"All good, Robin." She smiled at him. "I am really proud of you. You have done well this evening."

"Thank you, Mama." He beamed as he rushed over and threw his arms around her waist in a big bear hug."

"I love you, too." She chuckled. "Now, you try to get some rest. I shall be here caring for his lordship. Sleep sweet, my dearest one."

"Sleep Sweet, Mama." Robin yawned as he curled up on his pallet and tucked his cloak about him.

Robin, she mused, was always a good sleeper. Any time, any place. If he was tired, he simply closed his eyes and went to sleep. Sometimes she envied him that.

A creak of the chair and a groan from behind brought her at once to his side.

"What is it?"

Erec was tired. Exhausted beyond his physical limits, sick or no. His body was shutting down on him.

"I am better. Please, I need to...to bed." He slurred, no longer caring if he might embarrass her in his undress. His focus now was to make it to the bed before he passed out cold on the stone floor.

With her help, he stood. The room began to spin again, and he swayed. They stopped their progress, but not for long, as he felt his strength waning. With her guidance he felt the press of the bed against his legs and without his normal grace he landed hard upon the bed with a groan as he fought another bout of dizziness.

Carefully removing herself from him, she grabbed his shoulder to keep him upright as she struggled to turn down the covers for him. At last, she was ready for him and she turned to say as much.

Without her support, he fell back. With a groan he pressed his hands to is face, fighting the sickness...and the gentle tug on his fingers.

"My lord." He continued to resist her efforts.

"My Lord, please."

Erec held fast. While he his eyes remained closed, he felt some relief from the churning in his belly.

"Erec." The one word, softly whispered so near his face melted all resistance as she lifted away his hands.

He kept his eyes closed tightly against the light but his entire body relaxed and he sighed as she pressed a cold cloth against his brow, his cheek, and finally over his eyes. Relief wept through him, calming...everything. He relaxed into the softness of the feather tick and the furs and sighed again.

his conscience demanded.

"Erec."

Once more he was pulled to the edge of awareness, but could not bring himself to open his eyes.

Sleep was so close. Oblivion. Blessed Oblivion.

"Erec, I cannot do this alone. I am strong, but you are twice my size and more. I need—you—need to help me."

"Mm." he mumbled.

"Do not sleep yet, My lord."

"Mm."

Erec felt the tick shift beneath him as she climbed over it. He heard fabric rustling and then felt her soft touch. And then her voice—a whisper from far away—called to him—guided him. He felt the furs, soft against his chest. With a sigh he reached blindly for—for her.

"No, my lord. You must rest now." She reached for his hand on her waist, to remove it and step away.

"I need—please stay." He mumbled, he thought he asked her to stay, but the last of his senses were leaving him.

The bed dipped as she lay against his side. Erec slipped his arm over her protectively and pulled her against him, her back to his front. With a contented sigh, he met oblivion with a smile upon his face.

She was fully clothed and lay upon the covers whilst he lay beneath them. She should sleep in the chair. But she was exhausted and the bed was much softer than the chair. And besides, she would rise again as soon as he was well asleep...

With a sigh, she dismissed the last of her misgivings and slept...just for few minutes.

---

Light streamed into the room and he closed his eyes against the pain bursting in his head. A groan passed his lips and he raised his hand to cover his face—and froze.

"Mm."

A sleepy murmur—a decidedly feminine murmur—brushed against his chest"—his naked chest. He vaguely remembered something abut Heaven and angels and –a

"Mm."

This time the murmur was contented as the woman lying aside him snuggled closer. His eyes flew open, and closed instantly in a groan.

"Good Morn Erec." She murmured.

"Good morn" He mumbled, pulling away to sit up.

Blinking and rubbing the sleep from his eyes he forced himself to focus. He needed to wash and dress. He needed—

What the hell did he need? And just who the hell was—

He turned toward the woman.

She lay atop the covers.

She was fully clothed.

His eyes bugged large and round as recognition dawned and silenced his voice.

"How is your head this morn, my lord?" she asked as she stretched her limbs.

Erec could not manage words.

"Better?" she asked with a sleepy smile as she sat up and curled her legs up under her skirts.

He rarely drank to excess and he worried over his behavior the night prior. A night for which his memory was a bit hazy.

The bits he could recall, anyway. Most of the night was ominous as an empty grave: a deep black hole, empty and worrisome.

Looking at Gwyndolyn, rising from his bed this morn, he felt heartsick. Swallowing hard he tried to speak but only croaked. Licking his lips, he answered.

"Tis better?" It came out more as a question.

"Good. I worried that you would suffer a great head ache today. You, my lord, were very deep in your cups."

"That much I remember."

"Do not fear. Even while out of your mind with drink, you were gentle and knightly."

"But—" unable to put it in words, he glanced pointedly at the bed.

"Nay, my lord." She smiled brightly as she climbed from the bed and stood, once more stretching. "Do not trouble yourself. You were quite ill last night and nothing untoward has happened."

"Nothing?" He raised a brow. His head ached as though a blacksmith's hammer were pounding inside his skull, but his senses had fully returned. "Then why does it feel as though I have desecrated something that was once good and fine, and made it into something...well, less."

"Trouble yourself no more, my lord. All is well and good."

Aggravated, he ran his hands through his hair and moved the covers in the process. Embarrassed and afraid that he would make a bad situation worse, he snatched the covers pulling over himself again and growled: "Woman! Have you no sense? If it becomes known that you—"

"Milord." She sighed. "Rest easy. I am his lordship's healer, and twas his lordship himself that sent me to you. All is as it should be. All is well."

"Mama?" Robin poked his head in the door. His face vanished and reappeared a moment later with a smile. "At last, you are awake! Matilde said she wished that she could sleep the day away and then Cook said..."

Gwendolyn cleared her throat, knowing full well what the grumpy old man said, since he and Matilde had a habit of exchanging insults by way of conversation. Robin swallowed the words unspoken and blushed as he went on.

"Well, then Cook sent me with a tray for you and wants to know if his lordship is well enough to eat."

"Are you?" she turned to ask Erec.

"Am I what?" Erec was still stuck on that boy's first word.

"Are you well enough to eat something?" she asked rather patiently.

For some reason, that seemed to annoy him. He frowned. His stomach felt better, but he had no desire to tempt fate. The little pixie standing before him had the audacity to laugh.

"I think perhaps ginger tea, and toasted bread for his lordship." Gwyndolyn smiled affectionately at Robin.

With the skill of one much older, Robin swapped out last eve's tray for the new tray. She watched in wonder, amazed at how quickly the little boy was becoming a young man. At the door he turned.

"Shall I fetch you a fresh gown, Mama? Mayhap I should send up fresh clothes for his lordship?"

Erec's brow was furrowed in concentration as he tried to follow the conversation. At her questioning glance he shook his head.

"Nay. His lordship declines, and I am fine as I am. Just bring the tea and toasted bread for his lordship. Thank you, Robin."

When the boy was gone and the door closed, she dropped to her hands and knees and began to reach around under the bed. He watched, amused at the sight of her bottom stuck up in the air as she crawled half under the bed, grumbling something under her breath.

"Are you not going to rise this morn?" she teased as she stood.

He sat motionless as he watched her move about, but his eyes followed her every move. He watched her wash her face and when she set aside the towel after drying her skin, he was yet watching. It seemed to her that she should be self-conscious from his attentions...but she was not in the least.

Sitting upon the stool, she loosened the tie from her plait and unwound the strands, all the while watching him watch her. He stared but seemed not to really see. Suddenly he blinked.

Curious, she thought as his gaze continued to be not upon her, but seemingly through her, as though she were not really there at all.

In lieu of a comb, she pulled her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward so that she might run her fingers through the locks to remove the tangles. All at once he seemed to come out of his trance and she bit her lip to keep from laughing as he picked up the thread of their conversation from several moments ago, as if there were no pause at all.

"I suppose I must." He threw the covers back and pulled himself to the edge. Looking down at his bare toes, he wiggled them against the little rug, thankful that it was not cold stone beneath them. He took a breath, opened his mouth as if to speak and let it out in a whoosh. Then, before he could lose his nerve again, he blurted, "You might want to turn away."

"What?" she asked as her fingers stilled in the process of reworking her plait.

"I am going to—er—use the—er—"

"Oh!" she blushed and turned to face the wall.

Erec's brow went up. A strange reaction from a woman with a son of ten years. He frowned as he took care of his business. When he left her at the start of winter, she was a maiden, and now, near the end of the winter, she was a widow and a mother? Finished, he washed his hands and began to dress.

Mayhap, he thought as he pulled on the stockings and undershirt, mayhap he misunderstood? He consumed a great amount of spirits, so perhaps his mind was still addled? The doublet was next. As he tied the strings at his throat, he looked up to see her bustling about.

"If you are able," he smiled, recognizing someone who was desperately trying to keep busy and to keep her eyes averted, "I could use a hand with the chainmail."

"Of course, my lord." She blushed and he—he winked!

Her blush deepened as she tried to assist. She had no prior knowledge of this armor, but logic would dictate that helping him into it was the reverse of helping him out of it. As she reached for the pile of metal mesh, he snatched it up and had it facing right way out again in a moment. He handled the chainmail as easily as she handled the fabric of her dress.

In truth, he needed very little help getting into the chainmail, but the clasps and buckles were in the back. She struggled to reach, but she could not see the little holes in the leather to put the prong through and fix the buckle. After a few moments she let out a frustrated sigh.

"If you please, my lord, you must needs to sit, for I cannot see to work the buckles near the top."

He obliged, sinking to the stool, and chuckling as he did so.

She was a mess of contradictions. She seemed both naïve and worldly, which was in itself perplexing. And while she was quite a little thing, she was strong enough. She was clever...and beautiful. When she finished, he donned the long surcoat. As he reached for his belt, she made a little noise, drawing his attention.

"I know not the proper order, but I can work the buckles and clasps well enough. With your instruction, I can assist with the armor." She pointed to the small pile of formerly shining parts, now marked with smudged fingerprints from his struggles the previous eve.

"Nay." From long practice, he quickly managed the belt and dirk as he spoke. "I shall not wear it this day. Only the chainmail. But..." He slid his dirk into place and offered her a courtly bow, "If you would be so kind as to assist with the boots?"

Just as she finished the laces on the second, Robin returned with the toast and tea.

"If there is nothing more, mama...?"

"Stay, boy." Erec interrupted any reply of hers. "I am recovered of my wits from last eve's overindulgences. I am not so addled that I cannot remember when last we met. Sit down, boy."

"Robin, come and sit next to me." Gwyndolyn said softly.

Robin bent to set the tray on the floor and obeyed at once, even climbing upon her lap.

Erec lowered himself to the edge of the bed and rubbed his temples.

"The tea and toasted bread will help that." She said softly, "Ask your questions while you eat. I shall speak truly."

"Very well." He answered.

Robin slipped from her lap and fetched his tray to him.

"Thank you, boy." Erec smiled.

Robin returned the smile with his own. As soon as Erec lowered his hand to his plate, Robin fetched Gwyndolyn's tray and stood by her side as she ate.

After a few bites, she asked: "Pray my lord, what is the last thing that you recall?"

"Leaving your father's farm. I left you with your father and your brother, safe and well. I ordered my men fill the feed and leave food for you. Enough for several days, so you would be able to eat while you gathered more from your fields and gardens."

"Then that is where I shall begin. You left after the ceremony with the prisoners."

"Public shaming."

"Right. Well." She nodded and stuffed a small bit of bread in her mouth, chasing it down with a bit of water before adding. "They did not like it much, I expect."

"They are not supposed to." he chuckled. Finished with his toasted bread, he let a palm rest absently on his stomach as he realized he was hungry after all.