"Well, of course, if you want to...Heaven knows I'd appreciate your help..."
" 'Tis done!" The spark snapped. "I am free of Toutarien and bonded to you—till I wish to sever the bond, at least!"
"You were always free to. But you must understand what you're getting yourself into."
"Dost truly think this kinglet you fight can do damage to me?" Max said in scorn.
"No—but Sir Guy is over there trying to talk Puck into staying with the team. Just annexed to Sir Guy, is all."
The spark danced in midair, humming to itself a while. Then it sang, "I can endure his company, if I need not speak to him save with the strongest of causes."
"Done." Matt nodded. " In fact, I recommend that if he talks to you, you don't answer."
"Oh, be assured that I shall!" The singing turned flat and harsh. "And long will he regret it!"
"Friends, remember," Matt cautioned, "or at least allies.. But at the moment, it would be politic if you got out of sight."
"A point," the spark agreed, and vanished.
Matt noticed that his wallet warmed up at his belt, and felt reassured. He turned to Sir Guy. "Any luck?"
"He is my man," Puck answered, grinning, "and I shall ride on his shoulder. Think naught of such favors as you owe me, Wizard—I shall be too busy brewing mischief with this knight to concern myself with you."
"Very generous of you," Matt murmured. "Sir Guy, you sure you know what you're doing?"
"Aye." The Black Knight grinned. "And if you will excuse me, Sir Matthew, we have already begun to brew a coil for the army that sits without our gate." He turned away, holding Puck in a palm and chatting like an old friend.
Matt gazed after, heaving a sigh of relief, but having a hard time accepting it all.
"Why do you stand amazed, Lord Wizard? Are you so surprised at your own peacemaking?"
Matt looked up and was astonished to see Marian standing beside him. For a split second, he was lost in the dazzle of her beauty; then the memory of how she had dented heads with a quarterstaff came to mind, and he managed to pull back to a safe emotional distance. From that vantage point, he noticed that Robin was conducting his band to places around the great fire pit near an inner wall and detailing a few to join the guard on the walls. The net result was that, for the moment, Matt was alone with Marian.
It wasn't the world's most comfortable feeling. What do you say to a legend? Especially one who had turned out to be rather intimidating? "Uh...don't you get a bit lonely, being the only woman in the band?"
"Oh, but I am not." The smile dazzled him again. "There are Allan-a-Dale's wife, and Will Scarlet's leman, and the wives of most of the other men of the band, save those who are too young."
"Families?" Matt stared, amazed. "But...but...you're a military unit! A guerrilla band!"
"Guerrilla?" Maid Marian frowned, puzzled; then her face cleared. "Ah! 'Tis a Spanish word, is't not?"
"Why, yes. I think it means `little war.' " Matt was surprised that the woman showed evidence of education; it hadn't been common for anyone in the Middle Ages.
But then, Marian was a gentlewoman, a lady—only a generation or two from minor aristocracy. "l, uh—don't see any other women around."
"Nay. They wait in Sherwood, with the older men and striplings, where they bide in safety. I have not yet a child, so I am free to come venturing."
At a guess, she and Robin were finally married—but it would be difficult to think of her as anything but "Maid" Marian. "I take it you won't have any difficulty going back to your home, uh, world."
"Returning, no. Coming..." Marion shrugged. "We must know where there's need of us, ere we can march. But once having traveled the route, 'tis easy enough to go back."
Matt hadn't realized Robin Hood was himself magical. He should have, of course. "Do you still, uh...serve King Richard, though in his absence?"
"Ah! You know our tale well, I see. Aye, we served the Lionheart long, and aided in gathering pennies from the poor for his ransom—and jewels from the wealthy. So we labored, and guarded his people, till he was finally returned to England and put down his usurping regent John."
So. Scott had written better than he knew. But why not? With an infinity of universes, anything Scott had imagined must have really happened, somewhere. "So you all would have been happy to retire, as long as Richard lived?"
A shadow crossed Marian's face. "Oh, he rewarded my Robin amply, with restoration of his family's estates and two others that were taken from men who leagued with John. But the sheriff of Nottingham he would not punish, claiming he had only been obedient to his lord, as he should."
"A little shortsighted of him."
"He was in so many things. Within a few months, we saw he truly held no love for England; he was already dunning his noblemen for more gold, to take him adventuring again. In a year's time he was gone from England, and his brother was regent again."
"I know." Matt shook his head. "Rights of succession aside, he still should have known better."
"He did not truly care." Marian's voice hardened. "And John set the sheriff once again to plaguing my Robin, with boundary disputes and taxes on every excuse—yet he could be no more to him than a nuisance. But he could throw Robin's men into prison on the slightest pretext, and he seized upon the first who poached, to put him to death."
"Robin didn't let him get away with that, did he?"
Marian shook her head. "He rode against the sheriff in force, and in armor, and wrested his man from the Nottingham gaol. Then did John pronounce him once again outlaw, in that he had moved against the king's law—and Robin and I were off to the greenwood once more, with all our household, and our estates confiscated. But Robin's old band came, one by one, to find him in the forest, and we set ourselves to plague the sheriff as in days of old. Then Richard died."
Matt nodded. "In a pointless fight, by a virtual accident—but he was good at getting into pointless fights."
"A parfit gentil knight—but a very poor king," Marian agreed. "England was naught but a treasure house to him. Yet by the time of his death, he had taken all the treasure and left us only the house. And John became king."
"And you decided to stay in the greenwood," Matt supplied.
"We have." Marian turned merry again. "We plagued John till he died. Robin carried word of each nobleman's discontent to his peers, so that all knew that few would side with John, if he sought to move against any one of them—and they made him sign a great charter acknowledging their rights. It was Robin's proudest moment."
"The Magna Carta," Matt murmured. "I'll bet it was. Not that John felt bound to honor it, though."
Marian waved the objection away, irritated. "John honored naught but force, no matter how often he saw the folly of his efforts to tyrannize his peers. But he died at last, and his heir would have restored Robin's estates."
Matt frowned. "Robin didn't accept?"
"Nay, for he saw the poor folk would prosper under Edward. Then the elvin folk offered him life till Doom's Trump should sound, and work to keep him busied all his days."
Matt shook his head. "Tough choice—family versus career."
"Ah, but the elves promised lasting life to all his band." Marian raised a finger. "Not one of us has died since, though we've been wounded sore, and have endured great pain till the elves could heal us. Yet all become fit again and are ever filled with zeal to protect the common folk."
"But I thought the elves left England in the Dymchurch Flit."
"What of it? There are other Englands—so many, in fact, that they are beyond counting. Nay, somewhere there will ever be a Sherwood, and elves and merry men to fill it"
Matt grinned. "Comforting to know—especially now."
"Aye, now." Sir Guy came up to them, wearing a jaunty grin and an elfin shoulder ornament. "Night approaches and, with it, the assault of sorcery. Will it please you to come watch their feints and spells? Then, on the morrow, we can plot their overthrow."