by the dream about the Saracen attack on the king's camp; he often had the same dream after his return from Acre. He could see himself running across the sandy dunes, a group of the Saracen assassins following him. Visions crowded his mind: the disguise of Saracens, the monotonous sandy dunes, the bitter cold of desert night, the fetid odor of blood in the air, the attack on the king’s camp, a clang of swords - everything so real, as if he were back on the battlefield of Acre. Yet, all the images of the attack were blending into one man’s face – Robin of Locksley’s face.

Every muscle of his tired body tensed as his mind reproduced the image of himself heading to the place where Robin crouched on the sand and was firing arrows at the assassins, killing them one by one. Guy shifted on his bed, stretching his long legs across the sheets. He could feel his blood boiling with anger, his heart seized with unlimited bloodlust. Guy stiffened as he envisioned moving towards his target from the back, putting a hand on Robin's shoulder, and then plunging his dagger into Robin's left side. In the next moment, Guy heard Robin's scream of pain and saw his enemy tumble to the ground.

The slow stream of images of the Saracen attack played out in his mind. Guy envisioned himself running to the king's tent and standing near the king's bed. But for some strange reason he paused, hesitating to do the evil dead, his heart hammering harder in excitement mingled with doubt and fear. He recalled Sheriff Vaisey's words that hesitation at a crucial moment because of misplaced sensibilities and conflicting emotions could cause failure of a sacred mission.

And yet, Guy continued standing near the king’s bed, the darkness and the light fighting in his heart and soul. Perhaps he still possessed a shred of little honor, which made him loath to cross the line and kill the king. But he had no choice, for he needed the king's death to gain absolute power and enormous wealth. His life and future depended on the success of his mission in Acre, and he steeled himself against a feeling of pity for the king who didn't deserve his throne.

A loud, desperate voice calling for King Richard pierced Guy's dreams, and then the tantalizing image of Robin running into the tent, his Saracen curved sword flashing silver in the darkness, came to his mind. Guy groaned at the memory of his feelings – bewilderment, amazement, fear, and dread. He didn't expect Robin to be alive after he had stabbed him, and he feared that he had to fight with the king's legendary captain for a chance to flee and possibly even for his own life. And yet, oddly enough he felt released from importuning doubt, and he was relieved that he didn't kill Richard.

A frightened Guy gave a howl of pain and dread, and his body started shaking, his eyelids twitching. In his dreams, he was transfixed with horror at the touch of cold steel slashing his sleeve. He could almost feel the sudden, fierce pain shooting through his flesh as Robin's sword sliced his forearm. He suppressed a shiver as his hand automatically went to his forearm, the fingers of the other clenching into the folds of his night robe that clung tightly to his body. And then he was running from the king’s tent, being chased by the Crusaders, running faster and faster, knowing that if he was captured, he would die.

He awoke with a jerk, his heart pounding, his mouth dry with fear, a terrible feeling of dread oppressing her. His entire body was shaking with fear and rage. He glanced around, feeling a cold shiver progressing up his back. He slept in the master bedroom which had once been occupied by Malcolm of Locksley. That thought sent a wave of nausea from his stomach to his throat, and he swallowed hard. Since Guy had moved in Locksley, he never felt that he was at his own home, for the memories of Robin were in every room and in every corner of the manor.

Guy turned his head and stared into the glowing, golden flames of the candles on the bedside table. His glossy raven hair shone in the candlelight. Taking a deep breath, he held it for a long time and then exhaled sharply. He took another deep breath, trying to relax, but after feeling a dread of that magnitude it was difficult to regain composure. His breath rasped harsh in his throat, his heart skipped a beat, and he shook his head, blinking the sweat from his eyes.

The Saracen attack was engraved in his memory forever. "Will I ever forget about the Saracen attack? Why does every night I have the same dream?" Guy asked himself, clueless why he always became so anxious when he thought of his failure in Acre. "Why do I feel that I did a wrong thing when I went to Acre? Why do I feel relieved that I didn’t kill the king?” He failed to find an explanation, and his anxiety morphed into a hot rage, which, however, quickly abated.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to think of the Saracen attack. He concentrated instead on the recent events, feeling elated at the thought that he had taken everything from Robin and had completed his plan of revenge for the years of living in poverty in Normandy, for insults and humiliation he endured from Vaisey, and for all the misery in his life. He had won the battle with Robin, and he smiled with dark pleasure, thinking of the pain he had caused his archenemy.

He smiled with grim satisfaction as he imagined Robin going mad and suffering in the cold forest on Marian's wedding night. “Mourn the loss of your love, Hood! Mourn and suffer and weep if you can weep,” he said, as if he were talking to Robin. His heart pounded harder in delight, for thoughts about Robin’s pain made him happy. “You lost her, Hood! I defeated you today!”

Yet, Guy knew that his present happiness was an illusion, behind the delightful facade there was an increasing sense of anxiety and great worry, which were ripping through his gut as he considered all that could go wrong. If he was honest with himself, he feared that he didn't win the final battle with Robin, including the fight for Marian's heart. Guy cursed under his breath, exhaling in a sigh of frustration and nervousness. He felt fear shredding his heart with every tumultuous beat.

He touched the place on his right forearm where Robin's sword had injured him on the night of the Saracen raid. When he came back from Acre, his black wolf's head tattoo was still there and there was a scar across it. But on the feast to celebrate the king's birthday Robin Hood had ripped open his sleeve and had discovered his tattoo; later Vaisey had burnt it off with a special acid. Guy also didn’t forget the day when Robin had come so close to murdering him in the woods and they had fought like two possessed men; later the sheriff had only added him more pain.

Guy laughed, the sound reverberating throughout the chamber. "Well done! I took everything from Robin Hood. I avenged the disgrace and plight of the Gisborne family," he told himself, his mouth curving in a poisonously sweet smile. "Marian married me, and now she is my wife. Hood lost her, and that’s exactly what he deserves. She is only mine – she will never be Hood's again."

Guy turned his gaze at the window that wasn't draped with curtains whatsoever. The rain had apparently stopped, and only a few thin clouds appeared moving swiftly over the wide, dark expanse of the sky. Yet, the wind continued rising and the moan of the forest increased to a roar. There was the inky darkness outside, for the moon disappeared behind the clouds, perhaps only to reappear blooming in some other spot, in some distant parts of the forest.

All of a sudden, impotent fury swept through Guy with the swiftness of a winter squall. He had to beat back the memories of agony, pain, darkness, and misery. He swallowed heavily, again haunted by the sensation that the events of this day didn't make him happy and didn't give him relief either. Marian plastered a fake smile on her face, but he knew that her smile was only a feeble attempt at the expression a good wife should wear. He told himself that he shouldn't be having such thoughts, yearnings, and doubts, but his gut feeling told him that his concern wasn’t groundless.

His feelings for Marian were something wonderful and more special than anything he had ever experienced in the darkness he had lived in since he had met Vaisey. Nevertheless, a part of him ached with the strange feeling that his relationship with Marian was only for a time, not forever, although now they were legally married. He feared that they would fail to make their marriage something more than pretense, for the shadow of the great Robin Hood was still lurking between them.

He shook his head and shuddered. The image of Robin's face on the day of the fire came to his mind. He could still remember Robin's vulnerable and frightened face, his enemy's gaze full of pain and fear, his little voice asking about his father's fate, every word echoing with husky, persistent entreaty and sheer horror, which had captured Guy's attention. He wondered why he remembered Robin's scared face so often, as if fate were mercilessly toying with him, refusing to grant him a desirable oblivion.

"God help me forget the past," Guy said to himself in a pleading voice. His gaze slid to the forearm Robin had once wounded, and he felt his heart constrict in his chest. "Why is Hood always present in my life? Will I be ever free from him?"

Fear lived in his heart. Bloody battles, torture, physical pain, injuries, mental anguish, and humiliation from the sheriff — none of these things frightened Guy as much as Robin Hood did. He dreaded to think about the day of King Richard’s return, if the absentee monarch ever returned. He tried unsuccessfully to quell the fears that continued assaulting him, and the thought of his conflict with Robin Hood terrified him to the core, dread wrapping his chest like a band of steel.

"The battle is not over," Guy muttered to himself, clenching his fists, his face stiff with fury. "I should kill Hood before the king’s return. One of us must die – this thief must die."

Guy looked as if he might say something more to himself, but his mouth went dry, his heart sank into his throat. He tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering shut at last under the force of his exhaustion. But just before he again drifted off to his dreams, Guy found himself smiling despite his ill temper and bad foreboding, for he had won the fight with Hood today. And yet, he felt that his fate was tied to Robin's in ways that only God and devil understood.

At the same time, Robin returned to the outlaws' camp. Not wishing to wake up his friends, he seated himself on a trunk of a tree and folded his arms over his chest, his face revealing more openly than any words how unhappy and angry he was at the moment. The idea of Gisborne living at Locksley Manor and oppressing innocent people made his skin crawl with disgust and his blood boil in anger.

"Gisborne, the fight is not over," Robin whispered into the darkness, looking up, at the dark sky. "I swear that I will win the final battle. You will pay for high treason – you are doomed to die."

Robin and Guy were dancing on the edge of a dangerous precipice, where any wrong word, act, and deed could cause immediate, painful retribution. There was an abyss waiting for Robin and Guy. And they could fall there and disappear as if they had never been. Their battles were like lethal dances of love and hatred – like something darker than black moonless night and more hellish than eternal damnation of a soul. The pain and hatred in the lives of Robin and Guy were an illusion that, however, was more real than reality, and the truth was the only salvation from the world of shadows.

Chapter 1

Broken Betrothals

Lady Marian Isabella Fitzwalter of Knighton, presently known as Lady Gisborne, sat on the edge of a large oak bed covered with golden and green tapestry. She was in a beautiful, spacious bedchamber at Locksley Manor, her new home. She occupied Robin of Locksley’s former bedchamber where Robin had lived throughout many years before his departure to the Holy Land; the servants brought her things there after her arrival in Locksley with Guy.

Marian stared at the gorgeous wedding ring with an oval cut diamond surrounded by five small diamonds; it was the same ring Guy had given her on their first wedding. Then she looked into the emptiness, not wishing to believe in what she had done today during the siege of the town by Prince John's army. She didn’t want to accept the painful truth that she had married Guy of Gisborne today, for the thought of being his wife tantalized her. Then reality sank in.

When Nottingham was surrounded by Prince John's army, Marian thought that they would not survive the siege. Death never seemed so close to Marian like in those minutes; she was astonished to discover that she didn't want to die and she did fear death. She began to believe that Robin would probably fail to bring Vaisey back in time. Even Will's presence in the castle and his assurance that Robin would move Heaven and Earth to be with her didn't calm her down. Robin was just a man, not God, and there was a chance that he would be too late to save them.

During the siege, it was as though the angel of death had chilled Marian's romantic feelings for Robin and had weakened her commitment to their relationship, as if the chill of death had scared away all the graces to whom she had sacrificed so much for the people’s sake and for Robin Hood's cause. Strangely, all those exciting pictures of her life with Robin and their children at Locksley, an ocean of happy days that had gleamed incessantly and brightly in her imagination for so long, and all other allurements of her future happy life with Robin were gone on the brink of death. Only fear of death and sensation of Guy's presence so close to her filled her world during those minutes.

She tried to distract herself by helping the people to ease their fears, but her own fears and uncertainties came flooding back every time her gaze fell on the frightened faces of women and children. Although she looked relatively calm and managed to smile, a cold shudder of dread and horror passed through her every time when her gaze fell on the horrified faces of townspeople.

Having reconciled with her fate to die without Robin by her side, Marian lost her self-possession and contact with reality. The greatest fear she had ever had – to die absolutely alone and unmarried – filled her entire being, for she did not see how Robin's usual protection could prevent her from dying. A chill fear got the better of her, and even her self-possession failed to reign supreme over all the terror in her heart. She was very frightened, much more frightened of death than she had thought she could be.

At the same time, the voice in the back of her head said to her that she could die with Guy by her side if she was deprived of a chance to be with Robin in her last minutes. That voice was low and toneless and infinitely sad, yet firm and confident; she heard that voice so clearly, as though somebody had spoken to her in reality. When Guy of Gisborne begged her to marry him on his knees, she glanced into his eyes, usually so cold, but so sincere, so warm, and so affectionate at that instant. She felt pity and kindness for him, thinking that there was goodness in Guy's heart and that he could change, becoming a good man. She also pitied herself and Robin who would most likely never see her again.

An invisible strength pushed her to Guy, and she accepted his marriage proposal. She didn't love the man clad in black leather, but it didn't matter on the very verge of death. She only knew that she didn't want to die alone while Guy was close to her and could possibly make her free of her fears and troubles at least for the short moments before their departure to God.

She said nothing, no word of protest or acceptance: she just followed Guy, ignoring Will's questioning looks and his apparent displeasure. She barely remembered the moment when Guy and she entered the chapel; she barely understood that the priest proclaimed them a husband and a wife. She felt only numbness and strange calmness when they exchanged marriage vows.

After the siege had been over and Robin had returned with the sheriff, Marian was shocked with what she had done, but there was no way back. But, though she tried to reassure herself that Robin would understand her, she still feared that he would never forgive her for her betrayal and even would never want to see her again. Mixed feelings of fear and guilt pulled at her as Marian remembered, through some tenacious thread of memory in her brain, another voice, the voice of the man whom she loved for so long, and that voice – Robin's voice – told her that she had made a fatal mistake.

Marian tried to find an answer why she had married Guy, but she couldn't; the only explanation was her fear of death that deprived her of rationality and logic. She threw herself into a sophisticated labyrinth of pain and unhappiness, and she didn't know why she did that. Her attitude to her own actions was ambiguous. At one side, she regretted that she had married Guy, for she had ruined a chance to have her long-awaited happiness with Robin. Yet, she was genuinely attracted to Guy, thinking that in some ways he could be even a better husband than Robin.

Robin and Marian were separated by insurmountable obstacles and their future was uncertain. Her relations with Robin were tested since his return to England, and there were times when she wasn't sure that they should be together, in spite of her feelings for him. Before Robin's return from war, Guy had been around Marian for quite a long time; she began considering him a potential match for herself, but Robin’s unexpected return had changed everything.

A male name – Robin – sounded like a bird's song in Marian's ears. He was Sir Robert James Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and the Lord of Locksley, who was called simply Robin since his early childhood in the association with a bird. Like a little bird, Robin had left her to fight for King Richard in the Holy Land, had been away for a long, long time, and then had returned to her, changing her life in the most unpredictable and most revolutionary ways. After all, Robin had always been the most mischievous and intolerable man, who had been able to turn everyone’s life topsy-turvy.

Marian still remembered her last meeting with Robin in the woods, immediately before his departure from Nottingham. It was the most heartbreaking and life-changing moment in her life. Every time she recalled the moment when Robin had informed her that the newly crowned King Richard had honored him by including the young Earl of Huntingdon into the king’s retinue on the Crusade, her spirits immediately plummeted and her heart collapsed in her chest.

Marian hated the days that had followed Robin’s return to Nottingham after they had attended King Richard’s luxurious coronation in London. The next day, Robin had come to the castle and invited her to have a long ride in the woods, chaperoned by Much. Robin had been reserved and tongue-tied, Much had been unusually quiet, and she had wondered what was going on. On that day, Robin hadn’t told her about his decision to leave for the Holy Land. In two days, Robin and Marian had agreed to meet in Sherwood. 

It was the hour of sunset in Sherwood Forest, and all was as peaceful as it could be some magical land of subtle delight. The birds were singing songs of celestial harmony, the gentle wind was whispering lullabies to slumbering nature, and shadows were gliding to and fro through the clearing that was Robin and Marian’s favorite place in the woods. They often watched beautiful sunrises and sunsets there, sitting in a tight embrace and dreaming of their future; he confessed to loving Marian and first kissed her in this very place.

As Marian reached her destination, she dismounted and tethered her horse to a tree. She crossed the clearing, her heart pounding in delight. She briefly paused and lifted her eyes to the vault of the vast canvas, humming a joyful song under her breath. She frowned at the sight of the sky streaked with gray clouds, through which the sun gave notification of its slow descent. On the opposite side of the clearing, Marian noticed Robin standing under an old tall oak. Her fiancé was alone, and she rejoiced that they would not be chaperoned today.

”There you are, my love!” Robin exclaimed excitedly, grinning roguishly at her. “I thought you were never coming! Hurry, hurry to me, Marian! You shouldn't keep me waiting."

”How impatient of you, Robin,” Marian retorted with a hint of laughter in her voice. “What good has impatience ever brought? It has only served as the mother of mistakes.”

Once his eyes met hers, they were both lost in their depths for a moment, like sinking into a sea of warmth and exaltation. The need to erase the space between them was egregious, and Robin trembled with it, his eyes traversing her face, lingering for a second on the sweep of her lashes. Her spirit soared like a bird when he gathered Marian into his strong arms, and his rapacious mouth caught hers in a breathtaking kiss with a hunger and intensity that made her shiver from head to toe. She molded herself against his body and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers entangled in his thick sandy hair.

“Marian," Robin said as he broke the kiss and drew back.

Robin perused her in admiration, his heart beating faster. Marian enchanted him like no other women did. The melodic modulations of her voice, the gentle curves of her beautiful lips, the deep sapphire gleam in those lovely eyes that bewitched him, the underlying vibrant ripple of her fiery spirit that played under all her moods as though it had been a gift from gods – Marian evoked in Robin exquisite happiness and unutterable joy. It was a dreamlike state of gladness and perpetual harmony that possessed Robin when they were together.

With volition, he mustered the courage to voice the truth. He looked into her eyes, his gaze vulnerable before turning blank. “There is something very important.”

Marian smiled. “Robin, you know that you can always tell me everything.”

Robin took her hands in his and began, “I have to leave, Marian.”

A glint of surprise entered her eyes. “Robin, you have just come back from King Richard’s coronation in London! I can hardly believe that you are leaving again!"

"Marian," he called in a voice thick with emotion. “Something has changed, my love.”

A sense of unease prickled along her nerves. “I don’t understand you.”

The decision Robin had made up weighed down upon him, and, suddenly, drew her close. “I am leaving, hopefully for not more than a year. I must do my duty to my liege and my country.” His face contorted in anguish, he admitted, “Life will be a torture without you.”

Marian let out her breath in a small gasp. “Robin, why do you have to be separated from me?” Her mind drifting back to the most desirable event in her life, her eyes glowed as she touched her hand to his cheek. “Our wedding is approaching fast. Stay in your estates, in Locksley or in Huntingdon.” Her visage brightened, but her heart was apprehensive. “It is difficult to organize the wedding, but it is such a pleasant experience!”

“Marian, we cannot marry in two months,” he replied sorrowfully. She was still locked in his arms, and for a moment, they remained silent, contemplating each other. He then put into words his offer. “We can marry the next week, before my departure, or after my return.”

Her expression evolved into amazement. “Why do you want to marry so urgently, Robin?” She brushed away a strand of hair from his forehead. “We were planning a grand wedding. My father wanted to invite all my distant relatives and all the nobles from the shire. Maybe your relatives from Scotland will also come.”

“Marian…” His voice halted.

Cocking an eyebrow, she smiled at him. “Robin, we need about two months to prepare. Or do you want us to have a ceremony not befitting your high station?”

"Marian, your father is fully aware that I will be leaving England very soon. He supports my decision to wed you before my departure.”

She shot him a bemused look. “My father approves of hasty nuptials?”

“Yes, he does.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her heart lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her throat.

He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Let’s marry next week. Marian, will you become my wife, Countess of Huntingdon and Lady of Locksley?”

Marian extricated herself from his grasp. “Where are you going?”

Robin cut right to the chase. “While I was in London, I had a long conversation with King Richard.” He smiled with a charming smile that always bewitched her. “Our liege is departing to the Holy Land in a few months, and I am going to accompany him.” His voice was growing agitated. “Our liege honored me by offering to become a member of the king’s private guard.”

Her eyes went wide. “King Richard is leaving England so soon after his coronation?”

"It is indeed soon. But he will appoint a Council of Regency, consisting of his most loyal nobles, who will rule England in his absence."

A confused Marian blinked. “But King Richard has a duty to stay here, with his people!”

“He vowed that he would liberate the Holy Land and Jerusalem from the Saracens. It is our king’s sacred dream, and now he has a chance to realize it. King Philippe of France is also going on Crusade, and it will be the glorious war of the two kings!”

She was unwilling to accept the truth. “The king cannot stay?”

He shook his head. “Our liege’s conscience will not allow him to break his vow.”

“What about the king’s duty to his people? How will he leave them so soon?”

Growing angry at her incomprehension, Robin attempted to explain. “King Richard must conquer the Holy Land. This Crusade has a great religious meaning and political importance.” He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Saladin combined the Egyptian and Syrian forces under his command and employed them to reduce the Crusader States and recapture Jerusalem. Pope Gregory proclaimed that the fall of Jerusalem was punishment for the sins of Christians, and there was a call for a new Crusade.”

She arched a brow. “And?”

His face grew serious. “King Henry and King Philippe ended their conflict to lead a new Crusade. As the old king died, it is King Richard’s duty to respond to the call to arms.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “So you are intending to go to war with the king?”

He gave a nod. “Yes.”

“It is a mistake,” she commented dryly as she furiously dashed away a tear.

“It is my intention and my duty,” he replied.

She fidgeted with her fingers in a fit of anxiety. “You want to go to war, don’t you?”

With ebullient enthusiasm, her betrothed promulgated, “I have to fight alongside King Richard against the infidels!”

Marian was taken aback, her eyes glittering with ire. “What about your duty to me? We are betrothed!” Her voice rose to a crescendo, her temper flaring like a fire when coals are cast onto it. “What about your duty to your people whom you are going to abandon? You are the Earl of Huntingdon. You have a lofty title, and you own quite many prosperous estates in England. Many people serve you, and their lives depend on you.”

Robin exhorted, “Marian, try to understand me!” His brain assimilating the unpleasant turn of events once more, he pronounced, “I do know that I have a duty to you and to my people, but I cannot ignore my duty to my king and my country. I am a knight and a man of honor; I am not a coward who stays behind when his liege goes into battle.”

“What about us? We planned to marry!”

Robin stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. Gazing into her eyes, he persuaded her, “Marian, you are very important to me, but I must do my duty to the king and England.” His thumb caressed her cheek, his expression sincere and tender. “I care for you so much that I would willingly do anything for you – I would gladly die for you.”

“I am not asking you to die,” she retorted in a plaintive voice; tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “You are too young to die. I cannot even think of your death.”

“My Marian,” he murmured, smiling at her besottedly. As a tide of sweet desire washed over him, he kissed her thoroughly, their tongues waltzing to a tune as old as heaven, to a rhythm of love dictated by their hearts. Only when Marian was limp in his arms, he lifted his mouth from hers. Looking into her flushed face, he lamented in a voice colored with regret, “I don’t want to be separated from you, but I have to.”

Marian pushed him away, and averted her eyes, running them over the sunset-crimsoned clearing. Her hopes to become Robin’s wife were dying together with the sun, and a blend of dismay and anguish inundated her. As her sad eyes trained on Robin, she entreated, “Robin, please don’t go to the Holy Land. I want you to stay and wed me. Don’t deprive us of the happy future we can have together here, in Locksley.”

A smile flitted across his face. “My love, nobody will rob us of the chance to be together!”

“No, Robin!” Marian cried in a broken voice, her countenance darkened by a subliminal presentiment of doom. “War is frightful and dangerous; you might be killed in battle.”

Robin laughed off her concern. “You worry too much, Marian. Please, calm down,” he said in soothing tones. “I won’t die! I will come back, and then we will be together!”

“Don’t go,” she beseeched.

“I must,” Robin stated with a ring of finality.

Marian wrangled with Robin over his commitment to her and his people; he pontificated about duty and honor. Robin was pacing the clearing, gesticulating actively as he was trying to explain and justify his decision, but his reasons were beyond her comprehension. Truth be told, she didn’t even listen to him, her mind reeling in disbelief that he would desert her. But Robin kept telling her about the Crusade over and over again, and it dawned upon Marian that he would leave in spite of her pleas.

Robin closed the distance between them and extended his arms to wrap them around her, but she stepped out of his embrace and faced him with a belligerent gleam in her eyes. She didn’t want him to touch her anymore, for he had lost the right to be with her.

Marian demanded brusquely, “Tell me the truth, Robin. Why else are you going to Acre?”

Robin wasn’t a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, but he felt that he needed to lift the veil of his inner realm for a moment. After a moment’s dithering, he spoke calmly. “Marian, I inherited my title and lands many years ago, after my father’s death in the fire. Since then, I have been pampered, loved, and spoiled by your father and all others.” A shadow crossed his face. “I haven’t done anything to deserve the privileges I possess from birth.”

She shot him a fulminating glance. “You want glory, right?”

The thought of fame wasn’t uppermost in his mind, but Robin was unable to restrain his vainglorious nature and his thirst for adventure. “You are right; I do want glory. King Richard is a noble, fierce, and courageous warrior king.” A smile manifested on his features. “Our liege’s name will be echoing through many centuries. He will become the greatest hero in Christendom when he captures the holy city!”

An incensed Marian barely resisted the urge to slap him hard across his smug face. “You want to become a legendary general. You covet everlasting glory for yourself and fame. That’s why you are intending to leave for the Holy Land.”

He stepped to her but stopped, hesitating. “Marian, you know that Prince Richard favored me before his accession to the throne, and we became friends.”

“And because of your friendship with the king you want to leave England?”

His own temper hardly better held in than hers, Robin sighed in frustration, and his face set in a hard line. “No,” he said slowly, emphatically. “There are many reasons, Marian!”

Marian probed, “The king needs you, doesn't her?”

Robin countered, “How can I abandon my liege when he will be doing God’s work by liberating the Holy Land?” He sighed heavily.  At once enthused again, he blurted out, “King Richard praised me for my fighting skills with a bow and a sword. He himself knighted me in Poitou. I want to fight!”

“So, is it your final decision?”

"Yes," he stated firmly.

"Very well," she responded tonelessly.

Robin flashed a cheeky smile. "Will you marry me before I leave Nottingham, Marian?"

Robin looked so hopeful and so dear that she struggled against the passion building inside her. Looking at him was like drowning in a cauldron of melting heat; like trying to struggle against the current of a mountain torrent but being pulled under by invisible forces of destiny. She craved to be with his wife, but if he naively thought that she would assent to his proposal, he was mistaken. He disappointed her, and she doubted the sincerity of his feelings.

"I won't marry you, Robin of Locksley," Marian affirmed with an air of categorical denial. "You are choosing glory over having a family with me."

”Your father thinks that I should marry you before my departure. He promised that he would arrange our urgent nuptials."

“I don't care what my father says!” she shouted wrathfully, fighting the impulse to rush to him and hammer her fists into his head with a feral fury.

His features painted golden by the rays of the sinking sun, Robin looked so very young and so incredibly handsome, and she found it difficult to tear her gaze from him. She discovered that the abuses she had yearned to heap upon his head moments ago were scattering before the reality of the powerful effect he had on her. But her wounded hubris and her sensible mind were in direct and violent collision with the demands of her angry heart.

A disheartened Robin simply asked, “Is it your final decision, Marian?”

Some of her quick fury dying, Marian regarded him indecisively. She was still affronted with his actions, but her insides were melting, going molten, as she thought of the love she could throw away. Love and pride vied with one another, the latter won out as her practical little brain violently rejected his request outright. “Yes,” she confirmed.

He returned imperturbably, “You are so exasperatingly stubborn about certain things, my love. It seems that we will have to wait until my return.” He felt like the wings of his dreams were broken, like his heart was fractured. Concealing his hurt beneath a mask of arrogance, he concluded, “Then, I will marry you.”

Now Robin resembled a haughty courtier, not a young man who fascinated her and stirred in her emotions that had enthralled her and caused her to forget where she was in his presence. Her hands resting on her hips, her chin raised in defiance, her features stormy, she affirmed, “Robin of Locksley, I wish you to achieve the glory you crave.”

Loving her, wanting her, and needing the innocence, warmth, goodness, and sweetness she represented, Robin didn’t want to lose Marian. He endeavored to talk sense into her again. “Marian, I wish you to be proud of me. I attained knighthood, but it is not enough.”

“You are a fool if you believe that I need your glory, Robin.” She paused, her emotions thrown into complete confusion by his heartfelt statement. In a handful of heartbeats, her resolved solidified. “Go fight in the Holy Land with your king. I don’t care if you don’t come back from war.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

A shaken Robin gaped at her. “What?”

“I won’t wait for you,” Marian gritted out in an outburst of blinding rage.

Robin looked shocked, clearly waiting for her apology. “I don’t believe that you think so. Is it normal for you to want me dead only because I am planning to do my duty to England?”

Marian was at a loss for a moment. She knew that she was treating him rudely, but she didn’t wish to apologize; she owed him nothing. “If you want glory, then forget about me.”

“Think before you speak,” he admonished.

Her umbrage took the shape of the bubble of bitterness and fury that burst out of her as she accused, “Robin, you don’t love me as much as you have been claiming. I am breaking our betrothal. I will never marry you. The bond between us is broken irrevocably.”

Marian slipped her engagement ring off her finger. With bated breath, Robin watched her trace the silver ring featuring a massive sapphire center carved in the shape of a flower. Then, she threw the ring in his face, smiling with feigned malice, although her heart was burning to cinders. She wasn’t relieved at all, and a feeling of irretrievable loss instantaneously seized her like a vice, squeezing out of her all emotions but shame. She had loved the exquisite ring so much, and she wore it proudly; she also treasured this ring as Robin told her that it had belonged to his mother who had died giving birth to him.

Robin didn’t flinch at her ruthless actions and didn’t pick up the ring, his expression torn between cold amusement and a semblance of vexation. The wind soughed through the trees, making them rattle like bones in the hollow where his bleeding heart used to be. At the thought that she had just renounced their betrothal, Robin submerged into the night full of shudders, menaces, and woes which seemed macabre.

A heartbroken Robin felt pangs of pain knifing through his whole being. She rejected him in such a humiliating manner! His fists balled into tight balls as a blast of rage came crashing down upon him like an eagle on its prey. He pulled himself together and supplied icily, “How courteous of you, Marian! Wishing a knight to die on the battlefield is the most dignified thing which any proper lady can do. Most definitely, I won’t force you to wait for my return.”

Marian’s heart was thudding painfully against her ribs. At first, she was so amazed that she couldn’t utter a word. He was so distant and aloof! She knew he was hurting, but it was only his fault. “You will be fine on the Crusade.”

“I will,” he promised with an air of detachment.

Although Robin looked cold in the extreme, there was such endless sadness in his eyes that Marian inwardly shuddered. Once more, the voice in the back of her head mocked her that her beloved Robin had been left with deities of love and war in a moral desert and had opted for a military adventure in the Holy Land over a family life with her in Locksley.  That was the naked truth of her existence, and everything else meant nothing, Marian mused.

“Good luck, Robin,” Marian wished him, this time from the bottom of her heart. Her voice was not harsh or acrid; it was soft and gentle, like a featherlight touch of a lover. The charm of her voice did not fail to convey her real thoughts – she wished him to come back alive.

Steeling herself against the guilt that overwhelmed her, she pivoted and stalked away from her first love, disappearing among the trees, where the sun had just dipped below the hill. The sunset would probably forever be a symbol of Marian’s rejection for Robin, together with the ring she had returned him. The curtain of darkness draped itself over the forest, casting Robin’s soul into the opaque void of the universe.

Robin's face twisted in pain mingled with despair as he watched her mount and ride away. Pain percolated him to the very depths of his heart, to the most hidden recesses of his mind. He crouched and picked up the ring; he straightened his spine, staring at the ring in his palm.

Marian didn’t understand Robin, but it was partly his fault as his pride prevented him from revealing to her that he had chosen war in order to prove to everyone and, most importantly, to himself that he was a strong man who deserved respect and love of his king and the people. He was sure that fighting for England and the king would help him achieve that. For a split second, Robin regretted that he hadn’t told Marian the truth, but he swiftly banished that thought. He couldn’t show his inner insecurities and fears to the world and even to Marian.

His spirit as leaden as smoke from a chimney, Robin placed the ring into the pocket of his doublet. He swiveled and strode towards his horse that was tied to a tree on the other side of the clearing. He hopped into the saddle and galloped away, cloaked in an aura of sorrow and woes. His relationship with Marian had been over, and now he had to think about war and the king. Wishing to put the distance between Marian and him, Robin departed from Nottingham in haste the next day after their meeting in the woods.

Dreams of the two young lovers and their hopes for the future were shattered; they were smashed against the walls of reality. They would probably never see each other again, and their betrothal was over thanks to Marian’s outburst. Deities of love – mute, sullen, and portentous – sent a gust of wind through the woods, a mournful echo of their broken hearts. Yet, their love was stronger than death and would always live in the greenery of Sherwood.

§§§

Lost in her memories, Marian was trembling all over in anxiety mingled with fear and sorrow. She continued brooding over her relationship with Robin. Robin had left for the Holy Land more than seven years ago, and they had parted a bad note. Even now, after so many years, she didn’t forget the pain that Robin’s selfish decision had inflicted on her young, tender heart. Robin had broken her heart, and his decision had injured her pride. She had been angry at him throughout many years. Yet, she had secretly feared that Robin could have been killed in the Holy Land and that she would never see him again.

Over time, she had been unable to completely forget her first love for the young boy who had once chased after her across the fields and had taken her on his wild adventures in the woods. She had missed him terribly, remembering the happy moments they had spent together in Sherwood, Knighton, and Locksley. She had also remembered Much, Robin’s loyal manservant, who had grown up with them and had always been their companion in their mischievous games. She had often wept in the solitude of her bedroom over her shattered dreams to become Robin’s wife.

Every day Marian had fervently prayed for his survival in the bloody war and for his safe return, though she would have never told about that even to her father. And one day her prayers had been answered: she had seen Robin on the front steps of Knighton Hall. As soon as her gaze fell on Robin, she had realized that she hadn’t forgotten him. Great relief had coursed through her as he had returned alive and not crippled, looking even too handsome for a battle-hardened Crusader. She had known then that she had still loved him, though she hadn’t welcomed him with open arms.

After Robin had saved four innocent men and had been outlawed, Marian had agreed to become his spy on the sheriff and Gisborne. They had been involved in many risky plans, working together to undermine Vaisey’s authority in the most extraordinary and unprecedented ways. Robin had acted openly as Robin Hood and she had helped him in the shadows as his spy, also taking care of the people as the Nightwatchman. They had also worked to stop the Black Knights and thwart the sheriff’s treacherous plans to kill King Richard.

In some time, Robin and Marian had reconciled. Marian’s old affection for her childhood love had revived and blossomed, but there had been so many obstacles between them that it had seemed God didn’t wish them to be together, or perhaps not in this life. Marian had already developed a deep affection for Guy of Gisborne, which hadn’t perished after Robin's return. As a result, she found herself torn between Robin and Guy, although she had never told Robin about that.

Marian had thought that she had loved Robin with all her heart, and she had believed that he had also loved her. Every time they had thought of what they had lost in the years of their separation, they had felt as though they had fallen into emptiness, with pain and regret roaring around them. She had been happy when he had finally proclaimed his love for her, even if he had done that in an extremely strange fashion: he had confessed in his feelings when she had asked him to spare Allan’s life despite his betrayal, saying that she didn’t want him to taint their love with the traitor’s blood. She had rejoiced that Robin had finally been candid with her.

Robin had given Marian an engagement ring featuring a large oval cut emerald surrounded by a sunburst of diamonds. She had liked it, but it was large and rather extravagant, while she had liked something more elegant; yet, she had treasured the ring because it was Robin’s ring.

Robin had proposed to her in the strangest and most eccentric fashion – over a fresh grave of the king’s one-legged messenger who had arrived in Locksley only to find out that Robin had been outlawed and had lived in the forest; the messenger had escaped from Locksley, pursued by Gisborne's guards and Allan, one of whom had mortally wounded him.

Marian and Robin had agreed that they would find Lardner, a Sultan's prized bird, warn King Richard about the Black Knights, defeat the sheriff, and then get married. They had managed to contact King Richard, informing him about his brother's intentions to steal his throne and hoping that he would return to England. Yet, that was all they did together, and everything else would always be a dream, for the siege had changed everything as Marian's marriage to Guy made their life paths diverge.

Marian sighed as her mind drifted back to one of the most tragic days in her life. Several months ago, her father, Sir Edward Fitzwalter of Knighton, had been killed by the Canon of Birkley after they had taken the Pact of Nottingham from Vaisey’s bedroom. It should have been the day of the great victory for them, for they had finally had the proof of the Black Knights’ treacherous plots against the king in their possession. Yet, it had become the day of the great defeat.

Robin had offered Marian to leave the castle, and they had ridden off into the sunset into the woods. Not wishing the outlaws to see her in a state of distress and despair, she had asked Robin to spend some time alone, and they had headed to the heart of Sherwood, to their favorite clearing.

On the way to the forest, Marian had been fighting off tears that had threatened to spill down her cheeks. As soon as they had dismounted and she had recognized where he had taken her, a nostalgic feeling had gripped her, and the tears had finally won. Trembling all over, she had broken into heart-wrenching sobs. In one swift movement, Robin's strong arms had enveloped her into a hearty, comforting embrace. She shut her eyes and let anguished sobs escape her, repeating her father's name over and over again as she wept.

In an ominous silence, they had sat under a meadow, her face buried into the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped around her waist. It had been such a grueling and dreadful day, and she had been incredibly sad. Soon her sobs had become quieter, but she didn't speak, luxuriating in a warm feeling of contentment spreading through her and the feel of his hand gently stroking the top of her head. She had always hated being weak, but it had been the day when she could do nothing with herself; she had been relieved that Robin had been with her that evening.

“I like Sherwood so much,” Robin whispered. He smiled as her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. “The forest is like a dream world for me. When I see the woods stretching all around me like the sea, I feel that I am free and happy.” He swallowed heavily. “I can even forget that I fought in the Holy Land, that I saw so many horrors, and that I killed many people there.”

Marian lifted her eyes to his face. “You have always liked the forest, and we spent much time here in childhood.” She sighed as she felt his lips on the tender spot behind her ear.

“Yes, we did.” He smiled languidly.

She enjoyed that he hugged her tightly. “Our early youth was a golden time – carefree and happy.”

Suddenly, Robin felt exposed and vulnerable, highly aware of today’s events, and he stiffened involuntarily, his one hand hugging Marian, the other sliding to the hilt of his scimitar. “And yet, the forest is the harsh reality for you, for me, and everyone in Robin Hood’s gang.”

“Yes.” She combed her fingers through her hair.

He sighed. “We have to live here until the sheriff is deposed.” His head dropped on the top of her head as if he were crushed by despair. “Every time I have a moment of loneliness in the woods, I remember that we have a lot of work to do and that I must be strong to help the people, unmask the sheriff’s plots against the king, and protect you and my friends.”

Looking at Marian’s beautiful, tear-stained face, he felt desire stir in his loins, and he pulled her to him, then kissed her on her lips. Although she had been weeping before, now she was overwhelmed, beyond a conscious thought, and she responded to his kiss. Her mouth opened under his and for one sweet moment, as he held her so tightly, the world snuffed out. There was only this man, this girl, and the woods around, and nothing else existed. But then Robin broke the kiss and, smiling at her, leaned back against the trunk of a tree; he wrapped his arms around her, and she relaxed into his embrace.

“Robin,” Marian called his name after a long pause, a quiet whisper so filled with anguish that Robin's heart constricted in his chest.

"Shhh," Robin said softly, stroking her hair. "You are not alone – I am with you."

She took a deep steadying breath, willing herself not to cry. She exhaled sharply and pressed the back of her hand against her eyes, but tears were still flooding out of her eyes like a waterfall. "I told my father that he should have been helping us." She swallowed hard. "I said that he was weak and that I was ashamed of him."

He cupped her face, looking into her eyes. “He loved you, Marian. He was proud of you.”

Biting her bottom lip, she blinked. “You think so?”

“Yes,” he assured her. "Your father died for England and for King Richard. He is a true hero."

"But he died," she murmured.

He brushed her lips with his in a tender yearning, then planted a kiss on her smooth forehead. “Marian, I am sorry that I didn’t save him. I should have predicted that the Canon of Birkley would try to kill me. I should have shot this traitor before he attacked me and your father made a desperate attempt to save me, in the end only being killed.”

"It is not your fault," Marian said.

 “You really don’t blame me, do you?” He looked hopeful.

“No, I don’t.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, skimming his fingers through the dark tresses of her long, glossy hair.

“Don’t blame yourself for what you are not responsible for.” She pressed her forehead to his chest.

Robin shut his eyes. "You are breathtakingly beautiful, Marian." His voice was a deep, low baritone. "I fear that if I open my eyes, it will be a dream and you won't be with me."

A dejected Marian lifted her gaze at him. "I am glad that you are here."

"I want you to stay with me in the woods, my love."

Robin kissed the nape of her head. She raised her watery eyes and stared at him, her own face splashing into a lovely smile in the response to the tender smile she saw on his face. She glanced into his eyes, and what she saw there, the intensity, made her heart beat faster. He bent his head down and captured her lips with his. Her eyes closed as she let him take her mouth and then he kissed her throat, and her lips once again. Urgently, her body held tight to his, and she enjoyed his kisses coming faster and faster, deeper and harder – until her blood hammered so noisily she felt she would faint.

Marian trembled, feeling as if her heart would crash through her thorax or stop altogether. Emotions – passion, despair, curiosity, and pain – overwhelmed her to the core, and she lost herself in his strong arms, knowing that his one kiss could take away all her pain and anguish.

"I want to forget about everything," she murmured, gazing into his eyes darkened in passion.

Robin broke the kiss and smiled at her. "I would love to be alone with you in the whole world." Then he slightly pulled away and looked at her, mesmerized by and the beauty of her sapphire blue eyes brimming with tears.

Marian glanced away. "You know that we cannot be together now."

He sighed regretfully. "I know. We have to wait until the king returns."

"Until the king returns," she echoed.

A short silence followed. Enjoying the moment immensely, Robin lowered his eyes and had taken in her appearance. Her face was sweetly flushed, the shimmering sapphire blue eyes large and expressive, and her soft mouth was far too appealing.

She smiled at him lovingly, and her hand stroked his cheek. "Why are you staring at me so?"

He let out a quiet laugh. "I like what I see."

“You do?” Her voice quivered.

He chuckled. “Today you definitely look better than on the day of my return to Nottingham when I came to Knighton and you threatened to shoot me from your bow if I didn’t leave.”

She smiled. "Well, one day you will pay, Robin of Locksley!"

Robin stared down at her, smiling with a tender, loving smile. She rarely saw such a sincere smile on his face, for he usually grinned wickedly and flashed his cheeky smiles here and there, teasing and mocking everyone. But now his expression was absolutely unguarded and sincere.

He smiled at her affectionately. "You are so beautiful. You are even more beautiful than in my dreams."

She gave him her most dazzling smile. "You are also beautiful, my handsome Lord of Locksley."

"Too beautiful," Robin said huskily, an enigmatic smile on his lips. "Dangerously beautiful."

Her fingers were moving through his hair and down his neck. "Robin," she stretched out his name, as if he were savoring the words on her tongue. "Oh, Robin…"

His lips met hers in a deep, hungry kiss while his fingers wandered over her palms. "God in Heaven, Marian," he said breathlessly, feeling dizziness overcome him. "Marian…"

"Yes?" she whispered breathlessly.

Robin kissed her for a long, long time, each kiss more passionate, more explicit, and more possessive. His hands roamed over her body, heat and hunger burning through him, driving him half mad with need. He had probably never been more aroused in his life, for it was the first time when he and Marian were so close to losing their sanity in each other’s arms. He knew that he had to stop now, or he would be unable to control himself soon. His hunger for her made him bold and relentless, wanting to give her pleasure and comfort, but then he stopped and pulled away.

“Marian…” he said cautiously.

Marian looked almost hurt with his actions, for her disappointment was acute. She pulled him to her and kissed him on the lips, her hands clutching the collar of his shirt. Robin moaned and kissed her back, the vibration from the sound multiplying her enjoyment.

Between kisses, they looked at each other, trying to put a name on whatever it was burning up the air between them, and Robin again thought that they needed to stop. He saw that she wanted him, needed him at that moment. He had wanted her desperately for so long, not because he hadn’t been with a woman for a long time but because she was Marian and he loved her.

His eyes darkened when he heard her breath quicken. “This cannot continue this way.”

“Robin,” Marian whispered. Then she put her right hand under his shirt, caressing his warm flesh.

His lips were a breath from hers, his heart thundering. "Are you sure?"

She felt his lips, firm and tender, brushing against hers. "I cannot be alone. Not today."

"Marian," he groaned.

She kissed him on the mouth, and he kissed her back. He slightly pushed her back against the tree and continued kissing her, his lips traveling down her alabaster throat.

Counter to his actions, he tore his mouth away from hers. “Marian,” he panted. “Are you absolutely, positively sure this is what you want?”

“I want this, Robin,” she told him with utter and complete confidence. “I want us to be together.”

For a long time, he didn’t respond, looking into her eyes as if he were searching there for the answer to a very important question; he was hesitating to proceed to a full intercourse. She also remained silent, annoyed that he wanted to be reassured, once and for all. In an instant, he smiled at her, the sort of smile that let her know he had already made up his mind.

He pressed his hand more insistently against her back and moved his mouth from hers to brush his lips over her jaw and her cheek and her chin, then nuzzling the sensitive flesh where her throat joined her collarbone. Then he captured her lips with his, and kissed her slowly, achingly, again and again until he heard her make a sound - a sigh, a tiny breath of sensual pleasure.

Robin drew away slightly, again. “Marian, do you understand what we are about to do?”

Surprised and dumbfounded with his question, Marian stared at him, her heart pounding harder and harder. She wanted him and needed him, for he was able to give a feeling of her security and become her shelter from pain. And she made up her mind.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I need you.”

He wrapped her arms around her shoulders and held her tightly. “You cannot imagine how much I want you, Marian. I have never wanted any other woman as much as I want you now.”

They stared at each other intently for a few seconds. She licked her already moist lips and left them parted. His eyes focused on them, and then he quickly but smoothly took her face in his hands, pulling her closer and then covering her lips with his. Then, between kisses and caresses, Robin threw his cloak on the grass, and she lay back there, inviting him to join her. They hastily discarded their clothes, lay on the ground, and gave themselves to love.

Robin rolled over on top of her, settling himself between her legs, and Marian glanced into his eyes as he gently invaded into her body, giving her his most tender and most charming smile. She barely noticed a brief prickle of pain, astonished that it went so smoothly and almost without pain. He filled her to the brink, in a way she had never felt full before, and she moaned in delight at the sense of completion that flooded her. Robin had paused, not moving and staring at her, and she stared back at him in astonishment. Then he bent his head and kissed her again, long and hard and deep.

They felt a fire burning in their blood, their bodies aching for physical release. Deep, powerful ache coursed through their bodies, and they plunged into dark, pleasurable oblivion. With every penetration, they joined more completely, until one final, hurtling thrust resulted in the pinnacle as their world exploded into a crescendo of colors and pleasure. He collapsed beside her and held her close, burying his face in the curve where her shoulder met her neck.

Quietly, she said, “Are we really together, or is it just a dream?”

He nuzzled her hair affectionately again. “It is our beautiful dream,” he told her.

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “It was–” Her words halted there, however, because he kissed her.

Robin smiled down at her. "It is alright. It won't hurt the next time," he promised. He kissed her again, but only briefly. He tore his lips away from hers with excruciating slowness, catching her lower lip between his teeth and tugging gently. Then, with a last luscious lick of his tongue, he drew back.

"Well," Marian drawled, with a small smile on her lips swollen from his kisses. "I don’t have much experience in this, but, in all fairness, I think that you are a good kisser."

"Correction," Robin said with a smug smile on his face. "I am the best kisser."

"Robin," she breathed his name.

"I do love you, Marian," he whispered as he ran his arms over the curves and planes of her body.

"I love you, too." Marian's arms encircled his back.

Driven the deep feeling of her love for Robin, but perhaps more by the urgent need to take away her pain and despair in the moment of weakness, Marian had let him take her maidenhead in the depths of the forest, breaching the rules of proper conduct for a noblewoman.

What had happened between them in the woods had been never repeated while Marian had lived in the forest. She and Robin had been friendly and affectionate and often amorous, but they hadn’t been together again. She had felt that it had been the right thing to stay physically away from Robin, and he hadn’t reminded her of the only time when they had forgotten about the world in each other’s arms. She had spent several weeks in Sherwood, but, eventually, she had gone back to the castle; at that moment she had already been engaged to Robin.

After her return to the castle, many things had changed, for Marian had realized that she hadn’t wanted to live in the forest, even with Robin. The bitter feeling of dissatisfaction with her relationship had suddenly entered her life. Her clandestine encounters with Robin in the woods, in the castle, or somewhere in the town hadn’t been enough for her happiness, the king had been away and it hadn’t been clear when he would come back. With Robin, her future had seemed uncertain, and she had feared that they would never be able to marry and have a normal life.

§§§

There was another man in Marian’s life that made her heart leap – Sir Guy Crispin Fitzcorbet of Gisborne. Guy was the only man who greatly attracted her and for whom, in spite of all his faults and troubles he could deliver so freely, she still retained affection, respect, admiration and desire to trust him. Yet, she denied the existence of her affection for him for so long.

Marian admitted, only to herself and reluctantly, that she had felt guilty of betraying Guy when she had accepted Robin's marriage proposal and especially after her recent experience with Robin in the woods. She had been very disappointed with herself that she had had to lead a double life and pretend that she had been interested in Guy as much as he was in her, though, truth be told, it hadn’t been a show of pure pretense because she had been really affected by Guy's attention to her.

Her mind traveled to the moment that had distanced her further from Robin. In several weeks after her return to the castle, Marian and Robin had met near the same meadow in the forest. As always, Robin had been happy to see her, flashing his familiar cheeky smiles, laughing and teasing her. Marian had been delighted to see him, too, enjoying every minute they could have spent together in the woods, in isolation from the whole word that conspired to separate them.

Robin scooped her into his arms. "Marian, I love you," he said in a shaking voice. "You mean so much to me. I cannot imagine what I will do if I lose you." His voice died away and he kissed her on the lips. "My most cherished dream is to marry you."

He felt her body stiffen in his arms, and then she tried to twist her head away. Startled by her unexpected protest, Robin immediately dropped his arms to his sides, and, half-sobbing, she moved away from him.

"Marian, what happened?" He sounded astonished.

Her cheeks burning, she stared at him, embarrassment flooding her. "We cannot marry, Robin," she said stonily.

He laughed lightly. "My love, I would be happy to marry you tomorrow." He stepped to her and took her trembling hands in his. "We don't need to wait until the king returns. I can try to find a priest who will marry us."

Her expression troubled, Marian gazed at him. "Robin, I don't think that you understand me… We cannot marry now when we can die every moment and every day. We have to wait." She drew a deep breath, seeking more arguments against his words. "Besides, no priest will marry us."

He prevented her from speaking by placing a finger against her lips. "I will think of something." He smiled. "I will find a priest. Someone will be ready to marry Robin Hood and his lady."

She shook her head. "We cannot, Robin. The king is not here."

He nodded. "I realize that the timing is not perfect, but we are better to marry right now."

"Why, Robin?"

"We are betrothed, and we… have been waiting for so long."

Marian felt her blood boiling; she still didn't feel comfortable with what they had recently done. "Are you mad? We cannot marry now. What our life will be like?"

Robin stared at her incredulously. "We are betrothed. We love each other."

"We are engaged, but we… cannot marry now," she replied abruptly.

"As you wish," Robin conceded, resigned. He took a step to her and then pulled her to him. "But I am ready to face a horde of savages intent upon my demise in order to be with you."

She frowned angrily. "I think I will leave now. I must return to the castle."

"You want to leave me?"

"I cannot be absent for so long," she explained.

He sighed. "Well, I understand, but I don’t want to let you go." He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding into her mouth and dueling with hers.

She struggled to push him away. "Stop, please stop," she said impatiently.

He looked bewildered. "Are you alright? What did I do wrong?"

"I am fine, Robin. I think I should leave."

Robin looked hurt. "I think I don't deserve such harsh treatment."

"You deserved it many years ago. You often deserve it even now."

"What?" he asked incredulously.

Her temper spiked and, her eyes bright with anger, she pointed her finger at him. "I just don't know what you will do after we are married."

"What do you mean?"

"I am not sure that you will stay in Locksley if the king asks you, you will go to fight another war," Marian said straightforwardly. “Once you chose the king over me. I fear it may happen again.”

Robin sighed in frustration. "I thought we have already discussed that," he replied calmly. "It was my duty to follow my liege to war. I am his vassal and swore my fealty to him." He had told her the same many years ago. And yet, there were many noble and chivalrous reasons why he had decided to fight in the Holy Land.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, you had to do your duty to England and the king.”

Robin's eyes darkened in anger. "All the years in the Holy Land were difficult and bloodthirsty. I wanted glory, but I realized that the battlefield is the last place you will find it." He sighed deeply. "But I cannot deny that I had to join the Crusade, though I regret I went to war and that I lost you.”

“To do your duty,” she said with a sigh.

“Yes," Robin said confidently; there was no trace of doubt in his voice. "And I did a lot for King Richard. I protected him and saved his life many times, and I did that very well, for I managed to keep our king alive and almost unscratched after five years of non-stop fighting. So many people wanted to kill Richard, and it was my duty to protect him."

Robin of Locksley acted in a typical fashion. He bragged, giving a long list of his heroic deeds he had done for King Richard and for England in the Holy Land, although he acknowledged that he had committed horrible crimes in the name of God and for the glory of the king. Marian knew that Robin had been the king's grand favorite on the Crusade, but she disliked how he presented that – by highlighting that he was the king's close friend, trustworthy and devoted, loyal to his liege even in death. He positioned himself as the king's man and the people's hero, but she questioned whom Robin served more – the King of England or the people.

She held his gaze. "You did many great things for King Richard. He is still alive mainly thanks to you, and nobody can deny that.”

He smiled haughtily. “Exactly.”

She looked away. "Yet, Robin, you abandoned me and the people to fight the war that cannot be won and for the king who prefers to fight bloody wars thousands of miles away. Now you are turning a blind eye to the lack of the king's interest in England and in his people."

Marian was loyal to the rightful King of England, but she didn't idolize him. Unlike her, Robin viewed Richard only as a hero and was proud of his close relationship with the king. She was increasingly irritated with Robin's blind, unconditional loyalty to the absent monarch. The constant talk about the king, Robin's loyalty to him, and Guy's role in regicide infuriated her. It seemed to her that Robin had thought at first about the king and England and only then about her, a woman whom he loved but still deserted, choosing the king and glory over their love.

He gave her a furious glare. "Never say that about King Richard!" His face fell as the thought struck him. "You are talking about our king like… Gisborne…"

"I am stating the truth," she parried.

His face turned ghostly pale, and he shut his eyes for a moment. He felt mortified and bitterly disappointed to hear her words. "I sacrificed my love to do my duty to the king and England. I sacrificed my titles and lands to help the people," he declared with pride.

“Sweet Heaven,” she murmured, annoyed at the repetitive drill he always sang. “You have told me about that many times.”

Robin glanced away. “I want you to remember one thing: I am not going to tolerate insults towards the King of England and your resentment towards me because of my loyalty to him."

“Robin,” she said in soothing tones, “I admire you for your kind, brave, and compassionate nature.”

Robin’s expression softened. “I cannot watch the people being oppressed and forced to live in tyranny.”

She let out a tiny smile. “But we are helping the people as much as we can.”

“But the people like Gisborne always stand in our way of helping the poor.”

“The sheriff is viler than Gisborne.” She shot him an irritated look. “If the king hadn’t left for the Holy Land so soon after the coronation, the sheriff wouldn’t have taken my father’s offices.”

“Why are you always defending Gisborne?” Robin took a deep breath, feeling anger stir in his heart. "Gisborne is a wretched traitor who doesn’t deserve to live.”

She made a face. “Robin, please stop.”

“No, I won’t,” Robin fired back. “Gisborne is a monster!” His gaze turned so hateful that she glanced away. “He is unable to think about others. He is obsessed only with power and wealth. He is a murderer and a villain. There is nothing good in him, and his heart is entirely black and evil."

Marian gave Robin a hard glare. She had enough of arrogance and bravado. "And you think that you are a better man than Guy of Gisborne?" she taunted, too angry to watch her tongue. "You are always saying that Guy is an evil man and a traitor, but you don't know him at all.” She raised her voice. “He is not what he seems at first glance. He can become a better man."

Robin’s eyes blazed with anger. "You have no right to compare me with Gisborne!" he shouted in rage. "I am a loyal subject of the king and an honest man! Gisborne is a murderer of many innocent people and a foul traitor to the crown!” His face contorted in disgust. “We are very different!"

Scoffing at his expression of outrage, Marian spoke accusingly. "You are the king's loyal man and subject, but that doesn't make you loyal to your people whom you deserted for five years. Your people were oppressed and starved whilst you earned your glory in the Holy Land and killed the Saracens."

He struggled to keep the hot, angry words that crowded his throat from spewing forth, but he failed. "Good God!" he finally burst out. "You don't know what I lived through! You don't know how much I sacrificed to keep our king alive! It was not only about glory!"

"Robin, I admire you for your staunch loyalty to the king, and I fear I cannot imagine how much you endured in the Holy Land," she replied flatly. "But it was your own choice. Everything is a choice."

He lowered his head, and a mirthless chuckle came from him. He slowly raised his eyes to her and looked into her eyes. "I was mistaken that war would make me a man. Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime." He sighed. "It was my choice to join the Crusade, and if I had to choose again, I would probably do the same, just because I had to protect the king and because I wanted to bring some humanity in the foreign lands destroyed by death and bloodshed."

Annoyed and angry, she clenched her fists. "You love the king more than me and your people. And don't say that you have never wanted glory and recognition; I know that you do many things to satisfy your selfish desire to be loved by the people."

He arched a brow. "You think so?"

"Yes, I do," she said brusquely. "What you have done for the king and England is admirable, and I am sure that nobody else can do that. But you have deserted your people and me, and I wonder whether one day it may happen again." She sighed heavily. "Guy doesn't have the qualities that drove you, Robin, away from home, to the king's side."

Red-hot anger pounded like lava through his body, beating back any common sense he might have possessed. Robin came to her, and his hands closed around her upper arms as he dragged her against him. "Why are you bringing Gisborne into our conversation? What do you feel for him?"

She shook her head, both terrified and annoyed. "Nothing. Nothing." She felt a strange tremor of half fright, half pleasure coursing through her at the sound of Guy's name.

“Remember, Marian, that you should never compare me with Gisborne,” Robin said in a low voice that held no trace of humor.

They fumed, argued, and shouted, being embroiled in a heated and sarcastic argument that threatened to explode into a serious conflict. In the end, Marian walked away from Robin without saying goodbye to him, and he had willingly let her go. The verbal battle exhausted each of them.

After their quarrel in the forest, Robin sneaked into her bedroom the next evening. They talked only for several minutes: he inquired about the sheriff's plans and then tried to reconcile with Marian. She was disappointed that he had seemed to have been much more interested in the sheriff's plans and schemes than in their personal situation. He didn’t even apologize for the pestering and pompous speeches that had been the reason for their argument during their previous meeting.

They didn’t have much time to talk because Marian was expected to attend the feast in the great hall, together with Vaisey and Gisborne, as well as with some other nobles from the shire. She asked Robin to leave to avoid being discovered in case Guy came to her bedroom to escort her downstairs for the evening. Robin was jealous again, and they again argued. Then Guy came, and she distracted him to let Robin escape.

After the dinner, Marian discovered Robin in her bedroom. They discussed the sheriff's plans regarding taxes collection, and then Marian requested him to leave. She said that she didn't want him to be captured in her bedchamber, risking his life and safety again. In response, Robin only laughed and said that such a death would be stupid; Marian was again upset with him.

Marian looked at Robin. "If death in my bed is stupid, then what kind of death is not stupid?"

“I mean that death will be stupid if I am caught before I married you and saved the king.”

She sighed tiredly. “And which way of dying is not stupid?”

Robin grinned at her. "The most honorable death is to die for King Richard, for England, and for you, Marian, if I am saving your life or the king’s life," he responded with devilish confidence.

At that instant, Marian was ready to scream. The king again stood between them.

"Oh," she breathed.

Robin wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her temple. Then he glanced into her eyes, tenderly smiling at her. "We are fighters, my Marian,” he said emphatically. “I have always preferred a death in battle to a death in my own bed. The most honorable death is death for what you believe in and what you love – death for the king, England, and you."

Marian gave him a long, scrupulous look. "Robin, we are fighters, and I enjoy fighting for justice. But I am still a woman," she began. "A woman lives most of her life in a man-made world – at first in her father's world, then her husband's, and finally her son's. By her son's grace and with his permission, she continues living in one of his estates if her husband dies before her. And in our life, a husband often dies in a war before a woman."

"I know how easy death may come; I was fighting for five years and had many chances to die."

She closed her eyes, willing Robin to understand where she was going, but he didn't. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him. "We women feel things differently than you men do."

Robin smiled. "Women and men are not as different as you may think. Women take everything to their hearts, and so do many men."

Marian laid her finger against his lips to silence him when he started speaking. "No, Robin. Don't say anything. Just listen to me."

"Alright."

"I know that you survived terrible horrors, and I am happy that you came back alive. But you seem to think that I know less sorrow or pain than you. Yet, I had my share of pain when you were away. There are things that you don't know about me, like how I felt during these long five years. And don't forget what I went through without you."

"What do you want to say?"

"You love the king too much."

"Richard is my king and my friend," Robin declared proudly, his chin high, his eyes shining.

Anger simmered in her blood, and she suddenly wanted to lash out at him. She clamped her lips tightly, reclaiming her self-control. "His favorite," she said.

Failing to notice her anger, Robin shrugged nonchalantly. "If the king's friend might be called so, then I am a royal favorite. People say I am the king's grand favorite."

"Is that a reason why you love the king so much? Because you are his favorite and friend?" Her voice was devoid of her real emotions, but inside she seethed with anger.

"We must respect our lord and sovereign."

"Love and respect are different things, Robin."

Robin's face evolved into hardness. "I know."

"Oh, Robin."

"What?"

"Why are you so madly and so passionately loyal to Richard?"

Marian could easily guess that a sense of angry impotence had filled Robin at her question. He hated when someone not only questioned his loyalty to Richard but also pointed that he was extreme in his loyalty."Are you angry with me that I harbor a deep affection for our king?"

"I want to understand why Richard always comes first," she said calmly.

"Marian, it is difficult to explain," he responded quietly. "Richard played a prominent role in my life. He is England! And he is my king and my friend." He smiled. "If you saw Richard's attitude to me, you would understand reasons for my devotion to the king much better."

"Possibly yes."

Robin grinned, his expression sheepish. "Yeah, Richard… he is just Richard!"

"Robin, I don't want to be let down again."

His eyes widened with disbelief. "Why do you think so?"

"The king has a great influence on you, and he can take you from me again," she pointed out.

"Touché, Marian," Robin responded, laughing. "Please just don’t ask me whom I love more, for I would laugh very hard then." He smiled. “My love for you and for the king is different."

She released her breath in a hiss of frustration. "Of course."

There was a joyful glint in his blue eyes. "Aren't you jealous to King Richard?"

"Of course, no," she said, hiding her disappointment.

Marian remained perfectly still, masking her displeasure and exulting in the sensation of his strong, warm hands hugging hers. He didn’t understand her words, either perceiving them as a joke or feigning confusion, and it saddened her. Not wishing to argue, she allowed him to kiss her again. Later Robin left the castle; he escaped undetected, despite the fact thin the castle was humming with activity in the light of the feast nobles had in the great hall on that evening.

Marian was becoming more despondent as she attempted to analyze the conflict of loyalties between Robin’s loyalty to the king and his love for her. The king, Robin, and she were always together in Robin's world. She often wondered what place she occupied in the hierarchy of loyalties in Robin’s life – higher or lower than the king and the country. Whom did he love more – her or the king?

The next several days were routine. Marian had only one spontaneous encounter with Robin Hood on the market square. Later Sheriff Vaisey disappeared from Nottingham, which resulted in her near-death experience when Guy was by her side.

That day, when they were so close to death, Guy begged Marian to marry him on his knees. Guy told her what she had always wanted to hear from Robin: he said that he had wished to be there for her, to spend their last minutes together, to die together, only with her. There was no reference to the king and England, to the salvation of the most humble souls – the only words spoken were about dying for her and near her. To her utter shame, his words pleased Marian, melting her heart.

In contrast to her relationship with Robin, the King of England didn't stand between Marian and Guy, and she liked that very much. That was an important reason why she hadn't reject Guy's proposal. She was impressed and moved that Guy was ready to die only for her and with her, while he had an opportunity to escape. Guy proved that death for her was more important for him that death for the king and England.

When Robin brought the sheriff back to Nottingham from Sherwood, Guy smiled malevolently at the outlaw as he announced that he and Marian had married right before Robin's arrival. Will had already mysteriously disappeared, probably suspecting what she had done and condemning her for her actions.

Guy was happy that he had triumphed over Robin as he had taken everything from the former Lord of Locksley, leaving Robin defeated and heartbroken. Marian knew that she would never forget Robin's face at that moment: his eyes widened, his lips thinned, his facial muscles tensed. Then Robin feigned indifference, and his face broke into a usual cheeky grin, cool and teasing. He mocked them that they had chosen a very uncomfortable time for the wedding, hinting at the lack of white attire and the general mourning atmosphere in the town.

Robin pretended that he was insufferable, as if nothing could hurt him, and it goaded Marian into fury. Even though she understood that Robin had masterfully hidden his true feelings, it still infuriated her because this mask distanced her from him, depriving her of a chance to look into his naked soul. She always wanted him to be frank with her, but he had never opened up his heart to her entirely. In critical moments, he reverted to his old tactics of playing an invincible hero, whilst she wanted to see at least some natural emotion from him. It was so difficult to understand Robin!

§§§

Marian looked at the window but there was only the inky darkness outside. It was very late, and she expected Guy to come to her bedroom very soon. She hated the very idea of spending the wedding night in Robin’s old room. Now the agony was coming to the surface, overcoming the temptation to run away, and, in her misery, Marian couldn’t say which torment was the greater at that moment: the thought of her upcoming wedding night or that of her betrayal of Robin's love for her.

Her solitude gave her time to grieve and think about the recent events. The memories of her last conversation with Robin haunted her with persistence only possible under some divine power. After Guy's declaration of their marriage, Robin sneaked into her bedroom in the castle, before her supposed wedding night at Locksley Manor.

As Robin had looked at Marian, she shuddered in shock – his beautiful pale blue eyes were icily cold and yet unbelievably bright. There was no warmth in his eyes at all. He asked whether Guy had lied about their wedding. As she confirmed that she had become Lady Gisborne, she felt the arctic chilliness emanating from her young handsome lover. She knew that he felt betrayed and was hurting, as though she had stabbed him in his heart with her vile, insidious betrayal.

Robin glanced at Marian, his gaze cold and hard. At the confirmation that Marian had indeed married Guy, his mind went blank and unbearable pain smote him. His heart was bleeding. He was devastated. "Why did you do that, Marian? Why?" He shook his head. "I don't understand you."

"I thought that we would not survive the siege," she said quietly.

His face evolved into confusion. "What?"

She saw his eyes widen in amazement, but only for a moment, for he made a swift recovery of his face to coldness. "I was scared. I thought that you would not come and that we would die," she elaborated.

"You were afraid of death?" Robin asked, with a great uneasiness.

"Yes," she said truthfully. She felt the chill of his low, tense voice, and shuddered. "You are not afraid of death?"

"I got accustomed to death many years ago."

"In the Holy Land?"

He gave a curt nod. "Yes."

"Then you should understand my fear," she pointed out.

Robin's reaction surprised her – he merely laughed. He laughed, elegantly flicking dust from the sleeve of his green shirt, as though he had been unperturbed by her confession. "Oh, if you fear death, then you are less courageous than I thought," he said.

She sighed. "You, who fought the bloody war in the Holy Land where you could have been killed many times over and where you faced death every day and everywhere; you who returned from the Crusade promising peace after the fight with the sheriff is over; how is it that, nevertheless, that you cannot admit that I can be afraid of death, afraid of dying alone, without a chance to see you one last time?" She was affected by his reaction.

Robin felt the force and justice of the remark, but he couldn't admit his faults aloud. "Your marriage to Gisborne is no ordinary case. No fear of death can explain why you married this monster."

Marian shook her head. "You want to pretend that nothing can hurt you, but it is a mask. I did the same for a long time, taking an example from you. But now I want to take this chance and confess: I was so frightened during the siege that I was paralyzed by this fear, and I couldn’t think straight."

"Death is like a snake among flowers. It comes to you on tiptoes, when you don't expect it," Robin retorted philosophically. "But sometimes death is the only refuge for those who are too closely pressed, too bitterly afflicted, as far as both body and soul are concerned."

Marian was astonished, for she rarely saw this side of him, philosophical and contemplative. "Is your mask gone?"

He gave her a searching look, and as he understood the reason for her question, he laughed. "Astonished to see me from a new side? I see that I am right, but it doesn't matter now. I don't think that it is a suitable time to talk about our masks now."

"And I think it is," she shot back.

He shook his head. "No, it is not."

"Robin, I said that I wasn't thinking at those moments. My behavior was irrational," Marian said. "I am sorry that I hurt you. I am sorry that I went against your wishes and my own feelings for you. I want you to believe me that I did that unintentionally."

"Are you sorry?" he said with a touch of doubt.

"Yes, I am."

There was a long, ominous silence, occupied on Robin's part by restless fiddling with the vase that he had taken from a table. Then he broke the silence.

"When I learned about your marriage, I wanted to kill Gisborne on the spot, I admit, but I didn't do that, because of you and because of my unwillingness to take a human life in cold blood," he confessed. "I would have been sorry for the rest of my life if I disregarded my principles, for, in this case, I would have acted like Vaisey, Gisborne, and other likes of them."

Robin spoke those words quite slowly, without apparent anger, but in a heavy, exhausted voice and with a note of disgust. Marian felt her heart moved with desperate pity and deep love for him; she felt guiltier than before. For a moment, he looked like a man wounded to death.

"I am so proud of you, for you didn't become a murderer, especially not because of me."

He gave her a searching look. His heart torn between love, hatred, and sheer astonishment as he tried to understand how they had arrived at the final battlefield for their happy future and had lost without fighting with the sheriff, just because she had chosen Gisborne over him.  She seemed to him a strange, even frightening creature, for he didn't expect that she could ever marry Guy of Gisborne for any reason. She was someone whom he hadn't seen before – she was a complete stranger.

Robin no longer looked like a mortally wounded man, but like an angry, spoiled man. He recovered his usual overweening vanity. "You and he don’t deserve to be killed by me in cold blood," he snapped contemptuously. “I would have never sacrificed my principles of justice for the likes of you.”

"Will you ever forgive me?" she asked very softly, ignoring his harshness.

"Splendid, Marian, splendid! And now you ask for forgiveness," he said crossly.

"Will you ever be able to forgive me?" she repeated.

"Not now or maybe never," he said coldly, but truthfully.

"I understand." She lowered her head, in silent resignation. "I fear my plea for forgiveness is all I can offer you, at least for now, Robin."

He looked affronted. "And what about us? Was your love for me a lie? What about your pledge of love you gave me in the forest?" he asked almost rudely.

"It never was a lie, Robin."

"I am not so sure of that," Robin parried. He began pacing the room, then stopped near her and raised her chin, looking right into her eyes. "Do you understand what you did? Did you think about the consequences?" He was very angry. He craved to shout and make a scandal, but he had to be quiet because he was in the castle and risked being discovered.

"What is done is done."

"You ruined our chances to be together!" He laughed humorlessly. "Or do you love Gisborne, this traitor who planned to kill our king? He once told me that you were stirred by him. Was he correct?"

"Even if I am stirred by him, it is out of your business," Marian snapped, irritated that he guessed at least half of the truth. She felt anger simmer in her blood. She hated his tart mockery at such important moments.

"It’s my deal!"

"It was your deal," she amended, the blue flame flaring up in her eyes.

"We had a chance to be happy!"

"And what chances do we have, Robin? We have only bleak future. You are an outlaw. If I am discovered as the Nightwatchman, I might be hanged." She paused and sighed. "I am so tired of everything. I am so tired of uncertainty and anticipation."

A scowl crossed his face. "We planned to be together. We had a plan. We could have been together when King Richard returns and the Black Knights pay for treason. My titles and lands would have been restored, and we would have been able to marry."

"I have no doubt that King Richard will restore your noble status and wealth." She sneered. "As you told me, you are the king's friend and favorite."

He frowned. "Please, not now… Leave the king out of this."

"I cannot, Robin."

"Why?" His shimmering blue eyes begged her to speak.

"King Richard and you are always together in your world, even though the king is so far from us. The king has always influenced our life, although he is not physically with us," Marian pointed out, regret creeping into her voice. "The king once took you from me, and you chose to pursue glory over having a family with me. After your return from the Holy Land, our future again depended on the king's safe return to England."

"Exactly. The king will return. The sheriff will be defeated," he said with confidence.

Unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze, she glanced away. "The truth is that we don't know when the king returns. I begin to doubt that he will ever come back to England either from the Holy Land, Aquitaine, or Norman Lands. I know how much the king loves Norman Lands and Aquitaine, and he may go back there at first and only then to England." She slightly inclined her head. "I have been dreaming of the king's return for so long, but so many years have passed and he is still away."

"King Richard will return to England and everything will be alright, then," he repeated.

She laughed. "Consider all options, Robin. What if the king never returns? What if he is killed by the Saracens or by Prince John's assassins? What if the sheriff and the prince continue holding power?" She laughed again. "On top of that, we both can be dead by the time of the king’s return."

Robin was furious, his eyes darkened. "Enough, Lady Gisborne! The king will return to England alive, even if I have to go to hell to save him and take him to England!" His voice was edged with anger.

"I have no doubt you would go there to save him."

"I will do everything for Richard because–"

"I know. You don't need to explain."

"One thing,” he hissed.  “Imagining or implying the king's death or its possibility might be considered high treason. Yet, you do this very often."

She rolled her eyes. "We are only talking."

"It doesn't matter because the king's life is sacred."

"Again the king," she whispered, lowering her head as if in dismay. There were small tears in her eyes, but she refused to give in to them. She had to remain calm and composed. "Everything is centered on the great and powerful King Richard the Lionheart."

He paled. His face lost its blankness – now he looked hurt and angry. "Watch your tongue when you speak about the king," he retorted, his voice strangely low in spite of his rage.

"The king! Same old same old!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "Robin, you have no right to treat me like a child. Don't command me what to do."

"You must be courteous and polite when you speak about King Richard, our lord and sovereign," he reproached her, narrowing his eyes at her. He was astounded with her words.

“Oh, God.”

"To whom are you loyal to – King Richard or Prince John?" he asked after a long pause.

"To King Richard, even despite his many flaws," she responded truthfully.

"I doubt your loyalty."

"Then you are a fool, Robin of Locksley."

“Maybe I am a fool,” Robin began, “but I will never tolerate that someone, even you, talk about King Richard's flaws. He is the lord of the realm, and you have no right to judge him or question his authority," he said coolly. "It seems that I don't know you."

Marian wasn't stunned. It was so typical for Robin, for he always defended the king. "The king and you. Always the same.” She sighed. “And where are we – you and I? Where were we?"

"Go on," he emboldened.

"You always chose the king over me," she said sincerely.

He shook his head in denial. "No, I haven't. You are wrong."

"Robin, you once abandoned me for the king, and you can do this again."

"I would have never left you again if you hadn’t married Gisborne!"

"And now?"

"What will happen now is my business. If the king needs me, I will go to him." His voice took a lower octave. "You don't need me now because you have a perfect husband to take care of you." The last words were spoken with unimaginable contempt and hatred.

“Very well. Let it be so.”

"I cannot guarantee that the king will return tomorrow or the next week," he said in a calmer voice, restraining his temper. "But I swear that I will do everything I can and I will sacrifice everything I have for the king and for England." He swallowed painfully. "I would have given everything for England where we could have been happy together, but you destroyed this chance."

Marian glanced away. "The king and country have your ultimate loyalty."

"Of course; I am not a traitor, in contrast to Gisborne."

"Robin, don't insult Guy!" she yelled at him. "He has qualities. He is a good and decent man."

"He is such a great man," Robin drawled with poisonous sarcasm. "Gisborne is a murderer and a traitor. I swear he will pay for his crimes."

"I am not sure whether Guy indeed tried to kill the king in the Holy Land."

Robin laughed with an ostensible touch of venom. "You are wrong. I know for certain that Gisborne attempted regicide, but he failed because I stopped him."

"You have no proof!"

"I saw the tattoo on Gisborne's forearm. That’s enough for the king and for me."

"It was dark in the king's tent when you wounded that Saracen. You may be mistaken that Guy had exactly the same tattoo. Your mind is clouded by furious jealousy."

He burst into laughter, annoyed that she still doubted that Guy had made an attempt on the king's life. "I am not mistaken, Lady Gisborne. I served in the private guard for years and dealt with many assassination attempts on King Richard's life." His lips curved in a sanctimonious smile. "Do you really think that I am a blind fool who cannot remember details of regicide attempts? I marked many men before I sliced Gisborne's arm, and those marks often helped me find culprits later."

Marian looked at him straight into his eyes. "You have always been an arrogant, self-assured man, Robin. In the early youth, you were a golden boy, a prodigy son of Malcolm of Locksley, who was loved and admired by everyone. You joined King Richard on the Third Crusade to gain your glory of a brave warrior, and you became a war hero in the Holy Land. Finally, you returned, and, on your first day in Nottingham, you behaved more foolhardily than ever before. Even in the forest, you still are the mighty Earl of Huntingdon and Lord of Locksley."

"What else do you see?"

She smiled as the image of the young Robin resurfaced in her mind, and she compared the man from her memories with the man who stood in front of her. "Definitely, you have changed after your return,” she told him. “You became more righteous and more arrogant. Now you are also self-sacrificing, and you developed even more altruistic principles than those you had embraced in your early youth.” She sighed. “Yet, you still are the Robin of old times in many ways. You need to grow up."

Robin felt as if she had slapped him hard across his cheek. He couldn't keep from turning away to hide a look of resentment and despondency, and, taking a deep breath, forced calmness onto his face. He was saddened that she had failed to realize how much the holy war had affected and changed him. He had buried so much pain and sorrow in the depths of his heart. He never allowed anyone to see his emotional scars that hung over him like a dead load, always suffering alone at night, when, gripped by powerful, dreadful nightmares, he wandered across the battlefields of Outremer.

Robin desperately tried to conceal his traumatic experience and deep-seated, lingering rhythms of pain under the mask of a young, innocuous boy, with his cheeky grin and seemingly carefree attitude. He had to summon all his self-control to keep an image of the same young golden boy he had been before the Crusade. And he succeeded as very few people, excluding, perhaps, Much, knew that he had carried deep and painful burdens and regrets. Robin had changed dramatically, and he naively thought Marian would be able to see that through his mask. It appeared that he was mistaken.

Robin swung his gaze to Marian. He intended to play a game. If she didn't see his true personality, it was even better. His eyes gleaming wickedly, he smiled and bowed very low to her, as though she had been a princess. It was a dignified bow, but in a mocking manner.

"I am honored that you hold me in such a high grade." He laughed. "I have grown up a long time ago." He cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe you need to grow up."

"I have grown-up!"

He glared at her. "And so have I, but you are foolish enough not to see that."

"Don't speak to me in this tone!" she shouted in ringing tones. "Your contempt is insulting."

"Speak more quietly, Lady Gisborne." He lowered his icy gaze at her. "I am usually very polite, unless people say things that are annoying and strangely stupid."

"There has always been an aura of exclusivity and pomposity around you."

"Maybe you are right, Lady Gisborne; but these qualities didn't prevent you from telling me that you loved me and from accepting my marriage proposal." Robin smiled provokingly, never taking his eyes off Marian's alabaster neck glowing in the firelight.

Embarrassed, Marian fluttered her long eyelashes down. "I am sorry."

He shook his head, disappointed. "So many lies… So many false hopes…"

Marian’s heart was full of something that she wanted to say, and yet the words were too difficult. "Robin, I am a married woman now. We cannot–” She abruptly broke off. After a long, tense pause, she went on. “You are a charming and handsome young man. I think… that I am not the only woman who was smitten with you. I hope that you will find someone else."

He laughed grimly. "You really think so?"

"I don't know, but I want to think so," she said with a sigh. "I remember that before you proposed to me all these years ago, you broke hearts of many village girls. I am sure that you also captured hearts of many young belles when you were at the court."

Robin flashed a tongue-in-cheek smile. "Undoubtedly, you are not the first and the last woman in my bed. If you think that I lived in celibacy when I fought in the Holy Land, you are wrong." But you are the only woman whom I loved and still love, he thought.

After Marian had broken their first betrothal, Robin had left England heartbroken. He had tried to find forgetfulness in affairs: he had slept with Queen Eleanor’s ladies-in-waiting at the royal court in Aquitaine and had often found a girl for a night in various towns and villages on the way to the Holy Land. In the Holy Land, Robin had used services of whores in the famous brothels of Acre, though it hadn’t happened regularly. Robin hadn’t been eager to participate in orgies and debauchery, like many other Crusaders did; on the contrary, he had reprimanded his men in the king's private guard if they had spent much time in Acre's brothels. Robin had always been a ladies man and a true charmer, but he had never been a womanizer and a debauchee.

"I am grateful, Robin, for bringing me close to embarrassment and shame," she said after a moment. "At least you are honest with me. It keeps me free of illusions.” She sighed. “Yet, I would appreciate if you stop being so improper, for I don’t want to hear about your love affairs."

"Unlike you, I have always been honest with you," Robin responded. He cleared his throat. "As for Gisborne, he is a traitor. I promise that he will pay for his crimes."

She closed her eyes and sighed. He saw the expression of confusion on her face that soon changed into fear and little by little into despair. "Good God!" she burst out vehemently. "Robin, how many times do I have to say that Guy has good qualities? He can change!"

"Justice must be served. Traitors must pay for treason."

"Robin, don't be so cruel." She looked almost desperate at that moment.

"I am just being fair."

Her features recovered composure. "Guy may redeem himself. There is goodness in him."

"No! You are wrong."

"I am not!" she shot back.

Robin cast a cold, disdainful glance at her. "I feared that you are attracted to him, but you told me that you loved me." He took a step forward, put his hand to her cheek, and then raised her chin, looking into her eyes. "You used Gisborne's affection to spy on him for our cause. You manipulated Gisborne." Blue flame of betrayal flared up in his eyes. "But I never thought that you lied to me when you said you felt nothing for him." His voice was low and rough with emotion. "You manipulated both Gisborne and me. You lied to both of us." Then he took his hand away from her face and stepped aside.

"I don't want to talk about it." She bit her lips. He got the point, and it was useless to deny that.

"As you wish, Lady Gisborne." He laughed bitterly. "Enough lies. I am sick of your lies.”

Marian again felt her anger boil. She took an engagement ring from the chain she wore around her neck and gave it to Robin.

"I don't need it," she spat.

"Then I will get rid of it in the woods."

"Good idea. That’s exactly what you should do."

"I don't need reminders about you." Robin made a step back and took his bow; he shot an arrow into the window so that he could climb down the wall on a rope.

"Where are you going?"

His eyes flashed darkly. "I want to be away from you, in a place where I cannot see you, Marian." A short pause fell between them. "I just cannot see you anymore. I cannot even look at you."

"Robin, I–"

He interrupted her. "I have to pretend that you are dead because, otherwise, I won’t survive," he stated, with a touch of unnatural melancholy that frightened her.

"Robin, I don't think–"

He cut her off sharply. "Enjoy your marital bed and life on the money he is stealing from the poor of Nottingham and from my rightful inheritance.”

Her anger abated, and now she felt desperate. She didn’t want to let him go, she couldn’t lose him again. "Robin, I… I… Robin… please–"

He looked incredulously at her; then he sighed. "Marian, there is no need to say anything now," Robin said in a sorrowful voice. A sad smile curved his lips, lifting one corner of his mouth with familiar irony, but his eyes recovered the tenderness he had treated her with before.

Letting out a sigh of resignation, Robin walked to Marian. He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips with something like a sob, kissing it tenderly. Marian seized his hand in a sporadic movement; they stood so close, their hands clasped, their eyes slightly watery, as if they were two young star-crossed lovers doomed by God from the start. Then, taking her face between his palms, he kissed her face slowly and gently, as if she were so fragile. He pressed her to his chest, holding her tightly and laying his cheek against her forehead with a desperate tenderness.

Robin looked down at her face, and then, driven by instinct, he crushed his lips on hers, claiming them fiercely. He kissed her hard, possessively, and deeply, his passion growing with every kiss. She put her arms round his neck and kissed him with hungry kisses which he delighted in. They threw themselves into a whirl of passion with vigor, drowning in a sea of sensual pleasure. The kissing went on forever, their tongues battling in their mouths. They were kissing wish a great desperation that was so fierce that it made their heads swim, their throbbing intensely in their veins.

Robin was the first to come to his senses. "No," he said firmly. “It is a way to nowhere. We shouldn’t do this anymore.” He deposited a kiss – a brotherly kiss – on her forehead, and then stepped aside.

Her expression was troubled. “Yes, it is the right thing to stop,” she agreed. “But… But…”

“This time, it was your choice to leave me, not mine. We can change nothing because you married him,” Robin said with resignation. They could be together only if Gisborne died or if Marian’s marriage to him was annulled, and the thought of killing his mortal foe crossed his mind again, but he quickly banished it. He didn’t want to have anything in common with Marian; he wasn’t ready to forgive her and be as committed to their relationship as he had been before. "I have a good deal of pain in my heart, but I have to accept your choice, though I cannot promise you my forgiveness,” he added after a pause.

"Robin," she whispered, touched by his eloquent and noble tone of grief.

"You are right," Robin said in a hoarse broken voice. He took a step back, his eyes never leaving her face. "I have no right to reprimand you. You have been waiting for my return for so long, and I am not astonished that you don't wish to be with me anymore."

"Don't leave me, Robin!" she exclaimed.

Robin was genuinely surprised to hear her pleas. He himself had already realized that whatever she said was uttered in the vision of a fatality that kept them apart. It seemed that they were just not meant to be together. "I have to leave," he said with a sigh.

Marian was silent a moment, and then said passionately, "Robin, you cannot leave me again!"

"But you sure understand that now we must go on separate ways." He made his trademark mocking bow, also smiling at her a little sadly. Then he strode towards the window, but stopped and glanced back at her, giving her a long, melancholic look, his farewell look. His heart was swelling with pain, and it was difficult to go on; he made a great effort over himself to say in a low tremulous voice, "Always remember that I loved you tenderly, sincerely, and deeply, and that even now I wish we could be together." His face hardened. "But you ruined everything."

The firelight fell on her cheekbones and awakened a gleam of affliction and sadness in her sapphire eyes. "Forgive me, Robin. I have never wanted to hurt you. It happened because–"

Robin shook his head. "It is too late to ask for forgiveness, my love," he said softly, his gaze traveling meditatively across her slender form. "I loved you so much, Marian. I put my faith in you, so much faith. And then you just threw it away and betrayed me." Then his voice changed: it was all at once dangerously silken, terrible in the resentment and coldness she could hear in his voice. "I want to stop loving you, and, with God's help, I will forget you." He sighed deeply. "Farewell, the loveliest and cruelest of all ladies." He wanted to leave, for he couldn’t be near her anymore.

"Robin! Robin! Don't leave me! Please don’t leave me!" Marian cried out, feeling all at once as if the sky had fallen on her head and the world were reeling. But only a silence was her response as he was gone.

Her arms folded over her stomach, her eyes full of tears, Marian stood, looking at the window, her breath sounding loud in a silence of the room. Robin was gone and he would never forgive her, his words were ringing in her ears. She doubted that she would ever see him again. He left her alone to mourn for a lost chance for happiness in her proud solitude.

Marian couldn't see that once Robin had climbed down the wall of the castle, he stood solemn and quiet, his arms crossed over his chest, his head slightly thrown back. His eyes were full of tears, and there was a painful grimace on his lips. He was looking at the dark sky, asking why God was so cruel to him. He turned his gaze back to Marian’s window and looked there, thinking about the woman whom he so tenderly loved. Then what she had done today passed before his eyes again, and his heart skipped a beat. Thoughts of her betrayal brought back all the pictures of the day, and they floated in his mind long enough to make his heart collapse in his chest.

It was a sunset time, with an orange fire burning in the sky. Mostly all was quiet in the narrow streets as the town was settling down into the night. Pain filled Robin’s heart at the thought that Marian would spend this night with his enemy, whom he hated with murderous, virulent hatred, as much as he had never hated him before. A long, omniscient silence reassured Robin that there was nothing left dear for him in Nottingham; he murmured farewell words to his lost love and walked away from the castle.

In her bedchamber, Marian threw herself on the bed with her clothes on. She lay there in petrification like she had done on many days after Robin’s departure to the Holy Land. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she broke into heart-wrenching sobs of grief. She was hurting, she felt ashamed of herself, and she was confused as well, lost in a maze of her conflicted emotions. If she loved Robin, then why did she marry Guy? Was it for better or for worse? She had no answer.

She had long doubted Robin's commitment to their relationship and his willingness to settle down, while he was so torn between the king and her. Robin had always been hungry for risky adventures, and it seemed that he would always need to live on the brink of death. A wild thrill of happiness, made up of satisfaction, confidence, and joy, as much as arrogance and pride, surged through him every time he carried out a new insane plan, and he was more eager to take more risks. Marian thought that it was exciting to have adventures, but she also wanted to have a normal life. For whatever reason, Guy appeared to be more ready to settle down than Robin.

Marian was torn between Robin of Locksley and Guy of Gisborne, loving Robin and being extremely stirred by Guy. She had denied her attraction to Guy for so long, but, finally, fate prevailed and she no longer could run from herself. Yet, she couldn't forget her childhood sweetheart who always was on her mind and in her heart. She was trapped in a fatal, dangerous love triangle, torn between the two different men – Robin, the king's honorable nobleman and the people's hero with altruistic ideals, and Guy, the sheriff's cruel servant and the mysterious, tormented soul with a not-so-black heart.