Adventure. She had once looked for them when she had first searched with a wildly pounding heart for the hidden cassettes and money boxes full of misappropriated coins in the counting chambers. She was feeling dizzy, and the way to her chambers was only a blur in her memory. But she remembered how it had been when the door had slammed shut behind her. And also how the eyes of the young mother with the sick toddler shone when she placed the shimmering coins in her hand the following day.

If Marian had asked her father, he would certainly have given her money. He did that before when she was still a young girl. Whenever her heart overflowed with compassion for those who had so much less and were starving, while full plates made their tables groan. Back then, before the days of the greedy prince. Today, their tables were also less richly set. Her father appreciated her good heart - but she would also always remember his words:'No matter how many coins we throw into the streets, my child, it will not relieve England's hunger. We cannot help them with silver.'

But with what then, father? This question had occupied her long and often. Not daily, though. Her mind often wandered, seeking other ways of distraction from the oppressive boredom. She had to make this admission to herself. And yet, like a pendulum, her heart inevitably returned to this point again and again. The people's poverty and suffering, to which many nobles so vehemently turned a blind eye. It would not be ignored forever, even if they locked themselves in their castles and drew the curtains of their carriages.

It felt good to give something back to the people. She missed the pounding of her heart in the darkness, the tingling in her fingers, and, yes - the sweet taste of the forbidden. It was intoxicating, and the reward was sweeter when it filled a family's plates for another week.

But these kinds of 'adventures' had never been so dangerous for her.

Rattling chainmail, clattering sword scabbards and blades, the drumming of heavy boots on the stone floor. Shouts came closer. Guards, she had to pass somehow and above all unseen. She hurriedly ducked into the shadows and went over the plan in her head to get into her chamber again. This was a dance on the castle's battlements; only one false step could drag her into the abyss.

Her advantage was the darkness and the winding corners of the dungeon, which eerged with the castle's cellars due to a wall that collapsed years ago. This was her home. She knew every nook and cranny of this castle, and Marian had to take every advantage that the old walls offered her.

The footsteps came closer. Excited voices hissed and barked at each other. The atmosphere was tense to the breaking point, yet nothing compared to the tension inside Marian. Like a mouse hiding from a circling bird of prey, she huddled behind a pillar near a cell.

'Come on, Marian! You mustn't hesitate! You're running out of time!' she scolded herself, then jumped forward. The door to the cell stood a narrow bit open - just enough for her to slip through without any trouble.

Remnants of straw covered the floor and caught the sound of her footsteps. The place stank disgustingly of urine and rotten hay, but Marian had no time to be disgusted. Her fingertips fumbled over the rough leather of the well-worn strap as she hastily placed the helmet in the corner and tugged at the belt around her waist.

At that moment, voices came alarmingly close. Torches in the guards' hands cast dancing shadows on the clammy walls, making the damp places glow like shimmering rivers of fire. Marian immediately pressed herself as far into the corner as she could.

'No! There's no way they can find me here!'

Time suddenly seemed to flow much more slowly. Marian did not move. Any movement might give her away. Two guards were running down the long corridor of the dungeons, seemingly towards a goal.

'They're heading for the tunnel!' it flashed through Marian's mind, and she gritted her teeth. The sheriff must have sent them. 'Clever bastard!' she thought bitterly. Hopefully, Robin and the boy's lead was big enough.

'You'd better worry about yourself!'

Marian swallowed hard. Her throat and mouth were dry, her skin sweaty for it. Accompanied by the metallic clatter, the two men passed her cell, and Marian dared to exhale briefly. Then she wasted no time, undid the buckle of the belt, and immediately tugged at the strings holding the tabard together at the sides. Getting rid of the chain mail was considerably more difficult. Marian's body twisted as she grabbed it by the hem and leaned forward to push it over her head with her weight. There was a clang as the heavy armor finally slid over her back and fell onto the pile. The rattling sound echoed treacherously loud in the cold vault.

"Shh! Did you hear that?" distant voices rang out.

Marian stopped immediately, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Go on, go and check!"

'Damn!' Marian gasped softly, quickly pulling the dark tabard over her chainmail. If a glint of light caught on the flashing metal of the ring links, it would betray them instantly or be found too quickly! Accompanied by rushed breathing, Marian pressed herself against the wall of the dungeon cell. At her back, the wall was rough and clammy.

Marian stared at the wall opposite. The light from a torch cast a long, distorted shadow on the stone. She pressed herself harder against the rock, almost as if it could swallow her if she hoped hard enough.

The footsteps came closer. The light wavered back and forth, and Marian could hear the guard stepping closer to the cells.

'There's nothing here. No one is foolish enough to hide in the dungeon cells. So get lost!' Marian pleaded quietly, squinting her eyes.

"Come quickly! This way! He's escaped through the tunnels!"

The loud shout from the other side made Marian flinch. Her legs were shaky as movement immediately came into the dungeon, and other guards were also now rushing toward the old tunnel. This was her chance!

Marian waited until the glow of light was swallowed by the dungeon's gloom, then she ran. She hoped that the splashing of the water and the voices of the guards drowned out her footsteps as she hurried to the servants' staircase. A huge lump fell from her heart as she slipped into the cover of darkness. Hastily, she pulled the fabric of her nightdress from the waistband of her trousers, smoothed it out as smoothly as she could, and hurried up the narrow stairs.

Here the noise of the alarm bell and the excited guards could be heard more clearly. Loud, angry shouts she could hear, and when she finally slipped into the corridors, her father's voice, rumbling over everything, was also distant. A bit of a guilty conscience gnawed at her as she finally turned down the corridor to her chambers, sighing as she wiped a strand of red curls from her face. She was exhausted and weary. Her body seemed incredibly heavy, her legs weak from the excitement, the flight... but they had made it, if only just.

Tomorrow she could claim her share from Robin and-

"Good evening, my lady."

Marian nearly tripped over her own feet so quickly did her whole body freeze. A cold shiver flowed like a torrent from her mop of hair to her toes, and her mind prayed for a second that she had misheard. Her throat tightened as she swallowed and then slowly turned around.

At the end of the corridor stood the sheriff.