Several days passed since the day that Lady Rhiannon fell ill. In a rare moment of leisure, the Sheriff walked alone in his gardens. He needed to think. There had been no change. Lady Rhiannon was still lost in her slumber. The fever had passed, he was relieved about that. But still, no signs of her wakening anytime soon.

And that was the reason why he hadn't accomplished much in the days that passed. His place was with his lady. He didn't feel very comfortable about leaving her. He thought about yesterday's meeting with Guy.

"It appears she lives a comfortable life. She lives alone. Occasionally she ventures to the market in the village square. Mostly she stays at home, however. She'll be an easy target." Guy said to the Sheriff. They were inside of the Council Quarters discussing the matter of Hestia.

"Does she have visitors come to call on her?" The Sheriff asked.

"None that I have seen. The only time I haven't been keeping watch is overnight."

"Good. That lessens the chances of our being seen."

"You know, cousin…we could've finished this by now. I could've had her long before this." Guy remarked.

"I've been rather…involved in other matters." The Sheriff said.

"It's been nine days, cousin." Guy pointed out.

"I know."

"The next full moon is in five days hence."

"Yes. I did say I wanted her dead by the next full moon, didn't I?" The Sheriff mused.

"You did, sire."

"Then it shall be done. Perhaps when it is over my lady will recover. Yes. What was I thinking? If it's a curse, it will die with her!" The Sheriff exclaimed in a wide eyed moment of clarity.

"When?" Guy asked.

"As soon as possible. Perhaps tomorrow night. Let me see how my lady fares. I'm rather worried about her. It's been too long." The Sheriff said quietly.

"She will waken, cousin. She must! She is young, and strong."

"Obviously not strong enough." The Sheriff remarked. He cleared his throat. "Is there anything else?"

"The matter of the prisoner." Guy stated.

"What about him?" the Sheriff asked.

"He hasn't spoken in days. I found that out when I stopped by the dungeon to check on things before reporting to you now."

"Still? He still hasn't spoken? He was acting rather peculiar the last time I saw him." The Sheriff remarked.

"When was that?" Guy asked.

"Nine days ago." The Sheriff looked away.

"What?" Guy asked, incredulous. "Why didn't you tell me? I could've went there every day to look in on things, either on my way out, or on my way back into the castle!"

"I received a daily report from one of the guards." The Sheriff said.

"Obviously they were incomplete." Guy commented.

"Indeed." The Sheriff said. "He did fail to mention the point about the mute prisoner – our little leperous friend." The Sheriff spat. "Curses!"

"And what of the matter of your jailer?" Guy asked.

"Haven't heard from Hector. I will be appointing someone. But it won't be the guard who sent me the daily reports."

Yes things were much different than the Sheriff imagined they would be by now. By now, he was supposed to be moments away from his wedding. Nothing was happening, or moving at the right speed. He was almost bored of the daily tedium of it. There was lack of excitement. He was feeling guilty about missing that. He had a feeling that something more was coming to him. There would be more excitement indeed. Guy wondered why he was keeping the prisoner alive. The Sheriff hoped to extract more information from him before he disposed of him. But curiously, the prisoner wasn't talking.

The Sheriff had just come from the dungeon before this leisurely stroll through the gardens. He made a decision to appoint as jailer, the same guard he spoke to about Hector, then again at the last meeting with the prisoner ten days ago.

"What is your name, boy?" The Sheriff asked the young guard.

"Joseph, sir."

"Well, Joseph." The Sheriff said as he put his hand on his shoulder. "I'm in need of a jailer at the moment. My jailer, Hector had an urgent family matter. He had to take leave. What say you?"

"Me?"

"Yes - you. I'm appointing you jailer of this spectacularly loathed place!" he gestured about the dungeon with his free hand.

"As you wish, my Lord." Joseph replied. "I accept."

"Good. Now, my Lieutenant tells me our leperous friend has become rather….mute?"

"Yes. He hasn't spoken."

"Take me to him." The Sheriff commanded.

The Sheriff remembered how once they were outside the door to the cell, his taste for excitement was rekindled. He felt an adrenaline rush as he remembered.

"Hand me the lash." The Sheriff said, his arm outstretched, and palm facing upward.

"What?" the guard replied.

"The lash! Give it to me! I'll make him talk!"

The guard obeyed and gave the whip to the Sheriff. When the guard had finished unlocking the door, the Sheriff pushed him aside. He pushed on the door so it banged loudly against the wall announcing his entrance into the cell. The prisoner looked up.

"Oh, how good of you, Knight!" the Sheriff said as he moved toward him. "To acknowledge me… for once."

The prisoner nodded. The Sheriff inched his face in close to the prisoner and bore into his blue eyes that peered out of the hood.

"Why aren't you speaking? What manner of game is this?" The Sheriff punctuated it by flicking his wrist. The whip lashed out and created a whooshing sound to emphasize his words. The prisoner cringed.

"How is it that you're not speaking? I don't remember ordering the removal of your tongue!" the Sheriff barked.

Once again the prisoner muttered an inaudible, inarticulate phrase.

The Sheriff stood back, and swung the lash swiftly. It landed across the prisoner's trunk. The prisoner moaned. The Sheriff threw the lash to the ground, and grabbed him by his shirt.

"Don't think I'm finished with you, you cursed little leper! I will be back. You can count on that. And you, my leperous friend… are going to talk!" The Sheriff hissed.

Something was very peculiar about the way the prisoner was behaving. The Sheriff couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was very different from before. Almost fearful of him. One thing he could say about him in the past, was that the 'Fallen Knight' had never appeared to be frightened in the presence of the Sheriff. Even when he was being interrogated in the dungeon.

But the Sheriff's mind was so preoccupied with thoughts of Lady Rhiannon and her present state of health. He was worried about her. And time was running out. It had been a fortnight since his return to Nottingham. Still no word from his lead investigator, Duke Farnsworth. He knew it would be coming, however. The Duke never disappointed him. He hoped he would hear something soon. He needed to make plans. The Sheriff walked back toward the castle. He would check on Lady Rhiannon again.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Two of the Sheriff's guards were stationed outside of the castle gates. The young men had been stationed there since dawn and were eager for their relief to show up for an afternoon respite.

"How come we always get assigned to this duty when there's nobody of significance scheduled to call on the Sheriff?" The first one said.

"I've noticed that. But not much we can do about it." The second guard said, then added: "You whine like a mule."

The first guard ignored his comment and said: "When's lunch?"

"You just illustrated my point. It is not high noon yet. Look at the sky. Then you wouldn't need to ask me when the next break time comes." The second guard huffed, exasperated.

"You're awfully short today!" the first guard commented.

"I'm just as bored as you are!"

They heard the sounds of horse's hooves approaching. They looked ahead. A young man on horseback was coming toward them.

"He's not a dignitary." The first guard sighed.

"Oh, shut your cake hole!" the second one whispered in annoyance.

The young man dismounted. He pulled the horse by the reins and walked toward them.

"Good day, gentlemen. I have a very important message to deliver to the Sheriff of Nottingham." He held the sealed scroll in front of him to show to the guards.

"Really?" The second guard said. "Who sent you then?"

"Right." The young man began. He put his finger to his cheek. "It was a Duke…hmm? Farm? Farbirth? Farmgirth? No…that's not it." The young man scratched his head.

"You mean Duke Farnsworth?" the first guard offered.

"Yes! Indeed. That's it!" The young man smiled.

The second guard rolled his eyes. "You want us to let you in past the castle gates, and you can't even remember who sent you? Huh!"

"It's been awhile since I saw the man. A fortnight in fact. I hoped to arrive here sooner but, well… I had a wee problem with my horse."

"Indeed." The second guard remarked, unconvinced.

"He ate something that didn't agree with him." The young man said. The horse showed his teeth and looked to be smiling just then, as if to punctuate the young man's words. The first guard chuckled.

The second guard was undeterred. "Describe him."

"Who?" the messenger asked.

"Duke Farnsworth! The man who sent you!"

"Well…he was tall…broad. He had red hair, and he had a beard." The messenger replied.

The guard was satisfied. He nodded to the first guard.

"Show him into the castle. I'll remain here. Our relief should be here soon. You can return afterward."

The messenger smiled. It was exactly as the Duke told him it would be. Too bad he just didn't remember his magic name right away. But now, he was being shown into the castle, just as Duke Farnsworth said he would be. He looked up at the cream coloured vast, ornate structure of the castle as he was being lead into it. He'd never seen architecture of such magnificence before.

The Sheriff walked the corridors of the castle. He was on the main floor. The stairwell was approaching on the right. He heard footsteps fast approaching behind him.

"My Lord Sheriff!" the Scribe called out to him.

The Sheriff turned to face him. "I'm about to check on my lady. What is it?" the Sheriff replied impatiently.

"A messenger here to see you, sire. He was sent by Duke Farnsworth!" the Scribe said excitedly.

"Where is he?" the Sheriff asked urgently.

"In the Council Quarters."

Moments later the Sheriff entered the Council Quarters. A young man was standing there holding a scroll. There was a guard standing beside him. The Sheriff looked to the guard and nodded. He waved his hand to gesture dismissal and the guard took leave.

"You have a message for me?" The Sheriff asked as he walked toward the messenger.

"Yes, I believe so." The young man said. "Are you the Sheriff of Nottingham? I'm not from around here." The messenger explained.

"I am indeed." The Sheriff said.

The messenger handed him the scroll.

"How were they? Duke Farnsworth and my men?" the Sheriff asked him.

"All seemed well to me, my Lord. They were most eager to get this message to you."

"Yes. Were you paid?"

"Yes, my Lord. Duke Farnsworth paid me."

"Very well."

The messenger left, and the Sheriff closed the door behind him. He quickly broke the wax seal and unrolled the parchment. He began to read.

"My Lord Sheriff;

I have a lead. A blacksmith and his wife are the ones who were given your child. I do believe they are taking good care of your child. But I learned it was them after they fled. We are on the move. We know who they are. Mordrid and I met with them and spoke with them, alas, before we knew they were the ones we were seeking. We shall find them. I trust this note finds you and your lady well. I will be in touch again.

Sincerely,

Duke C. Farnsworth."

The Sheriff smiled. Not only at the content of the letter, but at the Duke's signature. It never failed. He always forgot Duke Farnsworth's first name, but was reminded every time he received word from him. The man he appointed his lead investigator, who was duke in his county, was Christian Farnsworth. He forgot because for years, he was known by his friends and colleagues as simply - the Duke. The Sheriff was startled suddenly as the door opened. It was Guy.

"I hear there's been word from the Duke." Guy said.

"News travels fast." The Sheriff remarked.

"What news, cousin?"

"He knows who has the child." The Sheriff replied.

"Good news, cousin! The child should be here soon – safe and sound."

"Once he finds them."

"What? I don't understand."

"I said he knows who has the child, cousin. I didn't say he had the child in custody yet."

"Why doesn't he?"

"The couple fled…with my child. Almost like being back to square one." The Sheriff sighed.

"The Duke and your men will find them. He is good." Guy reassured.

"Yes. I suppose you're right. It's just this cursed waiting. Waiting and waiting. It's interminable!" The Sheriff yelled out as he kicked one of the chairs at the large table in the room.

Guy stood silent and looked away.

"I'm going to go mad, Guy, if I don't do something. So, I've thought about it." The Sheriff began.

"About what?"

"I'm going to check on my lady, but tonight – we head into the village. Maybe that will make me feel better." He huffed.

"We're going to do it?" Guy asked.

"We are, cousin. We're going to finish that little wench off. It shall be done….tonight."

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Far into the north, a young maiden was visiting the village market. She was buying flour and eggs to make a loaf of bread when she got back home. It was her husband's favourite. She was a newlywed and still very eager to please him.

The day was warm. Overcast, yet still warm. It was busy at the market today. There were crowds forming around the vendors. People banged into her as she reached into her sack to extract coins to pay the merchant. She took the flour and eggs from him when the transaction was complete and walked back through the crowds. As she started up the dirt road she saw a man struggling. He had a walking stick and was attempting to carry a large sack. His gait kept faltering and he dropped the sack to the ground repeatedly.

She held her parcels close to her and walked slowly past him looking away.

"Pardon me, miss?" The man said. She turned to look at him. His face was hidden from her. He wore a hooded cloak of some sort. The hood was up, and it was quite voluminous. Even in the daylight, it still managed to shield his face from her.

"Yes?" the young beautiful woman said as she stopped in her tracks and looked at him.

"I'm having a bit of time here. I wondered if you might assist me with these parcels? My horse is just up ahead."

"I really should be getting home." She said, though she did feel pity for him.

"It shall only take a moment." He said.

"Well, alright. But I must be going after that." The young maiden replied. She walked over toward him and he handed her the sack. It was not as heavy as she perceived it to be. He extended his walking stick and planted it firmly on the ground before he walked with her. He smiled.

When they arrived to the place where his horse was secured, oddly in amongst the trees, she placed the sack down beside the horse.

"Good day." She said before she turned back toward the dirt road. Suddenly she felt his arms reach around from behind her and grab her. She tried but was unable to break free from him.

"It is indeed a good day." A malevolent voice whispered in her ear. "Oh yes, finally. A very good day indeed!" A damp sweet smelling cloth was placed over her mouth and nose. The smell of it sickened her. Then her hands relaxed. The sacks she carried with her fell to the ground. Her body felt warm and very light. Her eyelashes fluttered into blackness until her eyes closed shut.

He smiled. It was time for games again.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff was at the bedside sitting with Lady Rhiannon. It was late. He was dressed, ready to leave with Guy. Rhiannon wasn't stirring. The colour was starting to return to her cheeks but she'd still not yet awakened.

"It's all going to end, my angel." The Sheriff whispered as he caressed her cheek with his hand. "It all ends tonight. You shall be restored." He paused to look upon her. He hoped she'd wake soon. His days were so empty without her.

"My angel, you must wake." He said. "There's so much in store for us. And we still have the matter of our wedding." He kissed her cheek. Then he reached to his shoulders to grasp the hood, he pulled up the hood on the white linen cloak he hadn't worn in years. He was wearing it over his black leather coat. He donned his gloves and touched her hair.

"I will return, my lady." He said. Then he made a quick exit and made his way just outside of the stables to meet with Guy.

Guy was waiting, mounted atop his chestnut coloured mare.

"You ready?" the Sheriff asked.

Guy produced Lord Locksley's old sword. The Sheriff gave it to him after he killed Robin of Locksley. He wanted nothing more to do with it.

"I am." Guy replied.

"Let's do it." The Sheriff said.

They kicked their horses into a gallop and fled through the night. Guy lead the way, he knew where the manor was located. They made their way some twenty miles east of Nottingham. There were very few homes in the region. They continued along on a dirt road. The home of Lady Hestia emerged on the right upon a hill. Light shone out through the windows.

They found a spot nearby to secure their horses. It was concealed within the trees, yet close enough for a fast exit.

Guy tried the door. It was unlocked. He pushed it and they quietly entered. They crept in silently down a long corridor that lead into a chamber. A dim light was coming from it. They walked together and stopped at the door. Lady Hestia was inside, her back to them. She stood before her altar. A few candles burned there. The Sheriff saw the curious dagger gleaming by the light of one of them on the altar. He nodded to Guy. Guy approached her from behind and took hold of her. She tried to scream but Guy covered her mouth with his gloved hand.

The Sheriff advanced toward them. Guy turned her around to face the Sheriff. She looked at him, but did not recognize him immediately in his garb. The Sheriff pulled the dark green leather mask from his face.

"Well, what do we have here?" The Sheriff said as he took a brief moment to gaze about the room. "Looks like witchcraft to me." The Sheriff whispered in a hiss. He nodded to Guy to remove his hand from her mouth.

"What do you want?" Hestia asked.

"Oh, you see… it's not what I want from you." The Sheriff clicked his tongue against his palette for a few beats. "No, alas, it is…what I can do for you." He said.

She looked up at him curiously.

"The game is up. We know what you are." The Sheriff announced.

Hestia swallowed.

"Those found to be practicing witchcraft must burn at the stake." The Sheriff began. He inched closer. "That would be a long process. I'd report to the Bishop, then there would be a trial. Alas, there's enough evidence for a guilty verdict, and you would be found guilty. You'd be imprisoned for a time first, taking up space rotting in my dungeon. And then…you would burn." The Sheriff whispered roughly.

Hestia didn't speak. She looked at him as he continued.

"It's a dreadful way to go. I loathe that form of execution. The smell of burning flesh lingering in the air for weeks afterward is repulsive. I don't usually have a say in the manner of execution in these matters, but in this case the Bishop hasn't been told about you." The Sheriff said. "And you know… I would have to report this to him."

"What are you getting at?" she finally spoke.

"I'm here to hasten things for you, and spare myself the smell of burning flesh." He swiftly produced a dagger and plunged it into her chest. She let out a groan and threw her head back. Guy let go of her and she fell to the ground. The Sheriff reached down and pulled the dagger from her.

"Pray you're dead soon." The Sheriff said. "It's going to get rather smoky in here." He snarled.

They left her on the floor. In moments she was dead, but they didn't bother to wait and see.

"Burn it down." The Sheriff instructed Guy. "We shall leave no trace of her."

The Sheriff left the manor and went towards his horse. Guy followed the Sheriff's orders and proceeded to burn the manor. Nobody had seen them. There wasn't another home in the vicinity for miles. The Sheriff was satisfied. There was one problem solved, he thought as he untied the rope that secured the horse to the tree.

Task completed, Guy returned to his horse near to where the Sheriff was. The Sheriff was already seated upon his black mare.

"Let's get out of here." The Sheriff said.

They were silent the rest of the way to the castle. There was nothing left to say. This was their ritual whenever they needed to kill someone. They didn't talk for a few hours afterward. And the matter usually wouldn't come up again for days. In a twisted way, it was as if they were paying respect.

Finally, the Sheriff was entering the den outside the private chambers. Lady Margaret and Mortianna were at the bedside. The Sheriff removed his gloves and the white hooded cloak and cast them aside. Then he proceeded through the doors leading into the private chambers.

Lady Margaret looked up. The Sheriff looked at her curiously.

"It's been days, my Lord." The midwife spoke. "Perhaps it's best to send for your physician." She suggested

"No." The Sheriff said.

Lady Margaret came toward him. "I'm not sure what more can be done."

"Is she worse?" the Sheriff asked.

"Well, no. But she's the same. There is no change. That is what concerns me."

"What are you saying? If she is not worse, what exactly is the problem?"

"The sooner she awakens, the better for her outcome. If she continues like this, then…" her words trailed off and she looked down at her hands.

"Then what?" the Sheriff asked.

"Then – I recommend that you prepare yourself." She said.

The Sheriff's eyes widened. He rushed to the bedside. He looked to Mortianna who was there tending to Lady Rhiannon. "Leave her." He said. "I'll take over now." Mortianna obeyed.

The Sheriff sat beside Lady Rhiannon on the bed. He reached beside him and grabbed the cup of batwing tea from the bedside table. He raised Lady Rhiannon up with his left hand, supporting her shoulders, and held the cup to her lips.

"Come on, Rhiannon. You must drink. Listen to me!" He shouted.

Her eyelashes began to flutter. He moved the cup away from her.

"My lady! Yes. Yes! Open your eyes!" He commanded.

She tried to obey and did manage to open them for a brief second. She looked into his eyes then before she closed them again. The Sheriff put the cup to her lips again and she began to drink. He smiled and kissed the top of her head as he held her to him.

"It will be alright now, my angel. It's almost over." The Sheriff said.

She let her head rest against his chest and exhaled an audible sigh.

"Rhiannon? My lady? What is it?" He held her out before him to look upon her face.

"My…love." She whispered faintly.

"Yes, I'm here." He said. She slumped back to the bed then and fell asleep. Yet, he was filled with new hope. He was beginning to feel relief. At least she spoke. She was only awake a few moments, but it had to be a good sign. He removed his coat and stretched out on the bed beside her. He lay on his side and looked upon her as she slept.

"My beautiful lady." The Sheriff said as he smoothed her hair. "Wake up from your sleep. And when you do…I shall be here."