Chapter Text
"The sword for your time, Longstride. Are you in agreement?"
Robin looks at her, at this noble lady who had made it clear she has no desire for this arrangement. He would have expected somebody in fine dresses doing embroidery, not somebody washing her grubby feet in the footbath at the entrance. Not somebody who, for lack of a nearby maid, had helped him out of his chainmail with her own hands.
Is she set against him because she mourns her husband? Does she doubt his character and think him manipulative? Perhaps both?
Sir Walter knows he is offering him a boon – the old man must know there is no refusing such a proposal, even if Lady Marion does hate him.
He looks up at her, at the way she is awaiting his answer, and he has sympathy for the way her life is being changed without her input, for the way her fate has ended up in his hands. He will be considerate of it, of her, as much as he can. But he is not so good a man that he would turn down this offer simply for her opinion of him. He must hope she will warm up to him.
"Yes."