by Wulfrith Thunorsdottir

FEEDBACK to Wulfrith

INTRODUCTION: Richard Carpenter's retelling of the Robin Hood legend first appeared on British television in 1984. Eschewing the traditional green tights & feathery hats of previous depictions, this band of outlaws were a bunch of desperate men clad in rags, leather & a thick layer of grime -- & not at all given to trilling merry songs as they ambled through the greenwood. The major addition to the old story was that of pagan shaman Herne the Hunter, named after the mysterious huntsman of Windsor Great Park & inspired by the ancient pagan Horned God which had developed from prehistoric times to Celto-Germanic Cernnunos & Ing-Frey: we also had demon-worshipping barons, insane druids with pick'n'mix pantheons, & nuns seeking the establishment of Lucifer's kingdom on earth.

Unfortunately, Carpenter's need to farm out some S3 episodes to other writers led to completely misjudged & inappropriate episodes with spectral Irish villages transported wholesale to Nottinghamshire & an excursion into Arthurian legend which not only bollocksed up RoS's internal logic, but also diminished the stature, status & purpose of Herne the Hunter, so carefully built up in the previous 2 series, to the point where, to paraphrase my colleague, "the ancient Horned God, in existence since the dawn of humanity, was seen to be subservient to a semi-divine human king" -- thereby making one wonder why, if Herne were lower in status than an unsuccessful Celtic warlord, Robin bothered following him at all. Naturally such nonsense appealed to the unthinking Celtic Faery Freaks who infest RoS fandom, but was a total turn off to fans who were Anglo-Saxon heathens, Odinists, & Celtic Aficionados Who've Actually Read Scholarly Books On The Celts & Who Do Not Treat Every Word Written By John & Caitlin Matthews As The Received Word Of God (or indeed The Goddess). Carpenter himself insists that the magic in the series should be seen as a many-stranded mixture of all the influences that had passed through England up to the time of the series. Carpenter doesn't wholly approve of RoS slash because it's not in keeping with the characters as he wrote them. However, that seems to be his *sole* objection; he's said that two of the canonical characters have been defined as homosexual, that peripheral characters can be defined as gay, & been quoted as saying that he can quite understand why some authors choose to write RoS slash.

Some of the cast -- eg Ray Winstone, Clive Mantle, Michael Praed & Valentine Pelka -- have since gone on to much bigger & better things, but fans still hope that one day there'll be a final episode of RoS in which all the ends left hanging at the end of S3 & the brutally abrupt death of the series are tied up & plot lines resolved.

MARION OF LEAFORD (Judi Trott) is the rebel daughter of a Saxon Crusader. Once the ward of the Sheriff of Nottingham, she's now an outlaw. Wife to Robin of Loxley, & courted after Loxley's death by Robert of Huntingdon. Became a novice at Halstead Priory at the end of Series 3.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Though the coming of Autumn had brought brilliant flames of red, orange and gold to the forest as the year died in its annual blaze of fire, Marion of Leaford saw the world only in severe monochrome shades of grey, black and white.

Not even the gentle sanctity of the forest could touch her, submerged as she was in the cloying depths of loss and loneliness. She'd even lost the sense of pleasure that Robin had taught her to feel in the forest -- and wouldn't even *go* into Sherwood any more because it reminded her too much of him. The forest had ever been Robin's kingdom -- and to walk in it once more, *without* him, was unthinkable; it served only to call back the memories of what had been, what had been lost, and what could never be again. Now all she desired was to stay cocooned and protected within the walls of Leaford Grange.

Her father fretted. Of course he did. Since she'd returned to him -- almost a year ago now -- lost, bruised and battered after her greenwood husband's death, she'd grown thinner, paler, weaker; grieving herself into the guise of a hollow-eyed shadow. He'd expected her to mourn -- of *course* he had -- but, numbed and devastated after Loxley's death, she no longer had any sense of joy in life and even now her grief seemed to grow more ferocious with each passing day: time did not soften her pain and it seemed as though her wounds would *never* heal.

It was no more than a few weeks before Christmas when the pedlar came to the Grange.

A tall, rangy boy, he was a slender, almost otherworldly creature of about seventeen summers. Still beardless and smooth-cheeked, he had a pointed, lop-sided, almost comical face, with a tip-tilted nose and a wide, generous mouth whose corners curved upwards in an almost permanent, cheerful grin. His untidy, nut-brown hair fell to just below his ears and tumbled in an unruly fringe over his eyes, which were a warm, glowing, gold-flecked hazel, and his name was Aelfwyn.

Aelfwyn never told anyone where he'd come from -- the kitchen gossip was that he was some great lord's bastard got on a foreign serving-wench and left as a foundling at a convent somewhere -- but he seemed to have hawked his tray of trifles and trinkets around most of the Midland shires. Marion encountered him in the kitchens selling ribbons and other gaudy, silly fripperies to the giggling kitchen maids, whilst passing on gossip from the Shire.

"No -- *really*?" one of the girls would shriek after every scurrilous rumour. "I can't believe *that*!"

Another of the girls would be less convinced. "Yes you can, Annie -- you've always managed to in the past..."

When Marion entered the room the girls and the pedlar fell silent, the girls looking at her in slight embarrassment, and trying to cover their giggles, whilst the pedlar merely looked at her affably. "Um..." Annie began, as the others coughed and began to compose themselves. "It's the pedlar. Come to sell us some niceties for Christmastide."

"So I see," Marion replied icily. "Kindly get on with it a little more quietly, if you would."

"Certainly, Lady Marion...."

"And you," she said, turning to the pedlar. "Try not to disturb the kitchen maids any more than you have to. There's a lot to be done in readiness for the Christmas festivities." Then, her frosty reception of him over -- and one that he had accepted with annoying blitheness -- Marion turned her attention to the washing of pots that the girls had left unfinished. She sighed inwardly, but decided to apply herself to the task; it would take her mind off the dark thoughts and bitter sadness that were eating into her spirit. The kitchen girls began conversing again in whispers interspersed with more hissed giggles, and then turned their attention to the pedlar once more. From the corner of her eye, Marion did too.

Alys the seamstress's daughter sidled into the room, saw Marion, then went quickly towards her mistress when Marion caught her eye and then beckoned her. "Who *is* that scruffy little remnant, Alys?" Marion asked. "And how long has he been coming here?"

"Oh, ever since your father returned to the Grange," replied Alys, blushing.

"So why haven't *I* seen him before?"

Alys reddened even more. "You weren't 'ere to meet 'im. And when you *were*, you were always in your room, so the chance never came for you to meet."

"I see."

"His name's Aelfwyn," Alys continued. "'E keeps us in touch with all that goes on in the wide world." Alys seemed rather taken with Aelfwyn, Marion thought scornfully. Him and that ridiculously affected way of speaking that he had.

Once the pots were washed and stacked for drying, Marion busied herself around the kitchen, listening to the chatter with half an ear -- until suddenly she realized that the pedlar was addressing her.

"What about *thee*, Maistress? Would thou not like to buy some of my fine ribbons?"

"No thank you," replied Marion tersely. "I have better things to waste my money on than *ribbons*."

Unperturbed, Aelfwyn followed her around the kitchen and then held up some strips of a beautiful green cloth to her hair. "What about *these*, Maistress?" he suggested cheerfully. "See, Maistress -- they would go well with thy hair."

"No *thank* you!" This time her voice was more stern as she pushed his hand away.

Aelfwyn shrugged. "As thou wishes, Maistress," he smiled. Marion found his equipoise unnerving.

Suddenly her father entered the kitchen. "Ah! *Aelfwyn*!" he exclaimed, embracing the boy in a bear-like hug. "I was told you were here. It's good to see you again, boy. I always know we're coming up to a Church festival when you arrive. How are you, lad? You look a little plumper than when last you were here."

Marion listened, feeling an odd sense of disquiet -- and a certain amount of envy -- at her father's familiarity with the pedlar. There was something about him that she didn't care for -- but couldn't say for certain what it was. Perhaps it was simply that Aelfwyn was so jovial and full of life when she herself couldn't imagine ever feeling happy or joyous again.

Eventually Alys, the local women who'd come to the Grange purposely to see Aelfwyn and the kitchen girls had made their purchases and gone back to their chores contentedly. By now the boy's tray of goods was empty -- and Sir Richard saw him looking down at it mournfully.

"What's wrong, lad?" he asked. "You've done well, today! You must have earned enough to keep you in meat and ale for a good while yet."

"Aye, Maistre," agreed Aelfwyn. "But Maistre, I must get myself some more goods or else I shall starve when the Winter snows come. There is much I must do -- making, buying, weaving -- it all takes time, Maistre."

"Then the answer's simple, Aelfwyn. You'll stay *here* for the Winter."

"Father!" exclaimed Marion. "Have we enough supplies to feed an extra mouth?"

"Hmmmn." Sir Richard stroked his chin and looked studiously at Aelfwyn. But Marion saw the glint of laughter in her father's eyes and knew that an extra bed and enough food for an extra mouth would have to be found. "That's a good point, Marion. I remember from when last he was here that this lad eats like a horse."

"A pity then that we cannot feed him on oats and hay," Marion snapped.

"There'll be enough, Marion," Sir Richard assured her with a smile. "What say you, Aelfwyn -- will you stay with us? As my guest?"

The boy's face lit up like the noonday sun. "Maistre!" he exclaimed, wide-eyed. "It would be an *honour* to stay here as thy guest. If thou dost not jest..."

"Oh, I *mean* it, Aelfwyn. You may stay here for as long as it takes you to build up your stock again."

"Maistre! I can never repay thy kindness -- but I will work hard for thee at anything thou might desire me to do in order to pay for my keep."

"You'll do nothing of the kind, Aelfwyn," laughed Sir Richard. "I've told you that you'll stay here as my guest!"

"Nay, Maistre." Aelfwyn shook his shaggy head. "'Tis not the way of me or my kin. I accept thy kindness with all due gratitude -- but it is the way of my kin to repay the kindness of others with kindness of our own."

"I think you should accept his offer, Father," suggested Marion in a cool voice.

"Very well, young man. I'll set you some task to do, if that's what you want. How are you with horses, lad? I only have a few to my name, but my ostler Bennet would be glad of your assistance, if that would suit you?"

"'Tis not for me to say what best suits, Maistre. That is for *thee* to decide. But to be an ostler's boy would suit me well. Thank thee, Maistre."

Sir Richard chuckled. "You're a strange one and no mistake, Aelfwyn." Then he looked thoughtfully at the boy. "You know, yours is a name I've not heard in years. When you first came here I remarked to myself on how it was a long time since I'd last met anyone of that name. I meant to ask you about it before. What does it mean, now, boy?"

"It means *Elf-friend*, Maistre," Aelfwyn replied.

"How unusual! It's sad to see the old names falling into disuse." He shrugged ruefully. "Still, it's the way of the world, I suppose. Anyway -- if you're willing, run along to the stables and tell Bennet why I've sent you; I'm sure you've met him before, so it's not as if you'll be strangers to each other. In the meantime, I'll have Thomas take your things to the room we keep for guests. If that would please you?" Sir Richard added, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he tried to stop the grin coming to his lips as the boy's face shone ever more brightly.

"Aye! It would please me! Thank thee again, Maistre!" And then he was off, out through the Hall door and scampering away like a hare towards the stable.

Marion came and stood beside her father, and put her hand on his arm. "You're very fond of him, aren't you..."

Sir Richard placed his hand over his daughter's. "I am," he admitted. "Sometimes I find it hard not to think of him as the son I always wanted. Is that *very* wrong of me?"

She smiled, though she felt a slight pang of jealousy. "It's not for me to say, Father."

"He's a good lad, Marion. When he first started to come here I wasn't certain of him -- you can't have failed to notice his quaint turn of phrase. But the girls like him because he sells his wares to them at ridiculously low prices -- and he brightens this old place up when he visits."

"Alys tells me that he started coming here when you returned from -- from -- "

" -- From the dead?" finished Sir Richard with a wry smile. "Yes, he did. It's a pity you couldn't have met him earlier than this -- he might have cheered you. But you preferred to keep away from all the goings on of the Grange. Which," he added hastily, "I understand. Though the concern would be well meant, too many sympathetic eyes can be more than a broken soul can bear."

"How long *will* he stay here, Father?"

"For as long as necessary."

"And how long might *that* be?"

"Don't begrudge him the comfort of the Grange, Marion. After all, he'll be working for his keep; Bennet needs help in the stables -- and it'll be good for him to have someone to keep him company and keep his mind off his Edith's death. He's a good lad, Marion -- all I ask is that you *try* to like him."

"I'll do my best, Father."

* * * * * * * * *

But it was hard work. Marion wasn't to know that the course of her river of unhappiness was about to change, and therefore dealing with Aelfwyn was akin to one of the labours of Hercules. For wherever she went, Aelfwyn seemed to be there too. Whenever she turned he was at her heels. Even when she knew that she had managed to elude all other eyes in the Grange, Aelfwyn always knew where to find her. And she longed to escape from his soft brown eyes, and the sight of him trotting after her with dog-like devotion.

Finally she lost patience. "In the name of God why can't you leave me alone, boy? I'm *sick* of finding you at my heels like a lap-dog. Leave me in *peace*, damn you! Get back to the stables where you belong and leave me to my misery!"

Aelfwyn merely smiled blithely back at her. "I am here to help thee," he said cheerily.

"*Help* me?" exclaimed Marion, boiling with rage. "You *cannot* help me. Leave me be, pedlar. Go back to Bennet -- he needs you *far* more than *I* do."

"*Thou* needs me more than he does," he replied. "To help thee mourn thy Robin."

At first she couldn't believe what she'd heard. And then she turned on him in fury. "I do not need your help to mourn my lost love. I don't need *anyone's* help in mourning him. *That* I can do well enough for myself."

"You need my help," Aelfwyn insisted firmly. "Thou never speaks of him to anyone. Thou dost not use thy tongue to tease out thy pain. And thou shouldst. Thou *should* talk of him, Maistress. That would ease thy pain."

"Do not presume to tell *me* how I should mourn for Robin," Marion hissed. "You know nothing. *Nothing*! What can *you* know of our time together? What can *you* know of how much I loved my husband and of how much I ache for him still to be with me?"

Suddenly her fury was splintering into the agony of remembered shared moments. The water of her tears began to extinguish the fire of her anger, their touch becoming hisses of steam which turned into gasps of pain. Her eyes filled with oceans of saltwater. "What can *you* know of how much I loved Robin and how much I -- how much I -- " And then the floodwaters came and she had to turn from him.

She ran blindly towards her chamber, gulping back sobs, uncaring -- perhaps even unaware -- that Aelfwyn was following her. On reaching it she flung open the door and threw herself down on the bed, howling like a child.

"Maistress?"

"Get away from me, *boy*," she hissed through tears of rage. "It's not *fair*! Why should *you* live and he be *dead*?"

"'Tis not unfair." His voice was firm and forceful. "I live because 'tis the way of the Web. Thou canst not wish me dead just because thy *lord* is dead. My death will not give him life."

Aelfwyn's hand on her shoulder burned her like an iron. "Take your hands off me!" she growled. "Don't touch me!"

But he was stronger than she was. He pulled her to her feet and gripped her above the elbows. "Thou art wrong, Maistress," he said. "I also knew thy lord. And I miss him. For *I* loved him too."

Marion stared up at Aelfwyn. "*You* knew my Robin?"

Aelfwyn shrugged. "Who did *not*, Maistress?" he said softly. "And who could not love a man who fought for his people as he did? I come to thee and seek to be with thee because *I* want to mourn him too."

"Do you *mean* that?"

"Aye, Maistress. And thou must know that I am here for thee if thou shouldst need me. I understand thy pain. For the respect and admiration I have for thy lord, I would gladly give his lady all the kindness that it is in my power to give."

For a moment she stared at him wide-eyed -- and then something in the open honesty of his hazel eyes broke through the barrier of resentment and dislike that had separated her from Aelfwyn and she knew at once that she could trust him. It would be foolish to reject his kindess out of hand.

"Oh Aelfwyn," she cried, throwing her arms around him and resting her head against his chest, grateful to have the comfort and warmth of another human being once more. "I miss him so *much*. I will never love another man. *Never*."

Aelfwyn's voice, his lips buried in her hair, was muffled. "Oh but thou *wilt*, my lady. Thou wilt," he said. "'Tis the way of the Web."

"Never. *Never*!"

Aelfwyn smiled. "As thou wilt, my lady." Suddenly he looked down at her, his eyes solemn. "Listen, my lady. This may not give thee any comfort, but think on this: thou say'st that thy lord is dead, and that I cannot deny. But so long as Sherwood stands, and so long as his memory lives on in the hearts and minds of his friends and followers, can he ever *truly* be gone? Nay, Maistress. His spirit will remain with you always."

Marion laughed awkwardly. "You're right, I vow," she admitted. "But it still does not take the pain away..."

She began crying again, but her unhappiness was eased a little when Aelfwyn's warm arms wound around her and he sat her down on the bed with him and began to rock her gently backwards and forwards, crooning softly in her ear. She felt like a child in his arms. She felt safe too -- and strengthened by the boy's understanding of her unhappiness. Something -- and she didn't know what it was, unless it was the affection that she saw in those kind eyes -- convinced her that he was telling the truth.

No. Aelfwyn would *never* deceive her.

* * * * * * * * *

Christmas came and went, and the Old Year died and the New Year sprang into being. Marion's pain was at last lessening, and she had to admit that the young pedlar was responsible for the improvement in her mood. Aelfwyn was indeed good company. Her father had been *right* to ask him to stay, for he respected her need to be alone, and only spoke to her when she had first addressed him -- but very often he would sit and tell her stories to amuse her when her mood was at its darkest, and for that alone she was grateful.

She had also learned the truth of his words to her about understanding the pain that she'd felt at her husband's death. Aelfwyn knew a great deal about Robin -- indeed, he idolized the outlaw leader -- and had admitted to Marion that he too had grieved bitterly on hearing of Loxley's death. Aelfwyn therefore appreciated how desolate Marion felt -- but he never over-whelmed her with sympathy; instead, Marion found that if ever she needed someone simply to keep her company, Aelfwyn would willingly sit with her in protective silence, working away quietly on the goods for his tray. Or, when she needed more than mere words, Aelfwyn would sit and hold her in his arms, offering simple, platonic comfort, talking to her as brother to sister.

Since the New Year had begun to get into its stride, the friendship between Marion and Aelfwyn became more intense -- though Marion couldn't have said when and how this strange miracle had taken place.

When he'd first come to the Grange, Marion hadn't liked him; she'd found him irritating and slightly unnerving and had taken little interest in this interloper. But as the weeks had passed, she had grown more and more intrigued by this strange youth with his peculiar mode of speech and disturbingly unflappable demeanor. Slowly he had begun to assume a place in her affections that surprised her. But then, she had quickly found him to be the one person she could talk to freely about Robin and her sorrow at his loss. Aelfwyn understood her. Certainly her father had *tried* to understand her, using his memories of the loss of her mother as a reference point. But all the same the depth of her grief had bewildered him -- and there was no-one amongst the Grange's retainers that Marion had felt confident of approaching for comfort: such a thing would be unheard of even at Leaford.

But as time went on, Marion found herself wondering about Aelfwyn. What puzzled her was the way in which although the boy was affectionate and loving towards her, he was also oddly passionless and slightly distant -- as though he'd *heard* of such emotions, but was trying to reproduce them without having actually experienced them himself. Probably he *hadn't* felt such emotions before, Marion reasoned -- he was young, and his short life may not have been an easy one; at worst, it could have been quite precarious. He responded merrily to the flirtatious behaviour of the house-girls, and was probably no virgin, but she suspected that such a traveller as he was took his pleasures lightly and rarely formed long-standing romantic attachments.

But this wasn't all that intrigued her about Aelfwyn. Curiosity roused, she wanted desperately to know more about him -- but he wouldn't tell her anything of his background. And there were times when she'd looked from her window and seen him sitting on the Grange's wall, or on banks and ridges in the expanse of green before the wall met the forest. Even when the weather was at its coldest he would be there, looking for all the world as though he was communing with unseen spirits as he raised his head, his eyes shining as though he were surrounded by much-loved friends.

He was a strange child, that much she knew. But one day, Marion thought confidently, she *would* understand him.

* * * * * * * * *

The last days of Winter were stepping slowly into Spring -- and still Aelfwyn showed no signs of wanting to leave the Grange, despite the fact that he now had more than enough stock to sell. But Sir Richard was more than content for him to stay, as was Bennet, who frequently praised the boy's helpfulness and skill with the horses.

Marion too was happy that she had Aelfwyn's company -- but she couldn't help wondering what it was that kept him at Leaford. "Aren't you *bored* here, Aelfwyn?" she asked him one soft April morning as they sat together in the sunshine, both of them working together on yet more goods for Aelfwyn's tray. "Wouldn't you rather be roaming the Shires and selling your wares?"

He looked ridiculously hurt at the suggestion. "Nay, Maistress. I could *never* be bored here."

Marion smiled. "I didn't mean anything unkind by that, Aelfwyn. I just thought that you might wish to be away and earning your living again."

"Thou wishes me to leave? Art thou tired of me?"

"*No*, Aelfwyn!" laughed Marion. She touched his hair in a conciliatory gesture, oddly touched by the woebegone expression on his face. "I'm not tired of you, Aelfwyn -- how *could* I be when you and I have become such good friends? I'm glad that you're here -- though God knows there was a time when I would never have thought to hear myself say so!" She ruffled his hair. "What I meant was that I thought you would be eager to have your freedom again."

Aelfwyn gestured towards the Grange. "This is no prison, Maistress. Or if it *is*, then it is indeed a fair one." Suddenly he put his hand on her arm. "Dost thou mean that thy father wishes me to be gone? Is he tired of my presence? Would he rather I were away?"

"No, Aelfwyn -- "

"Ah, but my lady, I would not wish him to think that I am taking advantage of his generosity and kindness to a humble pedlar."

Marion dropped the trinket she had finished into Aelfwyn's basket of completed goods. "You know that you're welcome to stay here for as long as you like. But what will happen if you can't make any money?"

Aelfwyn snickered. "I have already sold plenty to the ladies of the Grange," he pointed out. "Alys has brought much from me, and ladies from the villages around have come to me also." He grinned out at her from beneath his dark fringe. "I am already making my money, Maistress."

Marion giggled. "Perhaps we should share your earnings," she suggested. "I've helped you make so much of your stock that I think it only fair..."

Aelfwyn looked up at her engagingly. "But of course, my lady," he said. "Mayhap one day thou couldst dress in humble garb and we could go together to Nottingham and sell our wares?"

Marion's giggles grew louder. "Maybe we could!" she agreed. "But I wonder what my *father* would say?"

They chortled merrily away together for a while, and then went on with their work until suddenly Aelfwyn pitched himself forward and somersaulted down the bank they were sitting on. "I be bored now," he announced from the bottom of the bank once he was right way up again. "I think I shall take myself off into Sherwood and lose myself there awhile." He sprang to his feet and then turned to Marion. "Wilt thou come with me?"

Marion shuddered and went pale. "No," she said at once.

"Then I will go without thee, Maistress."

But he didn't move. Instead he watched her, his dark eyes quizzical.

"I can't go with you," Marion said quietly, her hands moving against each other like serpents as the suffocating coils of anxiety wound around her. "I can't, Aelfwyn. I cannot walk in Sherwood again knowing that he's no longer there."

"Is he not, Maistress?" Aelfwyn's words seemed strangely more a statement of fact than a question.

"You know he's not, Aelfwyn." She closed her eyes to blot out the sight of the trees that lay before them. "My Robin is gone."

Aelfwyn came to her, knelt down and took her hand. "My lady, so long as Sherwood stands thy husband shall live." He shook Marion gently, making her open her eyes. He pointed behind him to the forest. "Thy husband is *there*, Maistress. And always will be. Thy husband's spirit dwells still in Sherwood -- dwells still in the place that he loved. Deny thy lord's kingdom and thou dost deny him also. Sherwood was as much a part of him as *thou* wast. Though thy lord now roams the forests of the Otherworld, if thou wouldst find him *anywhere* in the world of men then thou wilt find him in this forest; for is not this world also a part of the Otherworld?"

Marion shook her head, smiling ruefully. "Ah, now, Aelfwyn -- such notions are beyond my understanding."

Aelfwyn gripped her arm more urgently. "But all thou needst understand is that thy husband rules Sherwood still. Maistress, did thou not learn to love the forest as he did in all the time thou wast together?"

Marion sighed, then smiled wistfully in remembrance. "I did," she admitted. "At first, being *anywhere* with Robin was wonderment enough. But slowly he taught me to find beauty in the forest no matter what the season." Her smile grew warmer with pleasure at the memories.

"What did he teach thee?" asked Aelfwyn gently.

Marion looked back into his friendly, smiling eyes. "He showed me that even in the bleakest depths of Winter it was still possible to find great wonders in the sleeping beasts in their burrows and the buried buds that would burst into life with the Spring. He believed that they were signs of Mother Earth's promise of the Year's End that in the Spring She would return to the people of the forest who loved Her. And at length *I* came to believe it too."

"Then come with me, Maistress," Aelfwyn said, his low voice coaxing and insistent. "Come walk in the forest with me and feel thy husband's presence once more."

"I *can't*," she cried, her face beseeching. "Please don't try and make me, Aelfwyn."

"I could not make *thee* do *anything* thou didst not wish to do, Maistress. But thou cannot hide from the memory of thy husband forever."

"I'm not hiding from his memory," she replied with a wan smile. "He is with me always."

"Then he will be in Sherwood, also."

"I see your logic, Aelfwyn. But I still cannot come with you."

"Thou can. Where is thy courage?"

"My pain is too strong, Aelfwyn -- it has sapped what little courage I had left."

"Phoo," snorted Aelfwyn. "I do not believe you. Are those *really* the words of Robin i' the Hood's lady? Can the Lady Wolfshead truly have so little courage?" He seized her hands, and pulled her to her feet. "Thou *wilt* come with me, Maistress -- whether thou wish it or no."

"*No*, Aelfwyn!" exclaimed Marion as he dragged her closer to the forest. "*No*! Let me go, Aelfwyn, I beg you -- you cannot make me do this!"

But he ignored her pleas and took her to the brink of the forest, where they stood together, Marion staring at the soaring trees with dread, whilst Aelfwyn watched *her*, still holding her hands to prevent her running away. Her scalp prickled, her heart pounded, her body felt like lead, and she was sure that she would fall dead at Aelfwyn's feet if he were to pull her into the shadow of the forest.

"This is madness," Marion said at last, tears perilously close. "Christ in Heaven, Aelfwyn. How can you find it in yourself to be so cruel?"

"No cruelty, my lady. Would thou *really* prefer to spend the rest of thy days denying the place where thy love reigned as lord, when thou could learn to roam there with love once more?"

"Your words are foolish," snapped Marion. "I cannot roam Sherwood with such impunity as I did before. My friends are all scattered and I wouldn't be safe -- for how *could* a lone woman rove abroad in the forest in safety?"

"Herne would protect thee."

"So he might," sighed Marion. "But you still can't make me enter the forest if I don't want to."

Aelfwyn put his arms around her. "Is that so, Maistress?" His voice was artful. "Can I not?"

And before she knew it Marion was standing in Sherwood for the first time since the sundering of the outlaw band. She stared at the budding canopy of leaves above her, tree limbs still stark against the sky, and then at the break in the trees through which she could see the Grange. It was almost as though she had been ripped from safety and thrown into her greatest nightmare... And yet --

And yet, with Aelfwyn holding her, being in Sherwood didn't feel as threatening or as terrifying as she'd expected it to. Aelfwyn had been right -- she *could* feel Robin's presence here, where the wind through the branches of the trees seemed to be whispering to her in welcome. She let her gaze travel over everything that she saw before her -- the bracken, the budding woodland flowers, the birds flitting from tree to tree -- and listened to the sounds of the forest, in awe of everything around her. Above all, she no longer felt any terror about being back in Sherwood again.

Aelfwyn tightened his arms around her, then whispered in her ear. "Well, Maistress? How art thou? Hast thou conquered thy fears?"

Marion squeezed his hands and smiled as he laid his head against hers. "I'm well, Aelfwyn. And my fears have gone."

Aelfwyn kissed her cheek. "Well, thou might still need a while to learn thy way again. I will gladly come with thee whenever thou wishes to walk here."

Much to her surprise, Marion found that she didn't have to think long and hard about his offer. "Thank you," she smiled. "That would please me."

They strolled back towards the bank and picked up the trinkets they'd made. As they returned to the Grange, Aelfwyn said: "Thou wert very brave, Maistress. I was proud of thee. When thou faced what thou had feared for so long thou faced it with the strength and courage that I expected of Robin Hood's lady."

Marion shook her head and laughed. "But *I* didn't expect it," she admitted quietly.

* * * * * * * * *

From then on Marion and Aelfwyn spent a great deal of time wandering through the forest. Sir Richard had been surprised at Marion's sudden eagerness to return to Sherwood when she'd refused to enter it for so long, but he was glad all the same that Marion was so much happier than she'd been before Aelfwyn's arrival.

Aelfwyn had also taken to teaching Marion about the stars. The lessons took the form of bundling themselves up in warm clothes against the early Spring nights, spreading warm furs and blankets on the bank before the forest and gazing up at the night sky in wonder. Much of their time was spent in gossiping and giggling, but also in arguing about the stars and constellations.

"Dost thy father not fret that we are so often alone here together at night?" Aelfwyn asked one evening, his breath milk-white in the frosty air. "Dost he not fear for thy -- honour?"

"He *trusts* you, Aelfwyn," Marion replied with a grin. "Which is more than can be said for *some*, that's true -- but then many think that my honour isn't worthy worrying about any longer. To them my honour was besmirched a long time ago."

"Dost that not concern thee?"

Marion laughed. "We're here to study the stars, not discuss my reputation! Now see -- there -- that's the Belt of Orion the Hunter."

"'Tis Frigg's Distaff," retorted Aelfwyn.

"Orion's Belt."

"Frigg's Distaff."

"Orion's *Belt*."

"Frigg's *Distaff*."

"Very well then, if you insist..."

"And I do..."

"Well, then. Over there -- that's the Plough."

"Woden's Wagon."

"The Plough."

"Woden's Wagon. And there be Our Lady's Wagon beside it..."

"Oh, I give in!" Marion giggled. "You know *everything*, Aelfwyn!"

"This be true, Maistress. And see there, are the Great Wolf's Jaws -- and from them thou can see dropping Wil and Wan, the great streams of spittle from his mouth."

"*Ugh*. I might've known you'd know something like that. You're a dreadful, *disgusting* boy."

"But thou likest me?"

"Very much," smiled Marion.

"Then I think that thou has spent too long in the cold night air, Maistress!"

Marion laughed. "You could be right!" Then she sighed. "It's been pleasant out here, I'll grant you. But oh -- it's getting *colder*, Aelfwyn! I'll be glad to get to my bed tonight!"

They trudged back to the Grange and said their goodnights at Aelfwyn's door. "Sleep well tonight, my lady," he said, kissing her hand. "May thy dreams be fair."

"And yours, Aelfwyn," she smiled, before continuing up to her room where, yawning and stretching, she undressed and then prepared for bed.

Blowing out the candles in her room before settling down under her covers, Marion couldn't help but smile again. Certainly there were times when Aelfwyn could be absolutely impossible, but there was no harm in him and he made her feel at ease. It had been a pleasant evening's excursion, she thought to herself as her eyelids drooped. Tonight she should sleep *very* well.

* * * * * * * * *

By the colour of the sky it was still night-time -- and nowhere near dawn. Marion turned away from the window and got back into bed again, pulling the covers up under her chin. She couldn't sleep. Instead of feeling as relaxed and drowsy as she had expected after her evening out in the open air, she felt as wide-awake as though it were mid-morning -- and she knew the reason why.

The slow thaw of Winter into Spring wasn't easy for her now that Robin wasn't with her and she no longer had the rhythms of the forest to guide her into the new season. And, although Aelfwyn was helping her to take pleasure in the forest once more, the new life and warmth coming into the world did not really mesh with her own mood.

With another deep sigh, Marion decided to go down to the kitchen and warm herself by the remnants of the fire -- and perhaps heat up some milk to send her back to her dreamless sleep again. Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, she left her room, quietly shutting the door behind her, and began to make her way down the stairs.

As she came nearer to the kitchen, she suddenly heard the sound of voices. Creeping closer, Marion saw Aelfwyn and Bennet talking quietly together by the door of the Hall. Though it was dark and her view of them was partly obscured by the lay-out of the Hall and the stairs she was descending, she could still see enough to find something about the manner in which they conversed that puzzled her. She saw Bennet reach down and stroke Aelfwyn's cheek, whilst the boy smiled up at him, a co-conspirator. And then she froze as the big, bearded man took the boy in his arms and kissed him roughly on the mouth -- only for Aelfwyn to reach up and wrap his arms around the man's neck, returning the kiss with fervour as the older man began to caress him.

It was like something from a skewed, unnerving dream. Marion knew that men like this existed, and she could believe it of the otherworldly Aelfwyn -- but *Bennet*? Maybe it was a way of releasing his sexual frustrations, long pent-up since the death of his wife the year before -- but as his hand slid into Aelfwyn's breeches and began rubbing at the youth's crotch, she couldn't believe that Bennet had chosen her father's guest instead of one of the household women. And why *here*, where there was a chance of them being discovered? But then, perhaps that was part of the excitement.

In the pools of darkness she could see little -- but she heard Aelfwyn's gasps of delight as Bennet's hand worked more frantically at the boy's shaft and the older man's lips traced a line of kisses along the boy's neck and throat. Heard Bennet exclaim as Aelfwyn reached down to return the older man's caress.

Suddenly Bennet pulled away, tugged at the lacings on his breeches, and released his hardened prick, engorged and pulsing with his need. He spat on his hand and then, rubbing his penis slowly in order to moisten it with his saliva and juices, he ordered the boy to turn around and unfasten his breeches; Aelfwyn obeyed him -- and Marion caught a brief glimpse of the expression of fey hunger in the boy's face as he let his breeches fall to the floor.

Bennet growled another order at him and the boy bent forward, his hands braced against the wall. And then Bennet positioned himself against the boy, gripping his hips tightly before penetrating him with one powerful thrust which made Aelfwyn cry out -- in pleasure, Marion realized, not in pain -- before Bennet's body began moving in rough jerks inside Aelfwyn's, his hand still caressing the boy's penis in the darkness.

Marion knew that she shouldn't have been watching them. Knew that she should have turned and gone quietly back to her room as soon as it had become clear as to what the two men's intentions were. But she couldn't. Though the darkness partly hid them, as their lovemaking continued Marion couldn't tear her eyes away from them -- all she could hear were Bennet's rhythmic grunts and Aelfwyn's groans of sensual bliss: all her attention was fixed on the two lovers moving urgently together before her fascinated eyes.

Suddenly Aelfwyn's body began to thrust back quickly at Bennet's and his cries became wilder as he climaxed; Bennet's own climax wasn't close behind and soon the two men were wrapped in each other's arms, kissing languorously now.

Moments later Aelfwyn whispered something in Bennet's ear; the older man gave a rumble of laughter and then sank to his knees before the boy, his hands gripping Aelfwyn's firm buttocks and his face pressed close against the youth's belly. Marion couldn't clearly see what Bennet was doing -- but when she heard Aelfwyn draw in his breath and then begin to moan and gently thrust his hips towards the older man, his fingers wound into Bennet's hair, Marion knew that she'd seen all too much and turned back, running as quickly and quietly up the stairs as she could.

Still stunned by what she'd seen, she locked her door and then threw herself, shivering, down onto her bed. If that was how Bennet and Aelfwyn chose to please themselves, then it was their souls at stake and not hers. It was *their* concern. But though she knew she should have been sickened by what she'd seen, still Marion couldn't get the sounds of Aelfwyn's cries out of her mind and ears.

With a jolt, she realized why. Dear God, was it possible? Was that *really* the answer?

She was jealous. Jealous of Bennet.

For *she* wanted to be the one to make Aelfwyn cry out in pleasure as she held him in her arms and made love to him...

* * * * * * * * *

The next morning Bennet graciously spared Aelfwyn from his duties and even saddled and tacked up two horses so that Marion and Aelfwyn could go riding in the forest.

The sun was warm and bright, and the sky clear as they set off. Aelfwyn was in high spirits and chattered on excitedly as he and Marion rode through the fringes of Sherwood, the birds calling overhead and small animals scurrying through the undergrowth. Again and again he asked Marion to tell him about her adventures and time with the outlaws, but he got very little response until, finally subdued by her indifference towards him, Aelfwyn too became silent.

Casting a brief glance at him, Marion felt some guilt at dampening his spirits. But she couldn't get the previous night's images of Aelfwyn and Bennet making love out of her mind. And her envy of Bennet for his physical relationship with Aelfwyn was rapidly engendering an odd kind of resentment towards the youth. If *she* couldn't have Aelfwyn, then she certainly didn't want Bennet to have him either.

A bird suddenly flew out of the bushes and across their path, startling Marion and the horses. Aelfwyn quickly quieted their mounts, and then looked reluctantly at Marion. "Hast thou regained thy wits, Maistress?"

"Yes, thank you," replied Marion coldly, earning herself another hurt, mournful look.

<*Damn* him,> Marion thought, angry and embarrassed by his reproachful eyes. <How *dare* he make me feel guilty! This is my *lover's* kingdom, not *his*.> And then she remembered that much of her guilt lay in the fact that she desired Aelfwyn so desperately -- and desired him even here, in the forest where she'd lived as Robin's wife. <But those days are over,> she reminded herself. <Robin is gone -- and I am alone...>

With that thought in her mind, she apologized hastily to Aelfwyn for her ill-humour; after all, she reasoned wryly, it wasn't *his* fault that Robin was dead -- and Aelfwyn was only doing his best to lighten her mood. She smiled as his face brightened at her kind words, and his exuberant spirits were restored. <I'm not surprised that Bennet finds him so attractive,> she thought with a mental sigh and chuckle. <Nothing seems to weigh him down for long!>

* * * * * * * * *

The shadows of the morning shortened towards those of mid-day and, feeling hungry, Marion and Aelfwyn rode to a sheltered part of the river-bank to partake of the rations that had been prepared for them in the kitchen. Aelfwyn set about making a fire and Marion, watching him as she set out the food, found herself admiring his lithe body until she brought herself up short with a mental shake. <Behave yourself,> she scolded. <Yes, he's a fine young man, but I don't think he's likely to be interested in *you*, his hero's widow. Besides, he's a pedlar and I'm a Crusader's daughter.> Suddenly she sighed aloud. <Yes -- and Robin was only a rebellious peasant...>

"Maistress?" Aelfwyn was at her side at once, eyes full of concern. "I heard thee sigh. What ails thee?"

Marion looked up at him and smiled, patting his hand. "Nothing, Aelfwyn," she said. "I was -- thinking of the past, that's all."

"Thou art sure?"

"I'm sure."

Not looking entirely as though he believed her, Aelfwyn patted her shoulder, then picked up a couple of apples and prepared them for baking in the ashes of the fire as it was burned down.

They ate their food in a companionable mood. Aelfwyn told her mischievously ribald tales and gossip to make her laugh, and she in turn related some of the adventures that she had had as an outlaw. But once his belly was full, Aelfwyn settled down on the bank with a sigh and then gradually fell asleep, leaving Marion to toy with the cooling remains of her baked apple. No longer hungry, she threw the remains into the fire and watched Aelfwyn sleeping, envying him his ability to sleep so blithely whenever the mood took him.

...And then suddenly hugged her knees, biting her lips as she tried to think of something -- *anything* -- other than Aelfwyn...because she could feel an unexpected and treacherous sensation beginning to well up inside her, writhing and coiling uncertainly along her limbs and down towards her loins. She tried to turn her attention to the forest and the river, but it was hopeless. There was laughter in the flowing waters of the Trent and merry whispers in the leaves of the trees that turned her attention again and again to the young man sleeping no more than a few yards away from her; it was almost as if something -- or some*one*? -- in the forest *wanted* her to admire the sleeping Aelfwyn. It was insane. These were no more than wild thoughts engendered by what she'd seen the previous night and by her lack of sleep, she told herself -- unsuccessfully. For it was no use. The boy *had* enchanted her -- had woven some kind of spell that now trapped her in a silken web from which she knew she had no desire to escape.

She let her gaze wander over him once more and felt her throat begin to tighten. With his broad shoulders, supple body, slim hips and firm thighs, it was no wonder that anyone and everyone seemed to want to bed him. There was no doubt that he was a handsome creature -- and even though his face was nothing like as comely as Robin's, Aelfwyn's oddly whimsical features had an other-worldly beauty that only added to the growing hunger that now gnawed inside her and the coils of need that curled and tumbled, now more sure of themselves, in the cavern between her thighs.

Suddenly her body and limbs seemed weightless and she rose to her feet as though pulled by strings. In a dream she walked towards the sleeping youth and then knelt down at his side. For a while she watched him, her head cocked on one side, and marvelled at this strange, gentle boy. And then, when the inner promptings grew too strong for her to ignore, she reached out to Aelfwyn and tugged at his sleeve to wake him.

"Maistress!" exclaimed Aelfwyn sleepily, rubbing vigorously at his eyes. "What is it? Be it robbers? Be there some ill news from thy father?"

But Marion said nothing, and any further words from Aelfwyn were stilled -- without doubt by the expression on her face. And before she'd had time to think too deeply about what she was doing, she had embraced him and then fastened her hungry mouth to his. At first the boy seemed startled -- and then his body melted against hers and he returned her kiss, rolling her beneath him on the turf and parting her thighs with his knee as his tongue probed softly against her lips until the last of her fears and uncertainties melted away and she finally allowed him to deepen the caress.

They remained locked in each other's arms for some time, their mouths increasingly bold -- and as that initial deep kiss became the first of several slow, lingering pleasures, at last Marion openly acknowledged the fact that she felt the stirring of her sexual needs for the first time in God knew how long.

"Touch me..." She took his hand and folded it forcefully around her breast. "Feel me," she whispered softly. "Please, Aelfwyn. *Please*."

Marion cried out with delight and fear as Aelfwyn obeyed her, his hands alternately stroking her buttocks and fondling her breasts, gently rubbing at her hardened nipples with his thumbs. And when her body began to long for the feel of the youth's lips on the sensitive tips of her breasts, Marion knew that the agonizingly sweet pulsing between her thighs needed to be stilled -- and that only a lover could fulfil her needs.

She seized the youth's hand and drew it down beneath her skirts. "Feel how I burn for you," she sighed, her breath hot against his face as she began to rub herself against his palm. "Feel how much I want you -- how much I need to feel you inside me. Oh Aelfwyn, my dear one, I *know* I've not always been your friend -- but you've always been kind to me." Her breathing was becoming more uneven. "Please, Aelfwyn, be kind to me now. *Please*, Aelfwyn. *Please*." She began to pull at the lacing on his breeches, her long-absent drives afflicting her with a drunkenness that made her unthinking.

But Aelfwyn pushed her hands away. "Nay, Maistress. I -- *we* -- cannot."

Marion merely laughed, kissing his neck as her fingers returned to his laces. "Don't be afraid," she assured him throatily. "I won't tell my father. I won't tell *anyone*. This we'll keep just between *us*, Aelfwyn my love. *Please*, Aelfwyn." She smiled at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "My barn is empty, Aelfwyn -- won't you fill me with your grain?"

But Aelfwyn pulled himself roughly out of her arms and leapt to his feet, fists clenched, face pale, eyes scared and anxious. "Nay, Maistress!" he gasped in horror. "*Nay*! I *cannot*!"

"*Why* not?"

A great sadness came over the young pedlar. "Maistress," he said softly, "'tis not *right* for me to love thee! Oh Maistress, though thou art most wond'rous fair and I do find thee most beauteous, 'tis not right for me to set my plough to thy field -- least of all in *Sherwood*, where thy dear lord was king. I am not worthy of thee, lady -- i' faith I am *not*." He ran his hands through his hair distractedly as Marion stared up at him, her skirts still splayed around her thighs. "Ah now, Maistress!" he cried. "Cover thyself, my lady, lest someone comes!"

Now deeply embarrassed by her behaviour, Marion obeyed him, already feeling the serpents of desire curling themselves up in preparation for another long sleep. "You think me a whore now, don't you..." she said sadly, her eyes averted.

"Nay, Maistress!" Aelfwyn insisted. He smiled at her when she looked up at him again. "Nay, thou art no *whore*!" he replied scornfully. Aelfwyn grinned. "Nay -- thou art full of love and warmth and fire, my lady. And thou hast not loved for a long time, so thou shouldst not be ashamed of what thou hast done this day. Thou needed love, my lady. But I am not the one who can give it to thee."

"Why not?"

He blushed. "Oh, thou asks me a question I almost dare not answer! Because I may not please thee, and I would not like to fail in thy bed. Thou might spurn me if I do not please thee as thy Robin did, and I would know that I had failed thee. Besides, I be only a pedlar, Maistress; I am not worthy of thee."

Marion held out a hand and he helped her to her feet. "You are indeed a strange child," she smiled, still slightly uncertain. "You're forgetting that I married a *wolfshead*. And I wouldn't spurn you, Aelfwyn -- you seem to me such a caring soul that I believe you would be as fine a lover as any lady might wish for." <Indeed, I know you would be,> she almost said aloud. <I saw how much you pleased Bennet...>

Aelfwyn blushed even more and Marion felt her heart warming to him. <That I can go from lover to mother in such a short breath with this one!> she chuckled to herself. Then she turned back to him. "It's getting chilly, Aelfwyn. Perhaps we should be going back," she suggested.

Aelfwyn looked relieved. "Aye, Maistress," he said gratefully. "I think we should!"

Marion looked round at the remnants of their meal, then began to pack up the food-basket again while Aelfwyn doused the fire -- and wondered to herself as to why she didn't feel as guilty for having tried to seduce Aelfwyn as she thought she ought to have done...

* * * * * * * * *

For the rest of the day Marion found Aelfwyn shy, awkward and embarrassed in her presence. Not that she was surprised, since she had similar feelings herself, remembering how blatantly she had offered herself to him. But all the same she felt that in some strange way she had the upper hand because she clearly didn't feel as full of remorse as Aelfwyn did. <And why *should* I?> she reasoned with herself. And then just as quickly asked herself why she *didn't*.

All through supper that evening Marion listened to her father's stories, answered his questions, and laughed dutifully at his jokes. But all the same she was painfully aware that at heart all she could think of were the feelings that Aelfwyn had suddenly awoken in her -- and the knowledge that she couldn't sleep alone that night.

Perhaps as a consequence, the meal seemed endless -- and Marion found herself with little appetite. All she could do was force herself to pay less attention to Aelfwyn and more to her father.

Once supper was over, Aelfwyn disappeared to the stables to do the last of his day's chores before going to bed. Marion stayed working at her embroidery and talked with her father until he too retired to his chamber, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The faint but persistant stabs of fire in her loins told her that the serpents were waking from their slumber once more. She shifted in her seat, and tried to concentrate on her needlework -- but it was hopeless. Each time the needle pierced the fabric, she found her thoughts turning to the idea of Aelfwyn's body penetrating hers and knew that her feelings of arousal weren't going to vanish merely by her wishing them away. Already she could feel the changes in her body -- her nipples chafed against her gown when she moved, her loins were burning like a furnace, and the wetness between her thighs seemed to soak into her skirts.

She threw down her needlework impatiently and rested her head on her arms, mouth dry, then ran quickly to her chamber; she needed to be alone. Perhaps then she could make the feelings go away.

But as she reached for the heavy iron ring that opened her door, she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Thou art ill?" a familiar voice asked anxiously. "'Tis still early!"

Marion turned to face Aelfwyn and her breath caught in her throat. He was so beautiful, she thought. It was as though he'd come to her in answer to her prayers. "No," she replied. "I'm not ill. But thank you all the same, Aelfwyn."

"'Tis just that when I saw thee retire so early...thou art sure that thou art not ill?"

"I-I am," she stammered, feeling suddenly shy as she smiled up at him. "But thank you for your concern, Aelfwyn."

Aelfwyn's face was still anxious. "My lady, if there is ought I can do for thee..."

"I'm not ill, Aelfwyn," Marion repeated. "I just felt a little tired, that's all."

"Oh." Aelfwyn looked relieved. "I'm glad, Maistress!" he smiled. "Well," he added cheerfully, "thou knows that if there is ought I can do to help thee..." Then he smiled. "Sleep well, my lady. And if I can help thee at all -- "

<Help me?> Suddenly she felt daring. Reckless. Yes, she needed help. What if she were to...

She reached up and pulled Aelfwyn's head down to hers, her mouth covering his warm lips in a kiss which he returned eagerly, wrapping his arms around her body.

After some moments she pulled her mouth from Aelfwyn's. "Come with me," she gasped, half-turning and rubbing herself gently and almost absent-mindedly against the boy's firm thigh. "Please, Aelfwyn. Come with me."

"Maistress?"

"You said you wanted to help me," she reminded him.

Aelfwyn suddenly chuckled, his eyes full of knowing mischief. "Aye, Maistress," the boy replied huskily.

Taking care that they wouldn't be seen, Marion led the youth into her room and then closed the door behind them. Perhaps, she thought, this was madness. But the thought was soon dismissed; after the months he'd spent at the Grange, she knew that she could trust Aelfwyn -- could think of no-one better to approach for what she needed. She knew he was an incorrigible gossip, but she also knew that his heart was kind and that she could rely on him not to disclose the fact that she'd invited him into her bed because she was lonely; she needed someone who wouldn't spread that fact around the Grange and the Shires and drag what remained of her reputation through the mud.

Once the door was closed the room, lit only by a few torches, seemed uncannily quiet -- save for the pounding of her heart. She took both of Aelfwyn's hands in hers. "This isn't an easy thing for me to ask of you, Aelfwyn," she began hesitantly. "As I've admitted before, I haven't always been kind to you while you've been here, and we haven't always been friends. But since we began going to the forest I've -- come to think of you as someone who -- who understands me. And I trust you. Yes, I do need your help. That's why -- I'm asking to you lie with me tonight, Aelfwyn."

At once the boy's eyes widened. "Nay, Maistress. I cannot."

"Why *not*?"

"What of thy father, Maistress?"

"He need not know, Aelfwyn. I'm not sure that he would understand my need to be loved tonight."

Still the youth shook his head. "Thou art Robin i' the Hood's lady, Maistress. 'Twould be a grave insult to thy lord."

"Robin," began Marion sadly, "is dead. And I think *he* would understand that this is one night when I would prefer not to be alone. You understand, I'm sure, that I do not love you, Aelfwyn. But you're my friend, and you've been kind to me, and I care very much for you. Robin wouldn't begrudge me the comfort I seek when it's from someone like you who's helped me find peace in his kingdom once more. You'll never take his place, Aelfwyn. But for tonight..."

"Hush, Maistress. I understand thee well. But am I not too young for thee?"

Marion smiled at him fondly. "No! You've an old head on young shoulders -- and besides, I'm not so many years older than you are."

"I'm -- still not sure that I can willingly do as thou asks."

Marion looked into the boy's warm eyes. And remembered. "Of course," she sighed. "I didn't think." She looked up at him, almost guiltily. "I saw you and Bennet -- " She paused, wondering how best to describe what she'd seen. "I saw you and Bennet together in the Hall one night when I couldn't sleep."

"Maistress?"

"I -- I watched your love-making, Aelfwyn -- though I didn't mean to. Of course, that's your business, not mine. I'm sorry -- I didn't mean to offend you. If you would prefer not to lie with me for that reason -- "

"Nay, Maistress," smiled Aelfwyn kindly. "I take no offence. Bennet and I have been lovers since I was assigned to the stables by thy father. Bennet is lonely, Maistress. I sought to give him comfort and satisfy his hunger." Suddenly Aelfwyn looked at Marion with the same fey expression of desire that she'd seen in his eyes when he'd unfastened his breeches for Bennet. "But that does not mean that I would not like to lie with *thee*, Maistress. Thou art most fair and I will not deny that I desire thee. If it is comfort that thou seeks, Maistress, then it is thine. If it is thy hunger for which thou seeks satisfaction, then I am thine!" "Aye, Maistress..." His voice became low and husky. "Maistress, I will come to thy bed and pleasure thee -- if thou art willing to accept my terms."

"Your -- terms?" Marion's blood turned cold.

Aelfwyn saw the look on her face and smiled his reassurance. "Nay nay, Maistress," he laughed. "Look not so afeared. I do not demand thy soul or thy eternal devotion or monies or -- " He sighed, and then grinned at her, taking her hands in his and stroking them. "Maistress," he began gently, "I -- cannot lie with thee as man with woman. For the respect I have for thy Forest Lord, I would not wish to usurp his place -- "

"I've told you -- that cannot be."

"Nevertheless, sweet lady, I am not worthy of the honour thou offers me. But I will love thee all the same."

"How?"

Aelfwyn released her hands and then drew Marion close to him. She gasped as his mouth found its way to the sensitive spot on her throat and then moaned as his hand pressed lightly between her thighs. "I had a lover once who feared getting a bastard by me -- and she taught me other ways of pleasure than that of the sword in the sheath." He drew back and then grinned mischievously down at Marion. "These I will teach thee, if thou dost not know them already."

"Even if I did," she replied throatily, "I would have you teach them to me again."

She met his lips once more, then turned to lock and bolt the chamber door behind them. When she turned back to Aelfwyn she found that she was trembling violently; she could hardly believe the force of the need that was pulsing through her -- her entire body seemed to be on fire and the force of her beating heart seemed to be concentrated in the fiery chasm between her thighs. She looked up at Aelfwyn and the sensations became stronger when, in the light of the torches in the sconces, she saw the look of naked desire in his eyes.

She couldn't pull her gaze away from him. His half-elfin, half-comical face, full of need for her, was now more feral than human; it was a look that she'd seen many times before on the face of another such wild-wood creature -- but no, she mustn't think of *him*. Not tonight.

"Shall we begin, Maistress?" Aelfwyn asked, coming towards her.

"Yes," she whispered.

And then Aelfwyn stopped. "No," he said, his smile even more sensual -- and more dangerous. "I forgot. Thou art not 'Maistress' or 'My Lady' here." He came to her and took her face in his hands. "Here thou art 'Marion' -- or whatever else I may choose to call thee. There be no maistress and servant here. Thou shalt be *my* servant if I so wish it -- and I shall be thy maistre." And then he lowered his head and began to kiss her with an animal roughness that made her shiver with pleasure as she pressed closer and wound her arms around his neck.

But then he pulled away, his eyes glittering, and pulled off his tunic. He reached for the laces at Marion's throat, then paused. "Shall I undress thee, Marion?"

Marion nodded -- and he began to unfasten the gown, fumbling a little with the cords. "Shall I help you?" she asked, impatient with the youth's clumsy fingers.

"Aye," Aelfwyn replied. "I would not wish to tear thy gown in my eagerness."

"And are you eager?" Marion asked him, her need making her reckless.

Aelfwyn's smile was suddenly childlike. "Aye, my love. I be eager."

When the dress and her undershift were finally unlaced, Aelfwyn pulled the open neck across Marion's shoulders and then let the garments fall to the floor so that she stood in a puddle of fallen linen. At once Aelfwyn let out a sigh of rapture. "Thou art indeed fair, my love," he said. "Most *wond'rous* fair."

"Am I?" she asked, suddenly feeling both shy and flattered by his words and his adoring expression.

"Yes, my love," smiled Aelfwyn, drawing her naked body into his arms. "Thou wast truly worthy of thy fine forest lord. And he of thee."

He began to kiss her again and Marion closed her eyes and thought only of the delicious sensations of a man's mouth on her bare flesh. Aelfwyn's kisses were warm, loving, almost reverential -- but all the same they spoke of his hunger for her. And when at last he began to suck gently on each of her nipples in turn, she gasped and pulled his face closer to her breasts, pressing herself against him as though she wanted him to devour her as a reward for proving to her that she was still desirable.

"Please..." she moaned softly. "You needn't be so gentle. *Please*..."

"Thou art sure?"

"*Yes*...!" The answer came as a cry of longing.

Aelfwyn placed a kiss between her breasts. "Aye, my Marion," he replied, his voice muffled against her. "As thou wishes..."

Marion cried out in shocked delight as Aelfwyn began to suck greedily at her breasts, each time taking as much of her warm flesh into his mouth as he could, and then slowly releasing it until he was left with a taut nipple which he teased and nibbled at with his tongue and teeth. Then, as Marion drew in her breath and felt herself shudder, the boy knelt before her and his mouth moved lower -- over her abdomen, belly and upper thighs. Marion gasped again as his mouth moved over the rougher hair between her thighs, his tongue making little probing sorties into the warmth within -- and then she found herself wanting to pull his face closer still.

After more exquisite caresses, Aelfwyn got to his feet -- then gathered Marion up in his arms, carried her to the bed and laid her gently down upon it before lying down beside her. At once Marion reached out to him, eager to roll his body onto hers -- but Aelfwyn pulled away.

"Nay, Marion," he smiled. "Not yet. Else I shall forget myself and sheath my sword between thy thighs."

"Dear God, Aelfwyn," Marion sighed. "I wish you would..." Then she laughed. "Aren't you going to let me admire *your* body, love?"

"Nay, Marion," he grinned wickedly. "For what I have in mind, I have been told that it gives more pleasure if I keep my clothes *on*... -- as thou shalt discover."

The exquisite kisses and caresses continued to delight Marion, but she wished that Aelfwyn would lay his warm body on hers instead of keeping his distance. But then perhaps he was afraid of losing control of himself -- or maybe he was still a little shy, Marion reasoned, only semi-coherent now as the boy's fingers began to tease between her slightly parted thighs.

Suddenly Aelfwyn rolled away from her and she let out a moan of disappointment as he swung his legs down onto the floor. Aelfwyn turned and put a finger to his lips, grinning wickedly. He went to the foot of the bed, lay on his stomach, and then inched his way upwards until he had slipped his arms under her thighs. He ran his tongue along each inner thigh in turn, making Marion shiver when his mouth travelled over her warm mound as he moved between each thigh. With a catlike smile, she closed her hands over his, their fingers almost linked as Aelfwyn's hands returned to her breasts; shivering with delight she helped him to fondle herself, stroking the nipples eagerly and relishing Aelfwyn's roughness. She felt that she could lie like this forever, feeling the coarse fabric of Aelfwyn's shirt rubbing against her naked flesh. Now she understood what he meant about this being more pleasurable if he was still dressed -- and allowed her mind to dwell only on the young pedlar's caresses.

But just as she was enjoying Aelfwyn's kisses and reaching down to stroke his thick hair, his hands slid from her breasts. The youth pushed her thighs further apart, lifted her up slightly, and then took possession of her with his mouth. She cried out as he licked and sucked tenderly at the swollen little nub of flesh which only seemed to cry out for more as his mouth caressed it, and she spread her legs wider as he explored the warm, wet softness that she offered him. As the boy continued to give her this extraordinary pleasure, Marion's mind -- now fuddled with desire -- wondered how this would appear to an onlooker; herself naked and this youth, almost fully clothed, lying upon her bed, her legs spread wide and he between them, his mouth sucking eagerly and his tongue --

Dear God... The sounds coming from her throat were like those of an animal. Aelfwyn's arms clamped her down firmly and would not let her free as she began to writhe under his touch. She couldn't escape from his caresses -- and didn't want to. As the pleasure began to spiral up from deep within her, she pulled him closer, moving her body and guiding his head so that she had him exactly where she needed him. She lifted her hips rhythmically, urging him on with words she didn't realize she knew until suddenly the room span crazily out of control and all coherent thought ceased as her lower body shattered as if struck by an elf-bolt of indescribable pleasure. Again, all she could hear were her own moans of release as she continued to rise up to meet Aelfwyn's tongue until warmth and drowsiness finally rose up to claim her and she fell back against her covers, sweating and shivering as Aelfwyn lapped up the wetness that now dripped from her sated body with a tenderness and love that only made Marion want him all the more.

At length she felt him lie down beside her again. Marion reached out to him and they embraced each other. "Thank you, Aelfwyn," Marion whispered softly. "I never knew *anything* could be so pleasurable..."

Aelfwyn placed his finger against her lips. "Shush," he said. "Thou needst not thank me, my love. If I pleased thee, then I need no other thanks than that." Then he chuckled impishly. "Tell me, my love," he began. "I would like to know. Dost thou think that my former maistress taught me well?"

Marion giggled and hugged him. "I'd like to meet this mistress of yours, Aelfwyn," she said. "I would like to thank her. She taught you *very* well."

"Thou art not offended?"

Marion smiled drowsily and then stroked his cheek. "No, Aelfwyn. I'm not offended. Thank you. I didn't know that such pleasures existed -- and I'm sorry. Such sweetness should not be kept secret."

"Some think it a sin," the boy replied.

"A sin?"

"Aye. And we have sinned."

"How?"

"Think on it -- thy church tells us that pleasure be a sin. I have given thee pleasure. Therefore we have sinned."

"What rubbish," snorted Marion sleepily, nestling closer to Aelfwyn and slipping her hand into his tangled hair as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Aye. It be nonsense," chortled Aelfwyn. And then, more solemn, he said: "I do love thee, Marion."

Her eyes already closed, Marion frowned kittenishly. "Don't," she said.

"But I *do* love thee," Aelfwyn persisted.

"No," Marion said, snuggling closer still. "Don't say that. Don't tell me that you love me. I don't *want* you to love me, Aelfwyn -- you know that I don't love *you*. All I wanted was someone to ease the ache in my loins tonight -- nothing more. I'm not yet ready to fall in love again. Let's just remember what happened with joy for the pleasure we shared. Don't spoil everything, Aelfwyn."

"I'm surprised that thou can still think such deep thoughts after I have pleasured thee so well!" Aelfwyn laughed softly, blowing the hair away from her cheek and then kissing her. "Hear me, my beloved Marion. I do love thee as a friend, that is all. I have seen full well that thou art lonely and for the love I bear thy father I wanted to ease that pain of thine. I do not ask thee to love me as anything more than someone who cares for thy well-being. Thou art not obliged to fall in love with me just because thou and I have loved," Aelfwyn added mock-primly.

Marion laughed and kissed him, noting the strangeness of tasting herself on his lips. "Then I *do* love you, Aelfwyn." She hugged him and then stroked his face, her heart full of tenderness towards him. "And now -- would you not like me to pleasure you, Aelfwyn?" she asked softly.

But Aelfwyn shook his head. "Nay, Marion. There will be time enough for that when thou art ready. Besides, thou pleases me just by lying in my arms -- for is it not Robin o' the Greenwood's gentle lady that I hold to my heart?" He kissed her tousled head. "I say again, my fair one. I do love thee..."

* * * * * * * * *

When she woke the next morning, Aelfwyn had gone. He had wrapped her in her covers before leaving so that she wouldn't be cold in the chill of the early Spring night -- and once again Marion felt a powerful rush of affection for the young pedlar. Curling herself up in her blankets like a puppy she couldn't help but think of his protectiveness towards her and of what had happened the night before. And couldn't help smiling at the remembrance. She should, perhaps, have felt guilty -- but couldn't. It had been a long time since she'd felt so relaxed and at peace. *Too* long.

Suddenly she saw Loxley's face in her mind's eye. <Ah, Robin,> she thought wistfully, <I'll *never* stop loving you -- but one night with a kind, loving friend is no denial by me of your memory. And you'd like him, Robin -- I'm sure of it...>

The answering smile that she saw on Robin's face surprised her with its warmth and understanding...

She washed and dressed almost in a dream, and made her way down to the Hall on light feet. She greeted her father and the retainers present, but tried not to be over-effusive in her greeting of Aelfwyn, for fear of rousing suspicion concerning the sudden warmth between them. He returned her polite "Good Morning" and added one of his extraordinary smiles -- and at once she felt the colour blazing in her cheeks.

"I said -- what are you doing today, Marion my dear?"

"Hmmmn?" Marion jumped and looked blankly towards her father. "Father?"

Sir Richard shook his head and laughed. "You're in another world, my dear. What have you planned for today?"

"I -- have my duties," she replied quickly. "Then I thought I might tend to the bees that you bought for me."

"Are you not going walking in the forest with Aelfwyn today? I believe he told me that some of the early flowers are already in bloom -- "

"Nay, Maistre," Aelfwyn broke in apologetically. "If it be what my lady Marion wishes, then I will willingly escort her into Sherwood. But I had planned to visit the city today. 'Tis market day and I had intended to go visit old friends there, and mayhap sell some of my wares."

"That's alright, Aelfwyn," Marion said at once. "There will be other days."

"If thou art sure?"

"I'm sure," she smiled. "Enjoy your day."

Sir Richard finished breaking his fast before his daughter and his guest and, excusing himself, left his daughter and the pedlar alone. Marion waited until the Hall was clear of retainers, and then reached over and took Aelfwyn's hand.

"Thank you for being so kind to me last night, Aelfwyn."

He shrugged, looking bashful. "Thou hast thanked me already. And it is an honour for me to have made thee happy, Lady Wolfshead."

Marion suddenly looked deep into his eyes. "Aelfwyn," she said urgently, "I -- can't stop thinking about last night." Then she blushed -- and couldn't stop her thoughts becoming words. "I can't forget the pleasure you gave me. Even now my body aches for you."

Aelfwyn smiled at her with pride, his cheeks reddening. "Thou flatters me, Maistress."

"No flattery," she replied. "Oh Aelfwyn, if you only knew how long it's been since I've felt so content -- how long it's been since I've been capable of such feelings..."

"But I *do* know. The death of thy lord crushed thee and drained thee dry of all life; in spirit thou died with him. When two have loved as deeply and truly as thou did, 'twould be no wonder!"

"And -- you don't think -- *ill* of me for -- for last night?"

"Nay, Maistress," he smiled. "Though why thou shouldst be concerned about *my* humble opinion, I do not know, since thou art of higher degree than I -- but again, thou dost flatter me. But why should I think ill of thee, my lady? All thou needed was comfort, Maistress -- surely no-one of just mind can condemn that." Then he sighed. "And now, alas, I must leave thee for Nottingham."

He got up and went towards the Hall door -- but Marion couldn't help calling him back. "Aelfwyn, I need you."

"Need me, Maistress?"

"I told you, Aelfwyn; my body still aches for you."

"Aye, Maistress -- and I be honoured! But 'twould not be right to impose on thee again."

"No imposition, I assure you."

"But my lady -- "

"No 'my lady'. Please, Aelfwyn. Let me be just 'Marion' again. As I was last night."

Aelfwyn shook his head ruefully. "I can't -- there be no time -- "

"*Make* time, Aelfwyn. For *me*."

For a moment he stared at her. And then he began to laugh. "Aye, for thee I will make time," he said -- and then ran out of the Hall.

Puzzled, Marion called his name and then ran after him. She found him waiting for her in the courtyard; but when he saw her, he let out a gleeful cry and took off towards the forest. "Catch me -- if thou can," he called back to her.

So it was a game he wanted. Suddenly feeling full of childish pleasure, she followed him out of the courtyard and towards the greensward and the trees. She continued to follow him for some time, Aelfwyn taking care to slow down from time to time to let her think that she was gaining on him -- but it wasn't until they were well hidden from the Grange that he finally let her catch him, both of them laughing and out of breath.

"What are you up to?" she demanded, as they wound their arms around each other's waists. "Fancy making me run after you like that."

But Aelfwyn merely looked down at her, his eyes darker than ever. "Dost thou want me or not, Marion?" he asked huskily.

His voice sobered her at once. "I want you," she replied. "Love me, Aelfwyn."

"If thou will allow me again to love thee in the way that *I* choose. This is thy lord's kingdom and I would not wish to displease thy lord by taking possession of his sweet lady within his own domain."

Smiling, Marion shook her head. "Whatever you say, my friend." She lifted her lips for his kiss. "Be it as you wish, my -- *love*."

They kissed each other greedily, mouths eager, both loving and devouring. Running her hands over the youth's lightly-muscled back, Marion whimpered softly as Aelfwyn caressed her breasts; she gripped his firm round buttocks eagerly as Aelfwyn fondled and touched her, his kisses ever more demanding. She had been wet and ready for him from the moment she'd set eyes on him again that morning: now she was drenched with desire and more than eager for whatever he might care to do with her: she knew full well now that Aelfwyn wouldn't cause her any pain -- he cared too much for her for that.

After a dream-like age of feverish kisses, Aelfwyn hunkered down and took up the hem of her gown and undershift; then he straightened up, pulling up her clothes to bare her lower limbs. "My Marion..." he said softly, his hand reaching down between her legs. "I'faith, thou art more fair than a summer's day."

"And *you* are a gift sent by the angels," Marion laughed, eyes full of wonder. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the hand that now cupped her gently. "Please, Aelfwyn," she chuckled hoarsely. "Don't make me wait."

"You -- do not fear me?"

"No! Now please -- *fuck* me."

"As thou wishes."

Aelfwyn pushed her back against a tree and Marion moaned into his neck as he began to rub the ball of his hand against her; then, as her thighs parted she cried out as she felt first two, three, and then four fingers enter her. "Tell me *at once* if I do hurt thee," he said, his voice cautioning. "I do not wish to hurt thee -- faith, I would not forgive myself if I caused thee any pain..."

But she only shook her head and wound her arms more tightly around his neck, astounded by the strange new sensations. "You couldn't hurt me," she replied fiercely, pulling him closer. "You're the kindest, gentlest lover I could wish for, Aelfwyn! Now please -- go on -- don't stop..."

Aelfwyn's fingers slid deeper and his thumb rubbed gently at her sensitive bud. "Thou wilt have to help me, Marion," he whispered.

"Tell me how..."

"Thou art dear to me. Guide my hand so that I do not hurt thee."

Marion obeyed. She reached down and took his rough hand, already wet with her lubricating juices, and guided him until he was fully inside her; moaning with pleasure, she bit her lip as she felt herself being filled. "Is that well, my love?" she gasped.

"If it pleases thee, yes. But thou still has to help me." He placed his free hand against her buttocks and pushed gently. "Guide me again."

She understood at once, and slowly began moving her hips sensuously so that the youth's hand provided her with the pressure and stimulation that she needed. "Aelfwyn...my love..." she moaned softly as her movements impaled herself more firmly on his fingers and added to Aelfwyn's persistent stroking of her unsheathed bud with his thumb, rewarding her with the most exquisite sensations. And then, just as she seemed about to melt, the pleasure of release surged through her and she pressed herself hard against Aelfwyn's hand until, panting wildly and murmuring his name, she fell forward against the boy's shoulder.

"Aelfwyn..."

"My love?" he said fondly, as he kissed her damp forehead.

"Again..." she urged, nipping at his neck with her teeth. "*Again*..."

And, as Marion clung to him, Aelfwyn obeyed -- and with tenderness let her assuage the hunger she'd needed to release for so long until, finally exhausted, she was content to rest peacefully in the protective shelter of his arms.

* * * * * * * * *

Her body sated at last, Marion went dreamily about her tasks for the rest of the day. She felt as though she too was in the grip of a glorious Spring thaw, her affection for Aelfwyn growing by the hour. It wasn't *love*, and well she knew it. God knew, she didn't even find him particularly attractive except in a quirky, wild-wood way. But his complete acceptance of her need for sexual release and his non-judgmental attitude towards her concerning it warmed her heart towards him. It was as though nothing she might do or say could ever shock or disgust him, and that in itself freed her from any sense of guilt or shame; Aelfwyn saw her needs as normal and human and wanted only to help ease her pain and for her to be at peace.

It scared her that she felt no shame at allowing him to love her as he did -- and yet at the same time it made sense and felt right; it seemed to her that for Aelfwyn, nothing that gave pleasure could be something to be ashamed of. His admiration for Robin and his understanding of her loss also made it easy for her to care for him as she did; his strange courtliness was at once both poignant and endearing.

She was attending to her bees in the glow of the late afternoon when Bennet found her. She looked up at him with a slow, lazy smile, still dreaming of Aelfwyn's tongue and warm fingers inside her -- but the smile froze on her lips when she saw Bennet's face.

"My lady -- " he began edgily. "The boy. Have you seen him?"

Marion was frightened by the pall of anxiety on Bennet's normally bluff face. "No -- I've not seen him since this morning. What's -- wrong, Bennet?"

Bennet clenched his fists. "He should've been back by now, my lady. Something's wrong -- I can *feel* it."

"What could possibly be wrong, Bennet?"

"My lady -- " He broke off, shaking his head. "The boy has been known to get into fights, my lady," he said at last. "Some of the roughs of the city and some of the soldiers have been known to jibe at him because of his -- manner. He can hold his own with his fists and his feet, but only in a fair fight."

"And you fear that something like that has happened?"

"Aye, my lady, I -- "

The shouts and yells from the Grange cut into their conversation like a well-aimed blade. They stared at each other in horror for some moments and then both turned and ran with all speed towards the Grange.

There was pandemonium in the Grange's kitchen when Bennet and Marion got there. "What's happened?" demanded Marion, pushing her way through the press of people in the room. "Let me through!"

She almost wished they hadn't when the house-women let her through and she saw the cause of the consternation. For Aelfwyn was slumped on a settle, the remains of his broken tray around him. The carter and his boy who'd brought him back from the city were supporting his weight as Alys and her mother tried to comfort the half-stunned young man.

Marion felt sick. "What happened to him?" she asked the carter.

"'E were set upon by soldiers," the carter replied. "I saw it 'appen."

"Why did they set upon him?"

"He'd answered back to them, my lady. One of them made some crack about 'is face an' the lad told the soldier what 'e thought of *'is* face."

"Oh Aelfwyn," sighed Marion. "You *fool*." Taking command of herself once more after several deep breaths, she ordered the chattering women out of the way, then turned to the carter and his boy. "Will you carry him to the still room for me?" she asked. "I'll attend to his wounds there." She ordered the eldest kitchen maid to boil up some water and to bring it to the still-room when it was ready. Then she turned back to the carter. "Is he badly hurt?"

The carter shrugged, then hauled one of the youth's arms over his shoulder as his son did the same. "They gave 'im a good kickin', an' they 'aven't done 'is face much good. Bruises, mostly, I'd say, an' sore ribs -- though where they've 'it 'im with their mailed gloves they've caused a fine mess."

Marion led the way to the still room, hardly able to take this all in. The boy who'd loved her that morning was covered in blood and bruises, his clothes torn and his hair matted with dirt and blood. It hardly seemed possible that the face which had smiled down at her so tenderly then could now be so disfigured.

The carter and his boy laid Aelfwyn down on a settle leaning against a wall in the room and then Marion told Bennet to take them to the kitchen and ask whichever of the kitchen-maids was still around to give them some food and drink. Bennet obeyed, but he seemed agitated and unwilling to leave. Understandable, Marion told herself. Aelfwyn had been *her* lover, too. "It's alright," she told him softly. "I understand. But I'll take care of him, Bennet."

The big bearded man gave one last anxious glance at the injured youth and then did as he was asked. Once he'd gone, Marion went across to the settle and touched the youth's shoulder. "Can you hear me, Aelfwyn?" she asked. "It's Marion."

He stirred and groaned, and at length his eyelids, caked with dried blood, cracked open. "Sweet Maistress..." he whispered, reaching a filthy, bruised hand up to her face.

"Thank God you're still in one piece," she said. "What did they do to you?"

"Kicked me, beat me, punched me -- the soldiers of thy fine Sheriff are well-skilled in such things, Maistress."

"Can you sit up unaided, Aelfwyn? I'll have to fetch some salves and cloths from the cupboard." With her help, Aelfwyn struggled upright and then leaned against the wall. She went to get the things she needed to treat his wounds. "Don't ever do anything like that again," she told him sternly as she began to clean away the blood and dirt from his face and hair. "The Sheriff of Nottingham's soldiers are dangerous men."

"Aye, and they do not fight fair, Maistress. A half dozen of them against one of me is not fair odds."

"It's not funny, Aelfwyn. They might have killed you."

"Aye, Maistress. Thou art right," he said, taking her hand. "'Twas no joke. Thy Sheriff's soldiers would not have grieved for my death."

"But *I* would have," Marion said, blushing as the kitchen-maid came in with the hot water in a huge cauldron. "And so would Bennet, I think."

Aelfwyn smiled proudly. "I have good friends, Maistress. I am indeed very lucky."

"Now hush," said Marion, pouring some of the hot water into a crock bowl. "Let me clean your wounds."

The water was soon as filthy as Aelfwyn had been -- but now that his face, neck and hands were clean, Marion was relieved to see that the boy's wounds were largely superficial. It was a matter of being sure that dirt didn't infect the wounds and that she applied healing salves as quickly as possible.

His body wounds were another matter. "You'll have to take off your clothes, Aelfwyn," she said, squeezing a wet cloth into the bowl of dirty water. "The carter said that the soldiers may have bruised your ribs, so I'd better have a look. There are grazes and cuts to your body, legs and arms where your clothes have been torn -- dear heaven, Aelfwyn," she said, shaking her head in dismay. "They were thorough with you, weren't they."

Aelfwyn looked uneasy. "Nay, Maistress. There is no need. I can attend to my own wounds."

"Don't be silly," she smiled.

"Maistress, thou hast been too kind already."

"Aelfwyn, I *must* tend to your other wounds, too; take off your clothes and let me clean them, and then I'll apply my herbs and salves."

"*No*, Maistress..."

The fact that he still had the strength to answer her back made her light-headed with relief. "What are you so afraid of? You've lain with me, Aelfwyn -- you came to my bed and loved me last night, and this morning you made love to me again. Oh Aelfwyn -- can you not trust me to tend your wounds? Surely you're not -- *shy*, are you?"

"Maistress, it would not be right..."

Marion smiled at him. "Don't be afraid," she told him kindly. "I've seen a man's naked body before, Aelfwyn -- I've been married, remember."

Aelfwyn let out a weary, resigned sigh. "As thou wishes, Maistress," he said, an odd note in his voice. "But do not say that I have not warned thee."

Turning her back on him as he began to pull off his clothes, Marion poured the dirty water into the runnel in the floor and then rinsed the dregs of dirt from the bowl before filling it again from the cauldron of hot water. "There are poultices I can put on your ribs -- herbs to draw out bruises and soothe your pain." Then she grinned. "Maybe this will teach you not to fight with soldiers, Aelfwyn. You may be made of strong stuff, but it's not strong enough to take on the Nottingham guard. After all," she added, as she turned back to him, picking up her cloths as she did so, "you're still only a skinny little boy."

Still laughing, she raised her eyes...

And then the crock bowl fell from her nerveless hands and shattered with a sound like a crack of thunder on the floor, sending pot-shards and water in all directions as with a startled shriek she clasped her hands to her mouth. For what seemed like an age all she could do was stand in dumb disbelief, staring at Aelfwyn with huge, round eyes. She continued to gape dumbly at her lover, shaking her head and feeling that she was about to descend into madness. Then at last she found her voice.

"No -- " she gasped. "*No*! It -- *can't* be..."

Aelfwyn stretched out a hand to her. "Marion, my love -- please -- let me explain -- "

But Marion only backed further away -- and then her tight throat forced out the scream that had been constrained there -- and she kept *on* screaming, louder and louder still, until Bennet came running in. He took one look at the naked youth, then at Marion's pale, horrified face, and immediately understood.

He picked up another bowl, went across to the cauldron and filled it with water. He picked up the cloths that Marion had dropped and held both bowl and cloths out to her. "Well?" he asked gruffly. "Aelfwyn's been badly hurt. Aren't you going to tend to her wounds, my lady?"

Marion did not reply. All she could do was stand and stare, as a multitude of emotions tore and flayed at her fragile soul. Words could not fully describe what she felt at that moment -- disbelief, fear, betrayal, shame, horror...

"My lady," Bennet said again. "The child's wounds. I am no healer. Will you not take care of Aelfwyn's hurts?"

At last Marion managed to speak. "No I will *not*," she spat back, her voice full of the disgust and revulsion that she felt. "I don't want to lay my hands on that -- that *thing* ever again."

"Aelfwyn's no 'thing'," replied Bennet calmly. "Help the poor child."

"I'm sorry, Marion," Aelfwyn said softly. "But I warned thee. Thou knows that I would never have willingly hurt thee, my love -- "

"I am not your love!" screamed Marion, almost hysterical. "Dear God in heaven -- *I am not your love*! Sweet Jesu -- to think that I took you to my bed and begged you to lie with me. Oh God -- when I think of what I let you do to me! That I let you use your hands and mouth on me -- that I called you my lover!" Suddenly she ran towards Aelfwyn, fingernails extended like claws, wanting to hurt -- wound -- do *something* to calm the raging turmoil within her; but Bennet effortlessly restrained her and Marion could only use words to let out her anger at the pedlar. "You're *unnatural*," she howled. "How could you have told me that you loved me -- even as a friend -- when all the time you were lying to me? Letting me think that you were what you aren't? Leading me to trust you? How far would you have taken me, Aelfwyn? Did you want us to lie naked together as lovers?"

"Marion..."

"I want you out of this house. *Now*! What do you think my father will say when he finds out that his precious surrogate son is in truth a *daughter*? What did you take me for, Aelfwyn? Did you really think that I might, if you ensnared me well enough, be content to be a *woman's* whore?"

"You'll stay *here*, Aelfwyn," Bennet said firmly. Then he turned to Marion. "You've said enough, lass. It's lucky that I sent all the retainers far enough away from the still-room not to be able to hear what's been said. Now. I understand that you've had a bad shock, but will you tend Aelfwyn's wounds -- or shall I?"

"I -- don't know...I have to think..."

"Well don't take too long. I'll go and fetch Aelfwyn fresh clothes from my cousin's boy; they're about the same size." He released Marion and then left the room. Marion slumped onto a stool by the still-room table, now almost too numb to even think.

Aelfwyn coughed. "I'm -- sorry. I never meant to hurt thee. I came here to help."

Marion didn't reply. There didn't seem to be anything more that she could say. She closed her eyes, as though hoping that when she opened them again, everything would be changed -- but it wasn't. She looked again at Aelfwyn who, though clearly in pain, accepted her angry, hate-filled scrutiny with a dignity and bravery that Marion had to grudgingly admire. Marion's eyes met Aelfwyn's as the pedlar raised her head defiantly; the young noblewoman's eyes moved downward, taking in Aelfwyn's lithe, boy-like body, hips that Marion now saw were slightly curved -- and her high, firm breasts and her smooth, female mound with its covering of dark brown curls. No wonder he -- *she* -- had refused to let Marion come too close during their love-making.

Marion shuddered, unable to contain her self-loathing. She'd grown to love Aelfwyn as a trustworthy, companionable, understanding friend -- as one with whom she could share her need for physical love without commitment -- but now she felt disgusted that she had ever wanted Aelfwyn in her bed. She closed her eyes. <How *could* I -- *I'm* no aberration. And yet still I wanted a woman to share my bed; dear God -- I wanted a woman as my lover...>

Then she remembered. They *had* been lovers. It didn't seem possible. She put a trembling hand to her forehead. <Dear God -- what have I *done*? But then I didn't *know*. Doesn't that make a difference?>

"I'm -- sorry, Marion."

Still rubbing her forehead, Marion looked up, distracted. "What?"

"I said -- I'm sorry."

At last Marion turned her eyes to Aelfwyn. "You're *sorry*?" she snapped. But then her heart softened towards the girl when she saw how dejected and lost Aelfwyn, trying unsuccessfully to cover herself with her arms, now appeared.

"I -- I bind my breasts and dress the way I do to protect myself from those men who would use me as a slut, were they to know my true sex," Aelfwyn said, her face averted as she wiped away tears with the back of her hand. "I never meant to hurt thee. By Frigg-Saga who sees and knows all things I swear to thee that I never meant thee any harm. All I wanted was to be thy friend and to teach thee that -- as long as Sherwood stands, thy Robin, thy dearest love, will be with thee. That in Sherwood he is *never* far from thee. I wanted to teach thee to love his forest once more." She hung her head. "I did not mean to fall in love with thee. But I did."

Marion sighed. "But you *shouldn't* have fallen in love with me. It's not right."

"Thou didn't push me away," Aelfwyn reminded her.

"I thought you were a boy, not a young woman."

"Would it have made any difference if thou had?"

"Of *course* it would," Marion said. "If I'd known you were a woman I would perhaps have been your friend, but I would *never* have willingly asked for -- for -- the things I asked of you when I thought you were a boy."

"And now thou art ashamed of thyself. And thou art angry with me." Crushed, Aelfwyn shook her head unhappily. "I wish thou were not. Thou shouldst not be ashamed of thyself because what thou did thou did in all innocence and ignorance. I can understand why thou art angry with me, but in truth I could not help but love thee when thou asked me to. Thou art fair and gentle and I thought that by giving thee what thou needed I would in turn be honouring he that loved thee above all others."

Marion sighed. "Oh Aelfwyn, what are we to do with you *now*?"

Aelfwyn's face crumpled in dismay. "Dost thou want me to leave, Maistress?"

"You surely don't think that you can stay on here after this?"

"I had hoped..."

"What am I to tell my father, Aelfwyn?"

Aelfwyn looked even more distressed. "Nay!" she cried. "Thou must not!"

Just then, Bennet came back, bearing a bundle of clothes. "Here," he said, throwing them at Aelfwyn. "Put them on."

As Aelfwyn got dressed, Bennet folded his arms across his chest and looked at Marion. "What are you going to do now, my lady?

"*Do*? What do you mean -- what am I going to do?"

"Aelfwyn. Is she to stay, or is she to be sent away from Leaford?"

"That is for my father to decide."

"Should you decide to tell him what you know."

"Don't you think I *should*?" Marion replied icily. "My father took Aelfwyn in believing her to be a boy: I do not think that it would please him to know that he has been deceived and made a fool of."

"All the more reason not to tell him what you know then, my lady."

There was something in Bennet's smile that Marion did not care for. "Are you -- *threatening* me?"

Bennet flicked his eyes up to the ceiling and then roared with laughter, shaking his head. "No, my lady. I am not threatening you. In fact, I'm trying to make you see sense."

"What do you mean?" demanded Marion curiously, as she watched a now-dressed Aelfwyn buckling a leather belt over her borrowed jerkin.

Bennet sighed. "Lady Marion, you know that I love your father. He is a great man, and it is an honour to serve him. As his daughter, and because you are as fine as he is, I also love *you*. Now. *Think*. If you reveal to your father that Aelfwyn is a woman, then your father will no doubt be surprised, but I don't think he will be greatly disturbed. Indeed, he will be greatly relieved, I think."

"Why?"

Bennet chuckled ruefully. "Because Aelfwyn and I have not exactly been cautious, my lady. Aelfwyn has told me that you yourself came upon us at our swyving one night." Bennet sighed, smiling. "It's a wonder you did not catch us before! You see, she reminded me all too well of what I had missed since the death of my beloved Edith -- and we took whatever opportunities were offered to us to enjoy each other's bodies. Unfortunately, you are not the only one who has seen us, my lady -- and I fear that if anyone has passed on such news to your father, he may be surprised at what he hears! It would reassure him to know that I had taken a mistress and not a catamite."

"Indeed," Marion nodded.

"But -- " Bennet's voice was suddenly serious. "I think you shouldn't tell him about Aelfwyn because of what will be reflected back on yourself."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"My lady, think. Many will not approve of my loving a boy, but many will understand my wanting what comfort he could offer me -- though they might wonder why I could not have chosen a prettier boy that my little Aelfwyn! Now if once they knew that Aelfwyn was a girl, they would understand me: but they would not understand *you*."

Marion stared at him open-mouthed. "*Me*? I don't understand..."

Bennet sighed, and looked uncomfortable. "My lady, this isn't easy for me to say. I want you to know that you will always have my love and respect. But the fact is that despite all the care you took to conceal your actions, there are those who know that Aelfwyn shared your bed last night..."

Marion felt as though the floor was sinking from beneath her. "But -- how..."

"I did not tell," Aelfwyn said at once, her expression one of mortification.

"That's true, my lady. She didn't." Bennet sighed. "But someone -- I don't remember who -- was passing your room last night and -- heard you."

Marion's hands flew to her mouth. "Heard me? Heard -- *us*?"

"Aye, my lady. The kitchen-maids told me -- they were delighted. 'Isn't it wonderful?' one said to me. 'The mistress has found herself a nice young man to warm her bed!' 'About time,' said another. 'She needs someone to put the colour back in her cheeks!' Forgive me," Bennet added with a gentle grin. "They're very coarse, these lasses. But they're happy for you, my lady -- as am I. They -- we -- don't condemn you for taking a lover." Suddenly his face was serious. "Indeed, they're jealous. Because they know your lover was Aelfwyn -- the maid heard her voice -- and you know how they all swoon over their jolly pedlar."

At last understanding was beginning to sink into Marion's head, with its wildly-spinning thoughts. "So if they knew the truth -- "

"Aye, my lady. It would be round the Shire in no time -- 'the lady Marion prefers the company of women in her bed these days,' they'll say. 'Who would have thought it?' Do you really think it would please your father to have it said of his daughter that she delights in unnatural practices?"

Marion shook her head. "No."

"Then you must say nothing," Bennet said sadly. "I would sooner have it said that I prefer the company of pretty young boys than I would that you prefer a woman to warm your bed rather than a man. *My* shoulders are broad enough to take the jibes, my lady -- and in truth I do not think that they would last long. It will be dismissed as idle speculation."

"Whereas with *me* -- "

"Thou hast thy reputation to think of," said Aelfwyn. "People may speak ill of thee now, curse them, but they will say worse if they were to know that we lay together, Maistress."

"Aelfwyn and I will say nothing to anyone -- of that you can be certain."

"Yes," sighed Marion. "I know that I can trust you."

Bennet nodded. "You have my word of honour, my lady."

"And mine," added Aelfwyn quickly.

Marion smiled wanly. "Thank you," she said.

"Now." Bennet was taking charge again. "To Aelfwyn. Will you tend the child's wounds if I help you?"

Feeling numb, Marion agreed -- and Aelfwyn pulled off her borrowed clothes again so that Marion and Bennet could clean and apply healing poultices to her cuts and bruises.

But as she helped Bennet, and as she chided Aelfwyn for her child-like complaints about odd smells and stinging salves, Marion suddenly felt lost and bewildered. So her reputation was to be safe. All well and good. But now she saw that her problems were only just beginning.

No, she couldn't send Aelfywn away -- for the sake of her father, of Bennet -- and of herself. For although she now knew the truth about Aelfwyn, what scared Marion was the fact that at heart her feelings towards Aelfwyn remained unchanged.

Marion knew that these were feelings she ought to fight against and wipe from her mind, but the thought continually came back to her that she'd grown to care for Aelfwyn a great deal -- and the feelings she had were by no stretch of the imagination platonic -- just as Aelfwyn's feelings towards Marion herself clearly weren't. And did it *matter*? After all, Marion reasoned, all that had changed was that Aelfwyn had been revealed to be a young woman and not a boy -- and one who'd won a place in Marion's heart with charm and kindness.

With Aelfwyn Marion felt that she'd somehow stepped outside the common run of things. Marion wasn't sexually attracted to other women -- indeed, she found the idea totally repugnant. And yet, if what she had grown to love was the person who lived inside Aelfwyn's skin, did it really make any difference whether she were a man or a woman?

All of which left Marion with just two thoughts: what did these feelings make her, and what on earth was she to do *now*?

* * * * * * * * *

The last weeks of April passed into May and Marion and Aelfwyn studiously avoided being in each others company for fear of eliciting more cheerful gossip. For Marion there was the added complication of her unsettling affection for her new friend -- but until such a time as Aelfwyn herself grew tired of life at Leaford, there was no way that the girl could be ordered to leave the Grange without her father's curiosity being aroused.

But eventually their friendship blossomed once more: it was impossible to be without Aelfwyn's cheerful company for long.

The younger woman's relief was touching. "I feared that thou would never wish to be in my presence again, Maistress," Aelfwyn told her shyly one day. "Faith, I was so afraid that thou and I were no longer friends."

Marion chuckled. "If you only knew what confusion you've caused me, young lady! But I've missed you, Aelfwyn," she added gravely. "We had such grand times together, talking and riding in Sherwood and studying the stars and making things for you to sell...oh Aelfwyn, how could I reject you after all you've done for me!"

"Even though I did not tell thee that I was a girl? And that I was willing to love thee as thou wished?"

Marion coloured and shook herself. "Such thoughts unsettle me," she admitted. "But you meant me no harm? You only wanted me to be happy?"

"Aye! I meant thee no harm. Thou *knows* it, Maistress."

Marion laughed. "And yet I keep asking you, don't I!"

Aelfwyn looked serious. "'Tis no wonder, Maistress. Were *I* in your place, I too would seek such assurances."

Marion nodded. "Indeed. But Aelfwyn, listen to me -- we were friends before, and friends we'll remain."

"Thank thee, Maistress!" beamed Aelfwyn delightedly.

Marion smiled. "And so. What shall we do today, Aelfwyn?"

"Swimming!" announced Aelfwyn at once. "Yes -- swimming. In the pool beside the twisted ash! The weather is warm enough at last, I think? Would thou agree, Maistress?"

* * * * * * * * *

Marion had agreed eagerly. She hadn't swum since the days when she'd been an outlaw and the thought appealed to her; the day was unseasonably hot, and she felt certain that the water would refresh her. Besides, she relished the thought of a day spent roaming beneath the boughs of the forest in the company of a woman who made her feel so content.

It was quite a walk to the pool, and both were glad to reach its cool waters; soon Aelfwyn and Marion were diving and gliding beneath the waters like two pink fish. From time to time they left the water to eat from the basket of food that the kitchen maids -- with numerous winks -- had given them; and, as the day wore on, so their moods lightened more and more as they giggled and splashed each other like children.

"Had enough?" Marion asked eventually, brushing wet hair from her eyes.

Aelfwyn nodded. "Aye. My fingers are