Mortianna heard voices. Lady Margaret's, the Scribe's, and some of the Sheriff's guards. The voices were coming closer. Soon she heard the door fly open atop the stairs leading into the Sheriff's den outside of his chambers. She greeted them all at the foot of the stairs leading into her lair.
"Is there news?" She asked the Scribe, who headed the group of four standing before her. Two guards accompanied the Scribe and Lady Margaret. One was very tall, the other younger and shorter in stature.
"No, Madam. They haven't found them." The Scribe said.
"However will we tell the Sheriff when he returns?" Lady Margaret exclaimed "We failed him!"
The younger of the two of the Sheriff's guards came forward and spoke up.
"Madam, you assisted the Sheriff once before. You helped him locate her the last time. Perhaps you can tell us where the Ladies Rhiannon, and Meridwyn may be?" All eyes were suddenly upon the diminutive crone. She looked up at them.
"Come." She said. "I will look for you."
She lead them to the table she often sat at. The last time she had company was the night she told the Sheriff of Lady Rhiannon's captor. She had a stone cup waiting there. The remnants of batwing tea lay in scattered patterns along the base of the cup. She picked it up and squinted her eye to take a closer look. They waited for her to speak. It was only moments, but time seem suspended while they waited for her response.
"They are captured." She finally spoke abruptly. The others sighed.
"We are doomed!" Lady Margaret exclaimed. Mortianna raised her hand to silence her. She looked again into the cup.
"My Lord Sheriff, and Guy of Gisborne are nearby where the ladies are held. They are searching. They found a clue." She stated as her eyes glazed over.
"Well tell us, Madam!" the younger guard urged.
"The Gods be with them." Mortianna suddenly exclaimed.
"Who?" The guards, the Scribe, and Lady Margaret all replied in unison.
"The Sheriff and the Deputy, Guy of Gisborne."
"What?" the Scribe asked for clarification.
"Both of them are in grave danger of losing their ladies. The Ladies Meridwyn and Rhiannon. One of them is very ill, I cannot tell which of them. The other is going to make a decision that could result in her end…."
"But you said the Sheriff and Guy of Gisborne?" The Scribe pointed out.
"You fool!" The witch spat "If the ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn die – what will it matter to them? But, you cannot know. How deeply the Sheriff loves Lady Rhiannon. And how Guy loves his Lady Meridwyn. If they die, we are all doomed." She announced.
"Whatever do you mean, Madam?" Lady Margaret asked.
"If the ladies die, the Sheriff and his cousin will be tormented and enraged all the rest of their days. They will return to their old ways. Alas, this town will submit to tyranny once again." Mortianna recited in a quiet voice. The group gathered around her heard her words clearly, notwithstanding.
"Send us in their direction, Madam." The taller of the two guards spoke. "We can assist the Sheriff and his Deputy!"
"It doesn't matter." She said as she gazed into the cup, holding it closer, than bringing it further away from her before she set it back on the table. "It's out of our hands." She looked up then, and scanned the faces of the group assembled before her. "I didn't say they wouldn't be found. They might still be found. But even if the Sheriff and Guy find them today, it may still be too late." Their faces registered fear as she continued. "The course has already been charted. Their fates lie with the Gods."
Rhiannon sat in a chair, her hands bound behind her. Meridwyn lay on the floor a few feet away from her. She took in her surroundings. The room was dark. Quite large and chill. A wood stove was approximately six feet in front of her but there wasn't much of a fire left burning. The glowing embers taunted of the warmth it once provided. She wasn't afraid. This time she knew her surroundings, and how she got here. But once she arrived here the rags that covered her mouth were removed. A cloth was held in front of her face. She remembered the smell of something sweet, then blackness. She was poisoned. Her head ached but she was relieved she was no longer gagged. She didn't know where her captor was, but she had to try to wake Meridwyn. She lightly tapped the floor with her heels hoping her friend would hear it.
"Meridwyn!" she called after her. She shuffled her chair along with her feet inching it toward Meridwyn, who lay slumped on the floor. At least she was breathing, but she was so pale!
"Meridwyn! God be damned – wake up or you shall die! You must! Meridwyn!" she cried.
She heard a noise then. Footsteps, they were coming closer. The sound of the footsteps almost as loud as her heartbeat. She was certain he could hear her heartbeat, that's why he was coming for her.
"Oh, Meridwyn." She sighed as she shuffled the chair back to the original position, then sat still waiting for him. Again.
The Fallen Knight with his familiar tan coloured hood entered the room. He walked toward Rhiannon and circled her.
"Remarkable." He finally said. "Looking at you, why, you could never ever tell!" Her once pregnant belly was now as if she'd never borne a child.
"Tell what?" she asked without looking up at him.
"You do not remember?" he hissed
"Remember what?" she asked, finally looking up at the loathed creature before her.
The madman clapped his hands together and laughed. "You don't remember? That's even sweeter than my plans for the Sheriff! The fact that you do not remember it! Oh, this is a gift indeed!" he shouted in glee.
She rolled her eyes, tired of the madman's riddles. "I'm sure I do not know what you're speaking of!" she said exasperated.
The Fallen Knight leaned in close to her. "Let's just say that, the last time you had the pleasure of my company – all those months you felt miserable? You do recall? Well, it was not because of me. It was because of the Sheriff of Nottingham! But who am I to spoil it? If you do not remember, I shall never tell!" he laughed.
She closed her eyes, shaking her head in confusion. If she could only work her hands out of the ropes that bound them. She knew the dagger was still there in the pocket of her gown. She could feel the weight of it through the fabric against her thigh.
The madman turned and walked toward Meridwyn. He knelt beside her and ran his hand down the length of her fiery tresses, and trailed his fingers slowly over shoulders, and down her bosom. "You got away from me. Twice!" he said. "Ahh, but you're here now."
"Leave her alone!" Rhiannon implored.
"Silence!" he shouted back at her. He looked upon Lady Meridwyn again. "We're together – at last. I was coming for you, but you landed straight on my path! It was to be. Dear Meridwyn…" he sighed.
"How do you know her name?!" Rhiannon shouted. Had he been following her friend? Oh this was vile! How much more did he know about them? He knew about the Sheriff. And something else, that even she could not remember. But – what?
"You little whore!" he hissed as he got up and spun around to face her. "Silence! You may speak when directed to." He looked down upon Meridwyn and said "I shall return."
As he left, Rhiannon looked over at Meridwyn. She was working hard to break free of the bindings, and getting close to freeing her hands.
"Who is he, Meridwyn?" she asked, knowing it was futile. "You must know him!" She had to get free from the ropes. And when she did, the next time that vile creature came in here and touched her friend that way, she was going to let him know that he picked the wrong maidens to play with!
The woman had just put her infant down for a nap. It was a good day for baking. She'd been promising her husband to make her special bread, his favourite. It was a sweet bread made with currents and cinnamon among other spices. She organized the dry ingredients on the wooden table before her. Her husband came in from outside and found her working in the kitchen.
"There are guards outside." He said to her
"Guards?" she exclaimed. "From where?"
"They're not from around here, that I can assure you."
"Are they coming here do you think?"
"I don't know, dearest." He replied "But if they come here, I will speak to them. Where is the baby?"
"Upstairs. Asleep in the nursery." She answered as she wiped the flour off her apron. Her husband peered out the window through the curtains.
"They're coming to the door." He said.
"Robert!" she cried
"It's alright, my love. Hush. We haven't done anything wrong. Maybe they are looking for someone?" He was interrupted by a firm knock on the front door. They both went to the door. The man opened it. On the doorstep were two guards dressed in garments and armour he'd never seen. They were not local. One was tall with reddish hair and a beard, and kind blue eyes. The other was shorter in stature and fair.
"Good day, sir." The taller red haired man spoke. "I am Duke Farnsworth. The Lead Investigator for the Sheriff of Nottingham."
"Yes?" the man replied. He was tall with dark brown hair, and blue green eyes. Familiar eyes. What was it about him? The Duke wondered.
"We are looking for an infant."
The woman looked down, her husband kept his gaze. Though the Duke thought he detected a change in the man's face. A subtle shadow that crossed it.
"I've never been able to bring forth children." The woman suddenly spoke as she looked up into the Duke's kind blue eyes.
"Can you tell us about this infant?" the woman's husband asked.
"The child is approximately six weeks old. We are told it has dark curly hair and green eyes."
"The babe is missing?" the man asked.
"The child belongs to the Sheriff of Nottingham and his Lady. But the child was abducted from it's mother when she was held in an abandoned castle approximately thirty miles north east of here." Duke Farnsworth said.
"We haven't seen the infant." The man spoke.
"We'll be remaining in the area for a time. We're under orders from the Sheriff to continue our search. If you see this child, we implore you to bring the child's whereabouts to our attention."
"Of course."
"Good day, sir. Madam." Then the guards went on their way.
Once the door was closed, his wife voiced their fears in a hushed tone.
"Oh, Robert. We have the Sheriff of Nottingham's baby!" She began "I've heard about him, an evil man. Why, I heard he once threatened to cut a man's heart out with a spoon!" she exclaimed.
"I've heard from reliable sources he's changed, too." The Blacksmith said. "But, it doesn't matter, my love. We've been raising this child nearly two weeks. We're going to get found out. We must prepare to leave."
"Yes." She agreed as he embraced her. "We've waited too long. How can we give the child away now?"
"Yes, my love. We have." He said. "There's only one thing that would make me relinquish the baby back to the Sheriff. And the chances of that are one in a million. So there's no need to fret." He reassured his wife as he caressed her golden hair. She broke free and looked up at her handsome husband.
"And what would that be? What would make you give our child back to him?" she asked.
"If the Lady – the Sheriff's Lady that is, were my sister." He laughed. "You see, my love? Nothing to worry about. I mean, how preposterous would that be?"
"Yes. You're right. That would never happen from what you've told me of her." She paused a moment before she continued. "So, my love, we leave tomorrow?"
"I think that's what I love about you the most, dearest." He began. "You're quite clever. I never need to explain anything at length to you." He said as he kissed the top of her head.
"I know him, Mordrid." Duke Farnsworth suddenly spoke.
"What? That man you just spoke to? I'm told he is the town Blacksmith." The younger fair haired guard said.
"There's something about his face. Those eyes. He's familiar to me, but I don't know how?"
"Maybe he's worth keeping an eye on. Though he seemed noble to me." Mordrid offered.
"Perhaps. We're surveilling the area anyway. We're certain to run into him again."
"He could be lying."
"True." The Duke replied. "But they gave us no reason to search the premises. Still, we must be vigilant. The Sheriff demands it."
