Robin eagerly joined in this firm request, and Arthen knew that at this time he would have to comply.
"Fine," he conceded.
"A tale of Hood," Will instantly commanded.
Arthen heaved an exaggerated sigh.
"Hood, then. Let's see..."
He attempted to focus only upon telling the story and ignore the fact that his wife soon brought some mending of her own – some socks to darn – and she started listening upon his tale as she attended to her task. Arthen told himself it was of no matter, because, unlike other people of his acquaintance, Rowena did not truly care to hear his tales, thinking them too childish and fanciful.
"So tell a tale!" Will commanded again, and Arthen sighed again.
"Will Scarlet, now how do you think I'm going to conjure up the tale to come to me if you keep pressing for it so?" he said, gazing fondly upon his friends' son. His hair was just as red as Maggie's, and to John's chagrin, people had already begun calling him by the same name they called his mother, so he was better known as Maggie Scarlet's son, rather than as John Little's boy.
"A tale!" both boys now chorused, unmindful of his rebuke, because they already knew he was just making a show of not wanting to tell the tale.
In truth, telling tales was one of the things Arthen liked best in this world, and he supposed he'd inherited the gift for it from his late father.
"A tale then..." he made a show of conceding. "A tale of Hood, the outlaw of the woods, and of how he attended Alan-a-Dale's wedding..."
"Who's Alan-a-Dale?" Will asked, his eyes shining keen with interest, because it was a new character that Arthen had now conjured up.
"A minstrel," Arthen replied, swiftly deciding to base his character on one of the good friends he'd once had, who loved to play songs and who'd been called Alan.
And Alan's tale and the tale of how Alan had married his lady love was, after all, a good tale to spin. A tale of Arthen's former life, and of the deeds he and his merry friends had done.
"Alan-a Dale had a sweetheart, so fair..." Arthen began, fully recalling the appearance of the maiden Alan had fallen in love with.
He then spun his tale in which he put not only the true events he recalled, but also a figment of his own fancy. How the maiden's family wanted to marry her off to a sour, greedy knight who was thrice her age. How Hood and his merry men had kidnapped the bishop before he could perform the unwanted ceremony. How Hood himself had dressed as a bishop, and wed Alan to his lady love in the woods.
"Did they live happily ever after, you reckon?" a voice cut in just when he was preparing to end his story.
Arthen had become so wrapped up in his tale that he had nearly forgotten his wife was there. He frowned upon her question, understanding she'd been listening to his tale, just as intently as the boys. Never before had she bothered to fully listen to the tales he told of Hood. But by her question and by her gaze upon him, he understood she must have taken interest in the tale.
"I reckon," he said, rather tersely.
She could not know it, but his friend Alan's tale had not had the happy ending he had just conjured up. Either for Alan or for the woman he loved. Because this world was often sad and crooked.
"Of course they lived happily ever after!" Will chimed in, and Robin, although too young to understand the whole of the tale, nodded vigorously in assent. "And Hood was there! He'd alwaysprotect them! He saved the maiden from getting married to an evil man! Hood was there. Whenever an injustice should be righted!"
"You're right. Hood saved her. What a lucky lady," Rowena said with a smile, in a placating voice, bending to ruffle Will's hair.
Soon the boys went outside, because the day was bright, and they resumed their play, leaving Arthen alone with his wife. Rowena kept working on her mending, and he thought it wise to go back to his own mending of the chair, but he could not help but cast her furtive glances from time to time. She had a forlorn expression upon her face, as if his tale had stirred something inside her. To Arthen's surprise, she soon spoke.
"Is this what your Hood does? He saves others? He rights the injustices of this world?"
Arthen shrugged, knowing she'd always dismissed his tales. He said nothing.
"It is a beautiful tale. Quite fanciful, but beautiful indeed," she added, and her voice sounded earnest as she spoke. "Will you tell me more? How the lady truly escaped her forceful marriage to a man who would have mistreated her? How she made a new life for herself with the man she loved? How the archer called Hood got to help other people in need..."
Was she mocking him? Again, Arthen searched for mockery in her voice, and found none. By the ardent, expectant way she was now gazing at him, he understood she truly wanted to listen to more of his tales. And he felt tempted to indulge her. And he felt frightened by how eager he was for her approval. He closed his eyes tiredly, knowing he not only wanted to punish her for what she'd done, but that he wanted to believe she'd finally grown to care for his thoughts and dreams, and didn't find him or their life together unworthy.
He set aside the chair he'd been vainly attempting to focus on. And he rose to stride to her, making her set aside her own mending.
"Is this what you wish for?" he asked, knowing too well she hadn't truly asked for his touch but for his words.
He had no words to give her at this time. He let his hands touch her, lingering on her arms and shoulders, then drawing the contours of her shapely calves. His heart thumped wildly as he understood she might not have asked for his touch, but that she was eager for it. She watched him with passion-filled eyes as he reached to lift her skirts, and she bit into her full lower lip as he swiftly nudged her legs apart.