Drake and Adam were once again posted at the castle gates near midday on Tuesday. Their comrade and now fellow Black Knight, Luke had been granted a day off. It was the first they hadn't worked with him in quite some time, and they were feeling his absence. They had begun to enjoy his company, but more importantly, they had gained respect for his abilities as Knight following his quick thinking on the eve of Sir Gisborne's wedding, when he was instrumental in helping to save the Sheriff's lady. It had been a rather tedious morning, so they had been passing the time with idle chatter. At the moment, they were rehashing the events of that night.

"I knew that maiden was bad news." Adam remarked. "It was a good thing Luke arrived on the scene or who knows what would've happened?" He added.

"Well, I knew she was a bit off but she certainly didn't seem capable of murder to me." Drake remarked as he readjusted his helm. For it was ill fitting and becoming uncomfortable.

"A bit off?" Adam snorted. "Ha! Turns out she was bleeding cracked! Our friend Luke had her pegged right."

"Alright, you made your point." Drake huffed. For he still was in disbelief that the fair maiden was capable of such treachery when she stood in front of him, making eyes at him. He really would've loved the opportunity of courting her. He sighed. Were there no unattached, fair maidens left in this cursed county?

"Ah, sorry mate. I had forgotten you were taking a liking to her. Well, listen – maybe this will cheer you. Next week, all three of us have been granted the same day off. Luke and I spoke about it and we think it would be in order for the three of us to visit the tavern in the village. What say you, mate?" Adam proposed.

"I say…that an evening of merriment is indeed in order." Drake agreed. "It's got to be better than standing here all day wearing a helm that is too tight! Curses! Who is this useless blacksmith?" Drake exclaimed as he quickly pulled the helm off and shook out his long dark hair. "What about you? You don't seem bothered. I, for one, am getting a damned headache!"

"Mine seems fine. But if you recall, I had a problem with the hauberk until a new one was reissued." Adam reminded him.

"I hope the Sheriff finds a replacement for him. This is unacceptable!" Drake spat as he massaged his temples.

"Don't count on it being soon. I've heard he's having a time finding a replacement." Adam remarked in chagrin.

"Excuse – moi?" A woman's sing song voice interrupted them.

They turned and met with an attractive middle aged woman. She was slender, dressed in a very fine dark green gown comprised of raw silk. Her sparkling blue eyes and silver hair, which she wore in an elegant chignon, shined in the autumn sunlight.

"Good day, Madam." Drake said. "How may we assist you?"

"I am here to see Mademoiselle Rhiannon." She smiled at both of them.

Adam and Drake exchanged brief glances at one another. The last time they let someone through the portcullis wishing to see the Sheriff's lady, the outcome nearly ended in disaster. They couldn't be too careful with whom they permitted to enter now.

"Is that so?" Adam asked suspiciously.

"Oui." The woman smiled as she looked upon both of their faces.

"And whom might you be?" Drake asked.

"I am Madame Arianna Oberon. I have been commissioned by Mademoiselle Rhiannon to create her wedding gown. I am a dressmaker." She replied.

"Is that so?" Drake said with his eyebrow raised.

"Oui. If you must – you can check with Mon Seigneur Sheriff. For – il est mon ami. I've known him many years." She replied confidently.

"Mon ami?" Adam questioned.

"Droit. He is my friend." Madam Oberon explained. "I also created Lady Gisborne's wedding gown." She added.

"Oh…yes. Now I remember." Adam said. He looked to Drake. "She's legit, mate. Luke and I were working the day she brought two packages to the castle for Lady Gisborne and the Sheriff's lady. It was two days before Sir Guy's wedding to his lady." Adam said. "Turns out the packages contained gowns for both of them."

"Alright." Drake relented. He looked to Madam Oberon. "You may enter, Madam." He nodded to her.

The woman smiled. The portcullis raised. During their exchange with her they didn't notice the man who was quietly standing near the portcullis, unobtrusively waiting for an opportunity to sneak in past the gates along with her. They didn't see him or notice when he entered through the gates, pleased that he wouldn't have to explain himself to them.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff was on the main floor, just outside of the Council Quarters. He was speaking to his Scribe about the matter of the inept blacksmith when the young blond haired page arrived.

"Excuse me, my lord." The page interrupted.

The Sheriff turned and looked down at him. "Yes, Yes. What do you want?" The Sheriff asked hurriedly. For he was eager to check in on his lady again.

"There is a woman here to see your lady, sir." The page announced.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north. "Who is she?" He asked.

"Right. It's a funny name. Air…Airy? Hmm…Ohber – oh dear." The page stammered.

The Sheriff shook his head. "Is this some kind of a trick? I don't have time for your childish games!" The Sheriff huffed.

"No sir. It is true. She says she knows you, and your lady quite well." The page said. "But she speaks with a foreign accent and I've never heard a name like that before." The young lad shrugged.

"Where is she then?" The Sheriff asked impatiently.

"Waiting outside of your office to speak with you, my lord." The page answered.

The Sheriff made his way along the halls wondering whom the visitor was. Ten minutes later he approached the vicinity. He saw Madam Oberon there. Two of his sentry were there with her. He walked toward her and smiled. She nodded in respect to her Sheriff.

"Lady Arianna! How nice to see you." He said as he took her hand and kissed it.

"Mon Seigneur Sheriff." Madam Oberon said. "You know – you're the only one in the village who addresses me that way, and – j'adore le changement."

The Sheriff smiled. "My page said you are here to visit with my lady?"

"Oui, Mon Seigneur Sheriff. How is Mademoiselle Rhiannon? I was shocked by the news!" Madam Oberon exclaimed.

"Slowly improving, Lady Arianna. I'm sure she'll be delighted to see you. Won't you come with me? I'll take you to her." He said as he offered his arm to her.

Madam Oberon smiled and took his arm. "Oui. Il est de mon plaisir." She said.

Fifteen minutes later, they entered into the den just outside of the Sheriff's private chamber. He smiled as he recalled that before he met Rhiannon, the only person who ever came into it was Guy, or the servants when he wasn't there. Now it was becoming a meeting place. The Sheriff gestured toward the small sofa in the room.

"Take a seat, Lady Arianna, I shall see if she is awake. She's been rather weakened by the whole experience." He said.

Madam Oberon nodded and took her place.

He picked up a flask and quickly poured a small amount into the cup beside it, then took the cup with him. The Sheriff went through the doors of the chamber. He found his lady seated on the window ledge. She was gazing out of the window.

"My lady." The Sheriff said.

She turned to face him.

"Are you well enough to visit with a friend, my love?" The Sheriff asked as he walked toward her.

"Are you jesting?" Rhiannon said as she slowly stood up. "I would welcome it! Is Lady Gisborne back already?" She asked.

"No. It is not Lady Gisborne." He smiled.

"Then who is here?" She asked.

"You'll see." The Sheriff smiled. "But first, it is time for your measure of opium." He handed the cup to her. "Drink this." He said. She took the cup and drank the vile tasting medicine.

"Where is my visitor?" Rhiannon inquired.

"Come." He said as he offered her his arm. She took it and held his arm with both hands to steady her as he led her into the den.

Madam Oberon stood when the doors opened.

"Oh, Madam Oberon!" Lady Rhiannon smiled as she greeted her guest.

Madam Oberon walked toward her. "Mademoiselle Rhiannon! Comment vas – tu, mon cher?" She asked in concern.

"Pardon, Madam?" Rhiannon asked.

"Oui. Forgive me, mon cher. Sometimes I forget to check myself. How are you?" She smiled.

"Well, I'm alive. I'm grateful for that. I do hope I'll be feeling stronger soon." Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff assisted Lady Rhiannon to the small sofa after the ladies exchanged greetings. He then offered Madam Oberon a libation of brandy before he departed to allow them to visit in private. When he opened the door to leave the den, the page was standing there with his hand poised to knock on the door. The Sheriff bumped into him since he was looking ahead rather than down.

"What now, you little runt? What are you – my shadow all of a sudden?" The Sheriff huffed.

"You had better come to the Council Quarters, my lord. You have yet another visitor." The page announced.

"Who is it?" The Sheriff asked impatiently.

"It's a man this time, sir. I've never seen him. I dare say he's not from the village."

"Whom? Did you get a name?" The Sheriff asked.

"It's another funny one, sir. He was mumbling, but it sounded like… Bacon?" The page shrugged.

"What?" The Sheriff asked incredulous. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You really ought to speak to my physician about that hearing problem of yours!" The Sheriff remarked facetiously before he hurriedly made his way there.

When he walked through the doors of the Council Quarters he frowned. He recognized the man straightway. It was the troublesome and homely looking brother to the late Ladies Hestia and Hecate. The short, stout man with the balding, reddish blond hair, stood in the room, flanked by two of his sentry.

"Oh. It's you again." The Sheriff remarked.

"This is Master Hamon." One of the guards spoke up, nodding to the man on his left.

"Well, what can I do for you – Hamon?" The Sheriff asked casually, enunciating the man's name in a snide tone of voice.

"If you recall, my lord, I came to see you just over a month ago regarding my sister's home. It was curiously burned down." The older man said.

"Oh, yes. Indeed. I do remember it now." The Sheriff remarked as he strode over to the table and poured himself a goblet of water from the pitcher, which was placed on a tray there.

"I never did find out if my sister was inside when it burned. I haven't heard from her either." The man said.

"Right." The Sheriff said absently as he sipped from the goblet, then turned around to face him.

"You asked me then to leave my address with your Scribe, which I did do. Yet still I haven't heard what you found out." Hamon pointed out.

"Yes." The Sheriff said.

The short, stout man walked toward him boldly. "So, what do you know? Because I am still in the dark." He challenged.

"All we found was a lot of ash." The Sheriff lied. "And a few of her trinkets." He added with a smirk.

"No evidence she was inside there?" Hamon asked.

"Well, if she was, she is no more." The Sheriff said noncommittally.

"You do not know." Hamon sighed shaking his head.

"Well, she wasn't there to greet us when we went to check, no." The Sheriff grinned. His two senty stifled their guffaws.

"No word from her. No word from you." Hamon said. "It is not like my sister to just disappear. We have always remained in contact."

"How positively touching." The Sheriff said sarcastically.

"You didn't bother to look, did you?" Hamon challenged.

The Sheriff shook his head. "You try my patience!" He spat. "Accidents do happen. Or have you forgotten?"

"A home just doesn't burn to the ground by itself. Someone caused it." The man replied accusingly.

"Indeed!" The Sheriff said through his clenched jaw. He advanced toward him and grabbed him by the collar. "And perhaps – your sister caused the home to burn!"

"No. No, she couldn't have!" Hamon said shaking his head.

"You didn't know." The Sheriff taunted. His eyes narrowed as he burned them into the unfortunate looking man's eyes.

"Know what?" Hamon asked, curiously.

"Your dear…darling sister…was a witch!" The Sheriff hissed, his eyebrow raised as he glared at the man.

"No. Impossible!" Hamon said, incredulous.

The Sheriff let go of him, and pushed him aside. He slowly walked away. He went toward a desk near the window and opened a drawer. Inside was the chain that Guy had found in her home and brought to the Sheriff's attention the same day that Lady Rhiannon fell ill in July. He picked it up and smiled. He walked slowly toward the insufferable man. When he was only inches away from him, he held up his hand, and suddenly, the large shiny silver pentagram fell dangling upon the chain as the Sheriff waved it in front of him.

"We did find this, among other curious items amongst the ruins of your dear hearts sister's home." The Sheriff snarled.

"No." Hamon said softly, shaking his head. "Not Hestia."

"She died exactly the way she was meant to if she was indeed inside there." The Sheriff said evenly. "And if she didn't – I warn you that if you are found to be harbouring her and aiding her in any way, that you could burn along with her! For now we have proof. Your sister was indeed a witch. And if she isn't dead, then she will be dead. I already spoke to Bishop of Hereford about the matter when we found this pentagram medallion, not to mention the other items. Hmm… what were they again?" The Sheriff taunted as he stroked his chin and looked up thoughtfully. "Oh, yes – jars and bottles of potions, the remains of a book of shadows, and a curious double edged dagger!"

"How do I know you didn't plant them there, before you burned down my sister's home?" Hamon challenged.

The Sheriff swiftly grabbed him roughly by his collar again. "You insolent fool!" The Sheriff barked. "I'd hold your tongue if I were you. For you've picked the wrong Sheriff to play games with. I can easily arrange for the removal of your lying tongue!"

Hamon swallowed dryly.

"And if I find out you've been spreading your lies as you did that day when I first had the displeasure of looking upon you, then believe me….it shall be done!" The Sheriff hissed.

Hamon looked away. The Sheriff grabbed his chin and forced him to look at him.

"Do I make myself clear?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Yes, my lord." Hamon replied weakly.

"Now go! Get out of my sight. And consider yourself warned. Next time there won't be a discussion. Because I'll be happy to remove that worthless appendage of yours…personally!" The Sheriff sneered.

The man only looked at him briefly, then began to make his way out of the room.

"Oh, one more thing." The Sheriff called to him.

Master Hamon turned around to face him.

"Don't think I won't find you just because you don't live in Nottingham." The Sheriff said. "For if you keep this up with your lies about me causing her home to burn – I know where you live. My Scribe has your address – Portsmouth isn't it?" The Sheriff remarked pointedly with his eyebrow raised. For he remembered the Scribe telling him. His reason for asking the man to leave an address was for insurance against a situation such as this.

"Yes." Hamon replied weakly.

"This was your warning. You only get one." The Sheriff seethed.

The man nodded and went on his way. After he left, the Sheriff turned to one of the guards.

"Have my page summon Bishop of Hereford for me." He ordered.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I'm so pleased you came to visit me." Lady Rhiannon said to Madam Oberon.

"I was shocked, mon cher, and worried." Madam Oberon said.

"Yes. I suppose I'm lucky to be alive." Rhiannon mused. She shuddered.

"Oui." Madam Oberon agreed.

"How is my wedding gown coming along?" Rhiannon asked.

"Tres bien. Votre robe est magnifique!" Madam Oberon replied in french without thinking.

Lady Rhiannon looked at her curiously.

"Oui. Your gown shall be beautiful, mon cher." Madam Oberon said as she sipped her brandy.

Rhiannon smiled. "I thank you, Madam Oberon. For it's one less thing for me to worry about. What you did with Lady Meridwyn's gown, why, it was perfect! I'd never seen such a beautiful gown." Rhiannon smiled. Would that her gown be such a vision. A sight her lover would never forget.

"Merci, mon cher. And you – well, vous devez etre une belle mariee!"

"Pardon, Madam Oberon?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

"Oh, oui. Forgive me, Mademoiselle. You shall be a beautiful bride." Madam Oberon smiled.

"I hope so." Rhiannon said quietly.

"Mon cher, do no worry. Everything will come together."

"It's difficult to imagine…how I shall feel by then." Lady Rhiannon said.

"There is still time, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. But for now, do not worry about your gown. I promised you a beautiful gown, and I am pleased with it thus far." Madam Oberon reassured.

"Forgive me, Madam Oberon. I don't mean to be negative. It's just that – well, there is pain and I still haven't gained my strength back. Sometimes it frustrates me – I am so angry at her!" Rhiannon snapped. She arose from the sofa and walked toward the table in the room. She picked up a pitcher of water and poured some into a goblet. She felt pain in her right side and held it with her left hand. She could bear it however – it wasn't as intense as it had been in the days previous.

"Mademoiselle Marian, you mean?" Madam Oberon asked.

"Yes." Rhiannon replied as she sipped some of the water.

"And you have every right to be, mon cher. But, perhaps if you concentrated on your wedding it would help your recovery. T'would be better than focusing on your anger. For despite her actions, you were spared."

"You are very wise, Madam Oberon. And good of you to remind me of what is important." Rhiannon said.

"You already knew it, mon cher. You would have thought of it on your own eventually." Madam Oberon smiled.

It pleased Lady Rhiannon that the kind woman took an interest in her. She was finding herself to be growing very fond of the dressmaker. For she genuinely seemed concerned for her welfare. In the far reaching corners of Rhiannon's mind, she wondered if this is what it would feel like to have a mother? For she didn't know. The idea of it was so foreign to her that she couldn't help but wonder. She was not granted an earthly mother for longer than a brief interval after her own birth. She was never to be held by her, or afforded the opportunity to even nurse life from her bosom just once. Her friend Meridwyn had oft times spoke of her mother. Rhiannon would listen to her stories wistfully, secretly envious of her friend. She wondered if Guy and George were ever secretly envious as well? And then she wondered – is this the cause of my hesitation to become a mother myself? For who would teach her? Meridwyn would remind her that the bond would be instinctive. But it was easy for Lady Gisborne, for she had a mother to learn from.

"Yes. I suppose you're right. It is not easy to think clearly when the pain has shifted my focus. But I shall now attempt to shift my focus from the pain." Rhiannon said resolutely.

Madam Oberon smiled at her, once again lifting the silver goblet to her lips to taste the brandy. She was poised and as always – elegant. Rhiannon observed her. Arianna Oberon had a quiet grace about her. And a winning simplicity. She was always beautifully clothed, her gowns created by her own hand. She had a natural instinct for superb taste. From her manner of dress to the way she carried herself. Even the timbre of her voice – soft and melodic. She was always calm. She was trustworthy, and astute. And as Rhiannon watched her, she suddenly had an idea come to her. She would need to speak to her betrothed about it before she made the request of Madam Oberon. In the meantime, she could extend her gratitude in another small way.

"Madam Oberon, you have been kind and gracious to me from the moment we met. I know the opportunity was snatched from you to attend Lady Gisborne's wedding. For my Lord Sheriff figured out how Lady Marian was granted entrance to the castle that day. Her invitation was meant for you." Rhiannon began.

"Merci, mon cher. It is kind of you to say, but you forget – I've known your betrothed for many years, but we became better acquainted in the last two. It would not serve me well to treat Mon Seigneur Sheriff's Mademoiselle with anything but the kindest respect." Madam Oberon replied modestly.

"Ah, but your words and deeds were not postured or performed perfunctorily. They were genuine. Now – if I am well enough for the marriage to take place on the day it has been planned for, it is my deepest wish to have you there to celebrate it with me. I think my lord would be pleased as well. Will you consider it, Madam?" Rhiannon asked.

"Oui, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. Je serais heureux." Madam Oberon nodded.

"Madam Oberon?" Rhiannon said curiously with her eyes narrowed.

"Forgive me, mon cher. I would be pleased." Madam Oberon smiled as she squeezed Rhiannon's hand.

Rhiannon smiled. "Tres bien!" She found herself saying. For she was slowly picking up on the beautiful language.

She had no idea her lover had been standing there discreetly in the doorway. He entered the room quietly about ten minutes prior. He was so fascinated by their rapport, he hated to interrupt. But at the same time, even though he knew he was a quiet intruder, he couldn't bring himself to leave. His lady was truly engaged in her discussion with the seamstress. The most animated he'd seen her in awhile. He smiled. Then he cleared his throat.

"My ladies." He spoke softly.

Rhiannon turned her head, and Madam Oberon stood and made obeisance.

The Sheriff motioned for Madam Oberon to sit.

"My lord, I hope it pleases you, I have just invited Madam Oberon to our wedding." Rhiannon said.

He walked toward her and bent down to kiss her forehead.

"Of course it pleases me, my angel." The Sheriff said.

Madam Oberon smiled at their exchange. One glance and she knew it, for it was quite apparent – the Sheriff was deeply in love. She had never seen him like this in all the time she knew him. It pleased her.

"I should be going." Madam Oberon said.

"No. Stay a little longer, sil vous plait!" Rhiannon said. She managed to impress both her guest and her lover with her understanding of French.

"You're a quick study, I can see that, mon cher, but we must work on your accent!" Madam Oberon smiled with a knowing wink.

The Sheriff chuckled. "Indeed she is, Lady Arianna." He smiled.

"I find your language fascinating, Madam Oberon. I hope to learn more from you. For if I shall be wife to the Sheriff of Nottingham, it will serve me well, and perhaps him too, if I could become fluent in another language besides my mother tongue." Rhiannon said.

"I shall be happy to teach you, mon cher." Madam Oberon said.

"I do not mean to interrupt your visit, my lady." The Sheriff said to Rhiannon. "I merely came to see how you are faring, if you need anything?" The Sheriff explained.

"I feel better than I have in awhile, my lord." Rhiannon said. She knew he was really asking her, did she require her medicine to manage pain. "But, my lord – I wonder if I could speak to you for just a moment." Rhiannon said.

"Of course." The Sheriff agreed.

Rhiannon stood and turned to Madam Oberon. "Please stay. For I wish to speak with you further. I shall only be a moment – je vous le promets." She added, remembering the meaning of the phrase.

"If it is your wish, Mademoiselle, I shall remain waiting for you."

"Good." Lady Rhiannon said. She looked to the Sheriff and motioned for him to follow her to the private chamber. He offered his arm to her and she took it willingly.

Once inside the private chamber, he quietly closed the door.

"What is it, my lady? Are you unwell?" The Sheriff asked in concern.

"No, my love. I feel better than I have in days. The visit with Madam Oberon has been a godsend. And she is the matter I wish to speak to you about." Rhiannon replied.

The Sheriff's curiousity was suddenly aroused. "What is it?" He asked.

"Did you notice her gown?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

The Sheriff was suddenly perplexed. Was she confused? "Uh…well, I think she looks grand as usual, but I did not pay attention to the details of it, I'm afraid. But if you had been wearing it – " He was cut off.

"It is exquisite. You know that she makes all of her own gowns? You saw Lady Gisborne's wedding gown. It was very finely crafted, and created in just a short span of time!" Rhiannon exclaimed excitedly.

"Indeed. But what does this have to do with – " Once again, he couldn't get the words out fast enough.

"I don't mean to be presumptuous, for I know not of the proprieties entailed to being your wife. But I wonder – is it appropriate for the wife of a Sheriff to employ a wardrobe mistress?" Rhiannon asked.

The Sheriff smiled. He stroked her cheek lightly with his palm. "I'm hard pressed to deny you any of your desires, my angel. If that is your wish, you have my consent. I do not know if other Sheriff's wives have done this. Frankly, I do not care. I trust Lady Arianna. And if you wish for her to be keeper of your wardrobe, and if she agrees, then I'm happy to employ her for you." The Sheriff smiled.

Rhiannon threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. "Thank you, my lord. You have made me happy." She smiled.

"You had best speak to her then. For you've kept her waiting." The Sheriff reminded her.

He took her back out into the den. He offered both of them a top up of the tincture of rapture. Lady Rhiannon seated herself beside her friend. Madam Oberon took a sip of the soothing brandy.

"Madam Oberon, I have a request of you." Lady Rhiannon began.

"Oui, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. Concerning your gown, you mean? I have chosen the exact fabric you specified in our earliest discussion of it. Your requests have been met." Madam Oberon stated.

"No. It is not just one gown I need you for. I have something more grand in mind than that." Lady Rhiannon hinted.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est, Mademoiselle?" Madam Oberon asked.

"In ten days time, I shall become the Sheriff's wife. I need to be presentable at all times, for all occasions. And you have proven to be an expert in your field. I wonder if you would be interested in serving me as my wardrobe mistress?" Lady Rhiannon proposed.

"Oh, mon cher. I am flattered you hold such confidence in me." Madam Oberon said.

"Will you consider it?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

"I warn you, Lady Arianna, my lady is not easily dissuaded. When she makes her mind up, she can be very persistent." The Sheriff added with a knowing grin.

Madam Oberon looked at both of them, overwhelmed by the offer. She took a few moments to digest it, because she was taken by surprise. Finally, she spoke. She looked to Lady Rhiannon and reached out to take both of her hands in hers.

"If you would deem me worthy, Mademoiselle, I shall gratefully accept." Madam Oberon said.

"I thank you, Madam Oberon." Lady Rhiannon smiled. "You shall work exclusively for me, and one other if she wishes to employ you as well." She added.

Madam Oberon and the Sheriff looked at her curiously.

"If she will have you – which I am certain she will, I'd like you to make yourself available to Lady Gisborne as well. For she is the Lieutenant's wife, and a dear friend. Indeed, she is as much a sister to me as if we shared the same blood." Lady Rhiannon said.

"If it is her wish, I shall honour it." Madam Oberon said.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later in the afternoon, the Sheriff received Bishop of Hereford in the Council Quarters.

"You wished to speak with me, my lord Sheriff?" Bishop Hereford asked.

"Yes." The Sheriff said. He had already thought earlier on what he would say to him. The Sheriff stood and slowly walked toward him.

"A little over a month ago, my cousin and I had to carry out an unpleasant task. The sister of a former acquaintance of mine was found to be engaged in treacherous acts. We had to take care of the matter quietly, and discreetly." The Sheriff said as he raised his left eyebrow and shot a knowing glance at the Bishop.

"Yes, my lord?" The Bishop swallowed. Had the Sheriff and his Lieutenant resorted to their old ways?

The Sheriff sensed his discomfiture. "It had to be done, Bishop. I say to you now that she is the first we….disposed of – in three years time." A beat. "It was necessary." The Sheriff said adamantly.

"Indeed." Bishop Hereford remarked absently.

The Sheriff began to pace and clasped his hands together. "In the course of our investigation, we found out she was a witch." The Sheriff said, stopping to look upon the Bishop.

"You have proof?" The Bishop asked. Even though he knew the point was moot – for she was dead – he asked anyway.

The Sheriff walked back toward him and reached into his pocket, he extracted the shiny silver pentagram from within. He had pocketed it after his meeting with Hestia's brother.

"Here is your proof!" The Sheriff said as he dangled it in front of the Bishop's face.

"Yes." The Bishop said quietly as he looked at it, then back to the Sheriff.

"We also found out that her sister, my former acquaintance – was also a witch. Alas, she died at the hands of the murderer who abducted and killed several maidens in Nottingham and two other counties. Her judgement was delivered by another means." The Sheriff said.

"My lord, forgive me, if both of them are dead, what does this matter concern me now?" The Bishop asked rather bewildered.

"They have a brother. He came to see me today. He is proving to be as much a nuisance as a buzzing fly! Two members of his family were proven to be a witch. The odds are in his favour then, that he is one too." The Sheriff hinted with his eyebrow raised, as he slipped the pentagram back into his pocket.

"I see." Bishop Hereford said as he finally understood. "Who is he?"

"His name is Hamon, he lives in Portsmouth." The Sheriff replied in disgust. Even the mention of his name caused revulsion in him.

"I do hope you're wrong with your prediction, my lord. I loathe these heresy trials!" The Bishop sighed.

"Indeed." The Sheriff said. "An odious task, but alas, I must find out. My top two investigators are away at the moment. I'm not aware as yet when Duke Farnsworth will return from his mission in the north, but Gisborne shall be returning soon from his get away with Lady Gisborne. I will ask him to investigate it. But in the meantime, I thought it best to bade you warning of the matter. For if the man is indeed found to be a witch – I shall turn him over to you." The Sheriff said.

"A wise decision, my son." The Bishop said.

"That's what I thought you'd say." The Sheriff smiled knowingly. "For nothing I can deliver to him in judgement will be nearly as painful as burning at the stake." He grinned. Oh yes, Hamon. You picked the wrong Sheriff to play games with...indeed! He thought to himself.