It was about an hour past sunrise on Monday morning when the Sheriff awakened. He thought he heard the bell pealing in the den. He shook his head. He must have been dreaming. He looked at his lady lying beside him. She appeared to be sleeping, but why were her eyes half open? He sat up abruptly and leaned on his elbow, startled to see her looking like that.
"Rhiannon?" The Sheriff whispered.
She murmured something but didn't wake up. He sighed. Perhaps she was just exhausted, as obviously he had been. There it was again. Mortianna was summoning. He arose from the bed. He quickly threw on his trousers and laced them. Then he donned his boots and his voluminous black satin robe. He walked into the den, threw open the door and descended the stairs. When he opened the creaking door downstairs, he called to her.
"Mortianna?" The Sheriff called. Where was she? He muttered in annoyance and walked inside.
Finally, he heard her gown rustling along the floor.
"My child! You've returned." Mortianna said. She looked surprised to see him. Was she jesting?
"What matter of importance is it now, Mortianna?" The Sheriff asked. "Because, it must be of vital importance for you to call at such an early hour." He said.
"If you must know, it was not you that I was calling for." Mortianna said as she turned and went back to the cauldron that was heating on the fire.
The Sheriff shook his head and swiftly walked up behind her.
"If you weren't calling me - then what? Did you ring it by accident? Or, are you going to tell me that one of your cursed birds flew over to pull the cord with their beak?" He spat.
"I was calling for your lady." Mortianna said, as she stirred the mixture in her cauldron.
"My lady? What for? Is she in danger?" The Sheriff asked with his eyebrow raised.
"No. It is time for her potion." Mortianna replied.
"Potion? Didn't you already give it to her?" The Sheriff asked. He was certain that Rhiannon had already taken it. Last night! She was wild and uninhibited then? She had to have taken it. How could she have given herself so completely to him if she still remembered her attack?
"Oh, yes, my Lord. She has been taking it. For nearly a week now." Mortianna announced.
"What?" He asked, incredulous.
"Remember I told you about the plant? It is a dangerous seed." She reminded him.
"Yes."
"You wanted it weak." Mortianna said.
"Yes, yes. What of it?" He huffed in frustration.
"I did make it weak. And as a further safety measure, I felt it best to administer a small dose given at twenty four hour intervals. I wasn't sure what one complete dose would do if given all at once, so I felt it best to give it in this manner." Mortianna explained.
The Sheriff smiled. "Brilliant, Mortianna. Yes, now that you've explained it, it makes perfect sense."
"Good. So why don't you wake her for me?" Mortianna asked matter of factly.
"She does not know that we spoke about this." The Sheriff said.
"Well, she might as well know now." Mortianna said.
She went to the wall, pulled the cord, and began to ring the tiny bells in the Sheriff's den.
The Sheriff stood looking at her, stunned.
"My Lord, there is one thing I need to tell you. Before Lady Rhiannon comes down to see me." Mortianna began.
"What is that?"
"I did not tell her what it is I'm using to erase her memory." Mortianna announced.
"She does not know?" The Sheriff asked, incredulous.
"No. And we will not tell her." Mortianna said.
The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north.
Mortianna continued. "I warned you of the dangers of thorn apple seed. For some people, it creates a dependency. True, I'm giving her a weak concentration in small amounts, and in divided doses. But I still don't know if she could become dependent on it." Mortianna explained. "And so, I told her I would not tell her the name of the plant used. I do not want her to know where to find it, where it grows." She stated, confidently.
The Sheriff smiled. " Mortianna, you've thought of everything." He was pleased. The witch had been doing everything in her power to ensure his lady's safety.
"And the extra measure along with that, is that I insist she drink it in my presence. She wanted to take it with her. I told her she'd be given no opportunity to hoard it." Mortianna said.
The Sheriff shook his head slightly. Stunned by how well his counsel had thought out every last detail in the matter. He was pleased. She took his instruction seriously, to lengths he never would have thought of.
They heard footsteps coming down the stairs. They turned around. In moments, Lady Rhiannon appeared at the foot of the stairs. She had put her velvet dressing gown on over the same white gown she was wearing the night before. She was fastening her sash and checking her pockets.
"I'm here, Mortianna!" She called as she entered in the apothecary. She looked up. "Oh! My Lord? What are you doing here?" Lady Rhiannon asked, startled to see him there.
Mortianna came forward. "He knows, my child."
"What?" Lady Rhiannon exclaimed, incredulous.
"Forgive me, my child. It was I. When you came seeking my assistance, I knew what would work to serve you in your quest. But if you recall, I told you it was a dangerous seed." Mortianna said.
"But?..."
"I had to discuss the matter with him before I agreed to it. I guess you can thank him, because he agreed to it. The Sheriff is the reason that you've been receiving a daily measure of this mixture each morning. If he didn't approve it, you'd be in the same situation you were in when you came to see me a week ago." Mortianna said.
Rhiannon shook her head slightly, stunned. She almost felt like…she was being controlled.
"Is nothing private in this damned castle?" Lady Rhiannon exclaimed suddenly.
"My lady." The Sheriff said as he moved in toward her.
"No!" Lady Rhiannon said, turning away from him with her arms folded.
Mortianna walked slowly toward her. "My child, everything you've told me is indeed private. This was the only time I involved another person." She smiled. "For, I was aware of the strong potential for danger. I have never worked with this plant. I needed to discuss the risks with your betrothed, as well as you." Mortianna said.
Lady Rhiannon stood staring at her, still rather stunned.
"You see, my child, I wish no harm to come to neither you, nor my Lord. And whatever affects one of you, will affect the other. If serious harm came to you, I needed the Sheriff to be forewarned. In this matter, I needed to think of every detail." Mortianna explained. For, it was true, her intention was pure.
Lady Rhiannon sighed. It did appear that Mortianna was genuinely concerned for her welfare.
"My child." Mortianna continued. "My only mistake was not telling you my intent to speak with the Sheriff. I promise if a situation like this arises again, I will tell you if I feel we should share it with your betrothed. Otherwise, any dealings we shall have in future, shall be strictly between us."
"Alright." Lady Rhiannon said. "You're right – you should have told me you intended to tell him. But I suppose you were just concerned about the effects on me."
"Indeed." Mortianna said.
Rhiannon didn't know what she was more distressed about. The fact that the Sheriff knew, even before she did that Mortianna would agree to do this for her. Or the fact that, once again, there would be no opportunity to obtain an extra measure of the potion. Not now. Not with two pairs of eyes watching her, even though the witch only had one good one. She suspected she was more disturbed by the second point. She sighed and let her right hand wander slowly to her gown pocket. The vial was there. She could feel it. Not that it mattered now. Curses! She looked up at the Sheriff.
"Do you know what it is she is giving me?" Rhiannon asked him.
The Sheriff didn't answer right away. For the first time he wasn't sure if it was better to lie, or to tell the truth. He looked at Mortianna. She nodded. She told him in a glance that it would not serve him to lie.
He cleared his throat. "Yes." He said.
"You know?"
"Yes, but I don't know much about it. Mortianna is the expert. Indeed, it is like I know, yet I don't know, all at the same time. She had to explain everything about it to me." The Sheriff said as he looked into her eyes. None of what he said was a lie. He hardly knew anything about thorn apple seed, jimsonweed, or whatever else it was called!
She had to admit, he was genuine. She could tell. He never broke eye contact the whole time he spoke.
The Sheriff smiled, then turned and headed for the doorway.
"Wait." Lady Rhiannon called to him.
The Sheriff turned around.
"It's okay. Stay. You know the worst of it anyway. The reason that brought me to Mortianna in the first place." Lady Rhiannon said. Though lately she was having trouble remembering what the reason was.
He smiled and returned to the apothecary.
"If Mortianna agrees to it." The Sheriff said.
"Yes." Mortianna said. She beckoned for him to stand back close to where the cauldron and her implements were located, about six feet from the small table.
Rhiannon took a seat at the smaller table. Mortianna walked in the direction of the Sheriff to obtain her implements. The Sheriff observed her curiously. It seemed she needed a good deal of supplies.
She picked up all of her necessary items. She brought the bowl, vial, and stir stick with her. She placed them on the table. Then she turned around and faced the Sheriff.
"There is a small silver cup of ale on the table, there beside the cauldron. Right behind where you're standing. Would you be so kind to bring it to me?" She asked.
The Sheriff nodded and turned around. He saw it right away. He picked it up and brought it over to her. Mortianna took it from him and placed it on the table in front of Rhiannon.
Mortianna took the seat opposite from Lady Rhiannon. She motioned for the Sheriff to return to where he stood before he brought the cup to her. He went back to it, and stood facing them with his arms folded, curious to see what would happen. He'd never been present when Mortianna was with another subject before.
"Now, my child." Mortianna said to Lady Rhiannon. "Tell me, how do you feel?"
"I feel well." Rhiannon said.
"Have you noticed anything unusual?" The witch asked her.
"Just thirst." Rhiannon replied.
The Sheriff nodded. He remembered her behaviour the night before, in the gardens and back in the private chambers. She was desperate to drink water. He'd witnessed it.
Mortianna nodded. "That is an unpleasant side effect of the…plant." She almost blurted out the name of it. She was glad she caught herself. "It's curious that you are experiencing that, however. Expecially since you haven't taken enough of it to cause such a reaction." Mortianna said with her eyebrows raised.
"Yes." Rhiannon replied, her eyes downcast. She was afraid to meet her gaze then. She didn't want Mortianna to suspect she was hiding something. "It's not that terrible." Rhiannon said. "I can deal with it."
"Indeed. Now, what memory are we trying to erase?" Mortianna asked.
The Sheriff was still very surprised at Mortianna. She was already testing Lady Rhiannon's memory. He guessed to use as an indicator of when to cease administering the potion. Indeed, the crone had thought of everything!
"I need water." Rhiannon blurted. "Do you have water?"
Mortianna eyed her strangely. "You did not answer." She said.
"Just a sip of water, and then I will answer you." Rhiannon bargained.
Mortianna nodded. She got up, and walked over to the table near where the Sheriff was standing. She found a pitcher there and began to pour into another cup. Then she turned and swiftly glided back to the table. She passed the cup to Rhiannon.
Rhiannon tool it and drank the entire contents of it in one smooth draught. Then she placed it back on the table.
"Again, my child. What memory do you wish to forget?"
"Him." Lady Rhiannon said.
"Whom?" Mortianna asked.
"That vile man who held me prisoner." Rhiannon replied.
"What did the man do?" Mortianna probed.
The Sheriff shifted nervously. Perhaps it would've been best if he hadn't stayed.
"He hurt me." Lady Rhiannon said quietly. She knew that was the answer Mortianna was seeking. It worked every time she couldn't recall exactly how the man had hurt her.
"Yes." Mortianna sighed. She picked up the stick and began to stir the contents in the bowl. Then the Sheriff observed her pick the bowl up, and she carefully poured a tiny amount into a very small vial. She handed the vial to Lady Rhiannon.
"Take it, my child. Drink all from this vial." She commanded her.
Rhiannon took it, brought it to her lips, and took it quickly. Then she picked up the cup of ale and chased down the vile taste of the potion. She put the cup down and her hands fell to her lap.
The Sheriff watched her. Why was his lady fiddling with her dressing gown under the table? Like she was looking for something? Or was he mistaken?
He leaned back against the table. As he did so, a flask of lavender oil that was unbeknownst to him, sitting on the table, fell off of the table and smashed to the floor, sending some of the oil into the fire where the cauldron was brewing. He felt a sudden heat behind him, but Mortianna reacted before he could.
"Oh, for the love of Zeus!" Mortianna exclaimed, as she turned and saw the catastrophe ensuing at the sound of the glass breaking. She bolted up from the table and ran toward him.
He looked at her strangely, for he did not yet know. "What, Madam?" he asked her.
"The fire!" Mortianna shrieked. "Step away!"
Rhiannon looked to her right. There was complete chaos going on by the cauldron. The Sheriff and Mortianna were looking for something to extinguish the small fire, neither of them looking in her direction. She smiled mischievously.
She quickly grabbed the empty vial from her pocket. She knew she was being brazen, but she needed the potion. She quickly unscrewed the cap under the table, keeping her eyes upon the Sheriff and Mortianna who were off to her right. She grabbed the bowl and brought it to her lap, and quickly poured into the vial. She put the bowl back from where it came, and looked over to her right again. The cauldron had been moved to the floor, and the two of them were smothering the fire with a heavy rug that had been on the floor near the washstand. She looked back into her lap.
The Sheriff was satisfied that they had controlled the small fire, and Mortianna was now repositioning the cauldron back over the fire. He turned back to look upon his lady. What was she doing? She was looking to her lap and her hands were there under the table. She was concentrating on something. What was she up to? He wondered.
"My Lady?" He said as he moved in closer to her.
"Yes?" Rhiannon looked up. Her hands remained in her lap.
"What were you doing just now?" The Sheriff asked, his eyes narrowed curiously.
She transferred the vial to her left hand. He was to her right. She slowly slid her left hand into her pocket.
"Just a few seconds ago." He asked as he advanced toward her until he stood three feet away.
"Oh, that." Rhiannon said absently. She was glad she was thinking this morning.
The Sheriff moved in closer still. "What's in your hand?" He asked her directly.
"Nothing." She muttered weakly.
"What…is in…your hand?" The Sheriff repeated slowly, with his voice raised a few decibels higher.
She let the vial fall deeper into her pocket, out of her grasp.
He moved in suddenly and circled to her left. He grabbed her left wrist suddenly, and swiftly pulled it out of her pocket. All he saw was the ruby and diamond ring upon her finger that he had given to her.
"I was playing with it." Rhiannon said as she looked up at him.
He raised his eyebrow at her. She tried to ignore it.
"I was polishing the stones with the sash on my gown. Sometimes I like to…make them shine." She said.
"You sure?" He asked.
"Yes." Rhiannon lied.
The Sheriff smiled. It appeared she was telling the truth. Still there was something about her behaviour lately, he couldn't put his finger on it. He would be watching her. Now he was home, and he would spend more time watching over her. He couldn't deny it, something was definitely strange about her.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
The Duke and his men were too far in the north in the county of York to see any of the proclamations yet. It would be at least a week before the Sheriff's proclamations arrived to the area where his men were spread out in. They hadn't had much luck in their pursuit of the blacksmith and his wife. It was as if the couple had vanished. The men were still divided in two groups, and continuing to follow the maps that Richard had drawn. They were growing weary and frustrated. On this day, Duke Farnsworth, Richard, and Nigel were riding alongside one another, and were close to entering yet another small village.
"I doubt we shall have any luck here either." Richard muttered.
"We must be persistent." The Duke said. "We're going to interview as many people as possible."
"What good will that do?" Nigel questioned. He was growing tired of the mission, and very eager to return home.
"We ask as many people as possible if they've noticed any newcomers to their village. Particularly any couples with a small babe." The Duke replied.
"Huh!" Nigel huffed. "There's got to be hundreds of babies in this cursed country with dark curly hair and green eyes. Even if we think we've found the child, how will we be so sure?" He asked.
"Because - I've never forgotten the faces of that man and his wife." Duke Farnsworth said. He paused a moment regarding both of them, their horses were slowed to a cantor. "I'm not giving up. And neither are you two." He said.
"I do hope we wrap this up soon." Richard remarked. "We're getting precariously close to the region occupied by the Celts. I'm just as loyal to the Sheriff as you are, Duke, but this mission is beginning to look futile."
"No." The Duke countered. "It is not futile. How far could one man, his wife, an infant, and one horse with a cart go? It's not like he has help. No. We keep going. We do not relent." The Duke spoke adamantly.
"I do hope your convictions are right." Nigel commented.
"He's going to be needing work. Unless - he had a good deal of savings." The Duke went on. "How much of a fortune could a blacksmith hold? Maybe we've just been asking the wrong questions." He mused.
"Yes. How many blacksmiths are there in any given village? Two? Maybe three at best?" Richard pointed out.
"And some don't have any at all." The Duke said. "We will persist. We are not heading back to Nottingham until we have the three of them in custody. And when we do, I'll find a messenger to send word to the Sheriff. In the meantime, let's focus on the mission. Enough with this complaining. You are Black Knights. You've endured worse circumstances than the one you're in now." The Duke reminded his men.
Nigel and Richard nodded. Indeed, they had no choice. The three men urged their horses to a gallop along the path, each hoping for a break – some glimmer of hope they prayed would present to them soon.
________________________________________________________________________________________
In the afternoon, there was yet another meeting in the Council Quarters. It was an hour into the tiresome meeting and already the Sheriff was bored. It seemed he hadn't missed much while he was away. How he grew tired of the tedium at times. He realized then that though they were necessary, the town council meetings were probably one of the items at the top of his list, of the things he hated the most about his duty as the Sheriff. As Guy asked around the table if there were any other points of mention, his ears pricked up when the village tax collector spoke.
"The taxes have been collected from the local merchants, my Lord. I have them with me." The man spoke. He was tall and muscled, with sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and sported a few days worth of beard growth.
"Right, Gregor." The Sheriff said. "So, where is it?" He asked him pointedly.
The Sheriff eyed him curiously as the man began to reach down under the large oak table. He brought a small chest up from the floor. He arose from his chair and walked around to the head of the table where the Sheriff was seated, and placed the chest on the table in front of him.
The Sheriff opened the chest. "Yes." The Sheriff said as he ran his hands through the cool coins. "Well, Gregor, you're my tax collector – what's this? Been drinking too much mead lately? So much so, that you can no longer count? Or, is business slow in the village?" The Sheriff remarked facetiously.
"My Lord?" Gregor said.
"There was more in the treasury last month." The Sheriff said. "What's the meaning of this? Any fool can see that you've come up short. So, what is it? One of the excuses I already stated?" The Sheriff asked as he slowly arose from his seat. "Or, are you in fact, keeping some of the money for yourself?" He asked accusingly with his left eyebrow pointing northward.
"No, my Lord." Gregor replied. "Indeed, you were right. Business seems to have been slow in the village."
"Is that so?" The Sheriff remarked sarcastically.
"Indeed, my Lord. The merchants tell me it is difficult to amass enough money when they have to pay too many taxes – for their properties as well as their businesses." Gregor said.
"Well they had just better get used to it, hadn't they?" The Sheriff spat.
"Yes, my Lord." Gregor replied. The Sheriff nodded for him to return to his seat.
"Is there anything else?" The Sheriff asked as he scanned the faces around the table.
His Knight spoke. "Yes, my Lordship. There uhh….is one other thing." He began.
The Sheriff sighed. "Oh, let me guess…the blacksmith has failed…yet again." The Sheriff rolled his eyes. "What is it now?"
"It's the helms, sir. Some of the men are complaining they are too small."
"Splendid. First he gives me a headache, now he gives my men a headache! Curses!" The Sheriff spat. "This inept man is costing me money!" He roared. He turned to his Scribe.
"Scribe!"
"Yes, my Lord?" The old man replied.
"Withhold the wages from this paltry ferret!" The Sheriff demanded. "Commencing today until further notice." He added.
The Scribe nodded and made a note of it on his writing tablet.
The Sheriff looked around the table at the men gathered there. "And if one of you could find me a real blacksmith, it would be very useful. I already made this request! Is there nobody to take his place? Or did any of you even bother to look for another?" He asked them collectively.
"There isn't one. Not for miles, it seems." The town crier spoke.
"Well, this is certainly becoming a nuisance. No – more like a festering pustule! I'm starting to wonder if I should just take up with a hammer and an anvil myself! In fact, perhaps this will motivate you…twenty five crowns to the person who can find me a competent blacksmith!" The Sheriff shouted. "Without a good blacksmith, I might as well not have Knights!"
The men gathered at the meeting nodded their agreement.
"Good. Now that that is settled… if there is nothing else, than we shall continue this discussion next week." He said.
The meeting adjourned. After everyone had left, Guy stayed behind to speak with his cousin.
"Cousin, I wonder if I could speak to you about a particular matter?" He began.
"Yes, Guy. What is it?" The Sheriff asked.
"Regarding my nuptials with Lady Meridwyn." Guy said.
"Right. You told me you wanted to get that out of the way." The Sheriff said.
"Indeed. Before anyone in the village starts talking." Guy added.
"Yes. Have you a particular day in mind?"
"Next week, actually. But I haven't spoken to my lady about it." Guy replied.
"Well, that's good, cousin. Finally – something to look forward to! I haven't even been able to think of my own wedding with all of these other matters going on around me." The Sheriff huffed.
"Then you…support it?" Guy asked.
"Of course I do! Why wouldn't I?" The Sheriff asked, somewhat bewildered.
"Because it is so close to your own wedding date."
"My wedding…" The Sheriff mused. "I know, in fact, it is only weeks away, but sometimes it feels like years away. So much to plan yet. So many other matters directing my attention away from it. Sometimes I don't even feel like I am engaged." He said.
Guy looked at him strangely.
"What I mean is that I could use a holiday. If I could just be permitted to shut my thoughts out for a few days, and just focus on my lady, then I would feel like I was engaged." He explained. "But you…well, we must concern ourselves with you first." The Sheriff grinned. "At least you won't have to worry about fulfilling your husbandly duties within a month's time of marrying her." He winked.
Guy smiled. "Indeed."
"Are you taking her anywhere afterward?" The Sheriff asked.
"Yes, but not too far. My manor in Nettlestone." Guy replied.
"She will like that." The Sheriff said.
"Indeed. I thought I'd use the opportunity to see to it that the manor is prepared for the arrival of your child too." Guy added.
The Sheriff smiled. "You remembered."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Good. Will you be gone long? I'd like you and your lady present at our wedding."
"Just a week, I think. I'm sure you will be needing me to resume my duties." Guy said.
"I appreciate that. Especially now, when the majority of the competent men who work for me are scattered in the north!" The Sheriff spat, thinking of his useless blacksmith. "Now, you had better talk to your lady. You have a wedding to plan and not much time to do it."
"Indeed." Guy nodded. He started to head out of the door but then turned and paused. "By the way, cousin, how does your lady fare?" Guy asked abruptly.
The Sheriff looked at him strangely, startled by the question.
"She seems fine." The Sheriff replied, his eyebrow raised in suspicion.
"Right, well…" Guy stammered. He shifted nervously, his eyes downcast.
"Why do you ask?" The Sheriff questioned.
"It's probably nothing." Guy began, struggling to find the words.
"What is?" The Sheriff demanded.
"Just that, my lady mentioned something to me last night." Guy said.
"Oh?" The Sheriff said, his curiousity piqued.
"Yes, just a couple of unusual things about your lady in the last few days, evidently. Your lady told mine it was because she cannot sleep when you're not here." Guy mentioned.
The Sheriff smiled, then cleared his throat. "Did she say what kinds of unusual things?"
"Yes. For starters, she was certain she had seen you riding toward the castle, but that was on the morning that we were nearing the cabin where the outlaw and Lady Brigid were. My lady told me it took much convincing to persuade Lady Rhiannon that she was surely mistaken." Guy stated.
"Indeed." The Sheriff mused as he stroked his chin with his thumb and forefingers. "Perhaps she was right. She did mention that she had difficulty sleeping."
"Yes, I just thought I should ask." Guy said. "I'm sure she'll be fine, now that you've returned to her."
"Yes." The Sheriff said. Though, he did find this news oddly puzzling. "I will ask her about it. Now, you had best go and speak to your lady. For, no doubt, she will be eager to begin the wedding planning." The Sheriff advised.
When Guy left, the Sheriff remained there a few moments. He walked over toward the window for a moment to think. It was certainly curious what Guy had just told him about his lady. The Sheriff thought about all of the changes with her. The thirst. Her conviction that she was sure she'd seen him riding toward the castle, when in fact, he was miles away from her. And something else. What was it? Last night – out in the gardens. She asked him about the nature of his mission. And within only moments she had forgotten him telling her the mission was a success. He realized that some of her behaviour was not making sense. Why? Could it be the potion? Mortianna had made it weak. And the crone was going to great lengths to administer it safely. Or was it something else entirely? Could it be that his lady's mind was swimming with thoughts over details of their upcoming wedding? He shook his head. Regardless of the cause something was amiss. The matter deserved attention. He decided to keep a closer eye on her.
