The next twenty four hours continued on in the same manner. The Sheriff was in and out of sleep on a cot beside her. Over and over he kept playing the haunting words in his mind. Echos of that sultry voice sounding off in the distance - "It's too late." He lay on his side facing her. One arm under his pillow, the other extended. He reached out to touch her. He began to stroke her face. Finally, he found her. Whatever the mystery of that phrase, he wouldn't relent. He wouldn't let it matter.

When he awoke there was light. He blinked his eyes, and looked over at Rhiannon. He bolted abruptly. She lay shivering, her skin hot and dry. He quickly put on his coat and ventured outside. Guy was by the fire with James Curran, heating brandy for Lady Rhiannon.

"Cousin, there's something amiss with my lady. She is worse!" He spoke up.

Officer Curran interrupted him. "My lord, if I may. Before I left, my wife gave me a special blend tea. She said it could be used to help the lady of Nottingham, but only if she was in a state like this."

"What!" The Sheriff grabbed him by the collar. "Why didn't you say anything? She's been ill for days you fool!"

"I wasn't quite certain my lord, Sheriff. You see, my Margaret is a midwife. And, well, she knows all about those other things with the ladies." He winked.

"What are you talking about?" The Sheriff asked suspiciously.

"Oh. Yes! Quite right, James!" Guy agreed, then nodded to the Sheriff. "He's quite right, cousin."

"You both speak in riddles. Whatever nonsense are you blabbering about?"

"You know, sire." Guy shifted nervously, leaning in to lower his voice. "That thing they do, when they bleed."

"No". The Sheriff disagreed. "Not like this. It can't be normal to bleed like this. She's unconscious for God sake! I think it's some insidious poison, myself."

"It's worth a shot, sire." Guy spoke.

"It's a special blend tea made from wheatgrass my Lord." James continued. "My Margaret says it will slow bleeding considerably." He boasted.

"Alright, fine. Whatever." The Sheriff huffed in resignation. "Bring it then. Why not? Lets put crosses on her and pray too. You do that. Since I know it probably won't harm her, I'll permit it. And while you two try to get the tea past her tongue, I'll go and look for useful tangible items that can bring down her fever!" He rolled his eyes. "Wheatgrass tea indeed!" he muttered in disgust as he continued to another tent where the provisions were kept.

He had to get her well enough to travel. The safest place for her was in Nottingham. She would receive care in Nottingham Castle. He would make certain of it. But it couldn't come to pass until she was well enough to sustain the journey. There was something dreadfully amiss. True, he didn't know very much of these things, but he never knew any of his comrades wives or maidens to be laid up unconscious for days on a regular basis. No matter what Guy, James, or anyone could tell him, there was something seriously awry with lady Rhiannon. Suddenly he wished the witch was nearby. She'd know what to do. It was times like this, though there'd been few up to now, he wished for a mother or a sister who knew what to do. He gathered the blankets, some rags, and a large container for water and returned to his tent. Guy was holding Rhiannon's head up while James held the cup to her lips. She managed to sip some but wouldn't open her eyes. He dismissed them, then began sponging her with cool cloths. Occasionally he'd pause to offer more of the tea.

By evening he was exhausted. Rhiannon still lay in her cot, motionless. The bleeding had slowed, yet she was very hot to touch and had not yet waken from her slumber. He needed rest, yet he'd never felt so awake. He wouldn't leave her. After the long months filled with worry, he was not prepared to leave her now. Even though she had the Sheriff, and was surrounded by his men for protection, the killer remained at large.

The worry and lack of sleep took its toll on the Sheriff. He was restless, constantly shifting positions when he would sit still. Most of his time was spent pacing, or occupying himself doing things for his Lady to restore her. After long moments of this, he went over to her. He bent down and stroked her face.

"My lady. Come back to me. I'm here." He said as he stroked her silky hair. He kissed her forehead and began offering her tea again. She started to taste the hot liquid. Her eyelids began to open and close rapidly. Not relishing the thought of another panicked episode like the day before he kept silent, willing himself not to speak. He didn't know what his lady endured these long month they'd been apart. He knew at first sight of her laying on the bed. Pale and weak. The blood. She'd endured enough. But her reaction the first hour of her waking was a shock. It wasn't exactly the reaction the Sheriff had been expecting any time he allowed himself to imagine finding her alive and well. This time he waited for her to wake. She moaned softly, shaking her head. He could tell she was dreaming, of God only knew whatever she had been through. The Sheriff decided it was best not to startle her.

"My lord…." She moaned with her eyes still closed. The last time he'd hear her voice for weeks.

The Sheriff stroked her cheek. She lay there in a stuporous state. Semi conscious. The Sheriff bent down and kissed her forehead. The strain of the last few days had been taking a toll on him. He seldom complained, but now that she was in his care, he knew he'd have to start taking better care of himself.

Guy poked his head in to see if the Sheriff needed anything.

"Is everything alright in here?" he asked.

"What do you think, cousin? Look at her! It's been two days since we found her. I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever be able to move her?"

"Sure you will, cousin." Guy said as he entered the tent. "The men and myself have been talking."

"I see." The Sheriff said as he stood up. He poured some brandy into a goblet and took a sip. "And what exactly have you been discussing in my absence?" he challenged.

"We think that when the time is appropriate to move the lady home, some of us should stay behind. Find this sick bastard."

"Really. You decided this amongst yourselves?"

"Yes, cousin." Guy said.

"What am I to do then?" he huffed.

"Take care of your lady, my Lord."

"Yes. Yes. I know that. But my job is to arrest that man for his crimes. I want him."

"You shall have him my Lord. When we find him."

"No. No! I want him. I want to be there when he is captured. I want to savour the look on his face when I tell him about the slow painful death we have planned for him." He said with a grin.

"What slow painful death?"

"I don't know. I'll think of something." The Sheriff replied.

"Well, there's always the spoons." Guy said.

"No. No, can't do that, cousin. It's already been done. Must remain original." The Sheriff said.

The following night proved to be another sleepless one for the Sheriff. Even if he had agreed to let one of his men relieve him for a spell of keeping watch over his lady he was too wound up to sleep. She still hadn't awakened. Gradually, it seemed she was less hot to touch but she wasn't out of danger yet. He was able to get her to drink. He was alternating between the special blend wheatgrass tea with water. Thinking it might be better for her. God only knew what the magical healing ingredient of the tea was. And since he was certain she must have been poisoned he didn't want to cause further harm by giving her too much of the tea. At some point he decided now was as good a time as any to move her back to Nottingham Castle. She needed care that was beyond his realm. He had a personal physician but decided it best for Officer Curran's wife, and Mortianna the witch to share her care. This matter that made her so ill could be specific to ladies. When she wakened, she may be horrified to find an unfamiliar man had examined her. He'd seen Mortianna perform miracles before. He also knew something of Lady Margaret, dating back to a night not long ago. Following too many goblets of brandy, James had boasted his wife was so talented, she pretty well delivered their last child by herself.

Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe the eagerness to bring her home. He didn't know. He didn't care. Sometime during the course of the night he came to a conclusion. He awakened with the realization that Guy's suggestion for a small group to remain behind didn't seem such a bad idea after all. His primary concern was Lady Rhiannon. He had to start moving her. Now. He would speak to James. He requested James accompany him home. He needed him. He needed the aid of his wife. And he hoped Mortianna would know what to do in the meantime.

Guy and Duke Farnsworth chose to remain with a small group of men. They requested six. The Sheriff shook his cousin's hand. He promised to give a message to Meridwyn, and return as soon as it was safe to do so, when his Lady showed improvement.

"If you and the Duke think you've found him… I want him. Alive."

"Yes, cousin. Understood."

The Sheriff started on his journey home with a few of his men, James Curran, and of course his lady, Rhiannon. The journey went smoothly. The weather was pleasant. His lady was still not awake, but he knew she was gradually improving.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he had her past the Castle gates, through the doors, and up the circular stairs. Insisting she stay in his private chambers. He was emphatic. He sent the Scribe to send for Mortianna at once.

Mortianna arrived carrying a small sack. She opened it and poured the contents on the table beside the bed where Lady Rhiannon lay still. Beside the sack on the table was a chain, jars of liniments, and what appeared to be tea leaves tied in gauze fabric. She asked to be excused to examine the Maid of Nottingham. After a lengthy interval, and the scent of lavender increasingly permeating the air. He suspected a fragranced ointment, she returned to him with news.

"My lord Sheriff." She said.

"How is my lady, Mortianna?" he asked

"You did the right thing. The tea was appropriate. Heals the blood. Perhaps erases the mind though." Her voice trailed off. Here we go again. More of Mortianna's riddles.

"Yes. Yes. Go on, Madam!" he all but begged impatiently.

"She's no longer untouched. But you already knew that." She said. It was not a question, but a statement. He was stunned. How on earth could anyone know? His guards didn't know. Even she, how could she know he'd bedded her?

"Madam, explain yourself! Quickly! Before I rip your black heart out and burn it!" he spat, challenging her.

She paused a moment then looked in his eyes and said "She has borne a child, my Lord."