Following the meeting with the mysterious raven haired lady from Derbyshire, the Sheriff and his Lieutenant were speaking in the hall outside of the Council Quarters when Luke suddenly approached them.

"Well, don't you look shiny and bright, lad!" Gisborne remarked.

"Yes." Luke replied modestly.

"What's going on, Luke?" Nottingham asked.

"Milord Sheriff, forgive me for interrupting so late in the day. I've a matter to report."

"Right. Well, there's several pairs of ears lurking about here. Should we head into the Council Quarters?" he asked.

"It's probably best, Milord." Luke nodded.

The Sheriff turned and led them both into the meeting room. They followed him inside and he closed the doors.

"Alright, Luke. What is this matter you wish to report?"

"That lady you just met with, Milord." Luke began.

"Yes. We both did, Luke. What of her?"

"I just found her in back of the castle. A rather odd place for a stranger to be, don't you think?"

"Yes. Very. What was she doing there?" Nottingham asked with his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"She was speaking to Mortianna, standing awfully close to her." Luke said.

"How very odd." Guy remarked.

"More than a little odd, Gis. Suspicious is more like it." the Sheriff said. He turned back to Luke. "Before we go any further, what prompted you to go back there, Luke?"

"A patrol around the castle perimeter, Milord Sheriff." Luke answered, matter of factly.

"Interesting. Since when are we doing that?" Nottingham asked with his eyes narrowed.

"Well, officially, you're not… I suppose. But, unofficially, I took it upon myself to start this awhile ago. Maybe a month or two? Whenever I was stationed at the portcullis. No one was doing it, Milord. Everyone is just posted at specific locations. With Adam and Drake at the portcullis, I go for a walkabout with my bow in hand and sword at the ready. I figured it couldn't hurt. I… hope that is acceptable, Milord." Luke nodded then looked downcast.

"It is, lad. Good thinking." Nottingham said. He looked to his cousin next. "You see, Gis? What have I always said about gut instinct?"

"It's never wrong." Guy sighed.

"I knew in my gut the day I hired him that Luke was right for this position. Gut instinct. Never wrong." he grinned, then cleared his throat. He looked back over to Luke. "Right. What did Mortianna have to say about this encounter?"

"She mentioned something about the lady being threatening. I didn't witness that myself, but, Mortianna seemed a bit rattled. I don't know what was said between them. I just reminded the lady she had no business lurking about the property, especially in back of it, and led her back to the portcullis where her horse was secured. Now, I don't think I handled it in the best way." Luke admitted.

"Why do you say that, Luke?" Nottingham asked curiously.

"I should have escorted her back inside to answer to you, Milord."

"I need to know more to determine that." he said as he walked toward the table. He poured some water into a goblet, took a sip, then whirled around to face him. "Did you see her threatening Mortianna?" Nottingham pressed.

"No. She was standing very close to her, and I didn't hear the words that were exchanged between them."

"Hmm." Nottingham muttered as he began to pace.

"What are you thinking, Cousin?" Guy asked.

"I'm thinking there's something strange about the lady. You saw how unabashed she was with us." he said as he stopped and turned toward them.

"Rather overconfident, I would say." Guy agreed.

"I'm not being funny, but, I would agree. I've never seen Mortianna… shaken like that. I should have checked on her after I escorted the lady away." Luke said, shaking his head.

"Is there anything else about the woman you can tell us, Luke?" the Sheriff asked.

"She just appeared out of nowhere. None of us had seen her before. We tried to deter her from seeing you, but she was insistent, and quite persuasive with her… charms. Especially toward Drake. It was like she was — "

"Let me guess. She was flirting with him?" Guy suggested.

"Well… yes. At least, that's how it appeared to Adam and myself, Sir Gisborne." Luke sighed.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but, this isn't the first time that has happened, is it?" Nottingham asked.

"No, Milord." Luke said. "Lady Marian took a shine to him, too."

Nottingham closed his eyes and shook his head.

"They always fall for Drake, Cousin. You know this. Before him, it was Nigel, and Gerad." Guy chuckled.

"Interesting. I wonder why?" the Sheriff mused.

"Well, I would imagine it's because he sort of resembles a younger version of… yourself, Milord Sheriff?" Luke guessed.

"Really, Luke? Not hardly. He has longish straight hair, and… brown eyes, I think." Guy said with a pensive narrowing of his eyes.

"Yes, he does; but, he's tall. And even though he's rather… muscled, he has a sort of charisma about him." Luke answered. Then he looked to the Sheriff and added, "Rather like yourself, Milord."

"You think I'm charismatic, Luke? Interesting. Don't think anyone has ever characterized me as such." Nottingham said. He cleared his throat. "Right. Take me back to the beginning when she approached you. What exactly was it about her that made you think she was flirtatious with Drake?"

"She was clearly getting nowhere with myself and Adam, so she turned her attention to Drake and laid the charm on rather thick. She commented how big and strong he is, batted her ridiculously long eyelashes, stared him straight in the eye and then insisted she must see you immediately. So, Drake relented, and we agreed. We needed to appear united, Milord. If we openly disagreed with each other, I had a feeling she'd take advantage of that." Luke explained.

"A wise move, Luke." Nottingham agreed.

"Should I go looking for the woman and bring her back to explain herself, Milord?" Luke suggested.

"No. We haven't seen the last of the woman. I'm sure of it. You were right to report this to me. Be on the lookout for her should she return, though."

"Very well, Milord. Shall I check in on Mortianna?"

"No. That's fine, Luke. I shall speak to her about her encounter with the woman." he said. "In the meantime, tell your mates that there will be a meeting tomorrow with the Prince. You three shall need to get men to cover you when the meeting occurs. It will most likely be in the afternoon."

"Very well. I will convey that and we will arrange relief for that time, Milord. I shall return to my post." Luke said.

"Luke?" he asked.

"Yes, Milord?"

"As long as you're satisfied with the performance of the relief guards, have them cover you and your comrades tomorrow evening, as well. I think you lads deserve a reprieve. Zeus knows you might need it after tomorrow's meeting with the Prince." Nottingham sighed.

"I'll talk to them about that. It's usually Emory and Castor who relieve us or cover opposite shifts. They're quite good. Is there an important matter we'll be discussing at the meeting, Milord Sheriff?" Luke asked, curiously.

"No. It's an informal meeting. You may need a reprieve because — "

"The uhh… bloke is rather exhausting at times. The Prince, I mean." Gisborne added.

"Ah. I see. Very well." Luke grinned. Then he looked to his employer. "Thank you, Milord. I'm sure Drake and Adam would enjoy a reprieve. I shall just need to run it by Emory and Castor." he nodded.

"Good. Just one more thing, lad." the Sheriff said.

"Yes, Milord?"

"Continue with your patrols around the castle. I'll leave you in charge of that. If you need a break from it, assign someone whom you deem capable."

"As you wish, Milord Sheriff. It shall be done." Luke nodded then took his leave.

In moments, Nottingham and his right hand man were alone in the meeting chamber. The Sheriff moved to the table to top up the water in his goblet, then sipped it while he contemplated his next move.

"You want me to go looking for her, Cousin? I've nothing planned except for sharpening the blade of my sword with a whetstone." Guy suggested.

"Not yet. I need more information before I decide how to handle this." Nottingham said as he put the goblet back on the table.

"Very well. I'll be in my chambers should you need me." Guy nodded.

Later, Nottingham stared at the sediment in the metal cup before him. Was it the whole wing or only parts of the wing that she used to dry and then grind to brew the tea? He wondered. He was surprised somewhat to be contemplating such a matter, but it was a distraction from the thoughts that threatened to swirl. The smell of the curious potion brewing in the cauldron nearby, a purple haze wafting through the air about it lulled his senses into a place he was unfamiliar with. What was brewing in that cauldron? Surely not the batwing tea? There was never a coloured haze from the tea steeping. He shook his head and looked up and across to the witch seated across from him at the small table in her apothecary.

"Perhaps ye should refrain from the tea for now, Milord. The effect on you is palpable." she said.

"Never mind that. Tell me again about the encounter with the raven haired lady from the north." he demanded.

"I was taken by surprise. I've had an arrangement with your gardener for some time, as ye know. I've a secluded spot where I grow my herbs and flowers — "

"Yes. The point, Madam!" Nottingham urged, slightly exasperated.

"I had collected nightshade plants and was returning to the rear entrance of the castle when the lady appeared before me, blocking my path. Most surprising indeed to see a stranger roaming about the back property at that time of day, Milord." Mortianna explained.

"Luke reported that you mentioned she was threatening. In what way?" he pressed.

"She knew the plant, Milord. Recognized it immediately. Most ordinary people are unfamiliar with it, and would never describe the distinctive shape of the flower petals as she had. Most people would say the flowers look like stars. She commented the flowers are shaped like pentacles. She was most interested in obtaining them, Milord Sheriff."

"How interested?" he asked as he sat back in the chair, folding his arms and maintaining a piercing gaze into her good eye.

"She offered gold to purchase them, knowing full well the power of the plant." she reported.

"What kind of power, Madam? I admit I know very little of nightshade. It's not something a traditional medicus would generally offer."

"It's belladonna. Also known as the Devil's root. It has a variety of medicinal properties if used correctly; thus, it is used by some physicians. In the wrong hands it is a powerful and dangerous poison, Milord — with fatal results."

"I see." he sighed. He arose from his seat and paced a bit. Then he whirled around to face her. "So, how was she threatening, besides her obvious trespassing?"

"When I attempted to pass her she grabbed my arm. That was when she insisted I tell her my price for the nightshade. I told her it was not for sale." a beat. "She is a witch, Milord."

"Is that what she told you?" he asked as his left eyebrow shot north.

"No. She didn't say it directly, but it was implied."

"Tell me how." he insisted.

"The knowledge she has of the plant. She knew the flowers only open at night. She commented on the potency, the toxicity, the other names for nightshade, and pointed out that I was wearing gloves while handling them. Only people who are familiar with the plant would know to wear gloves when handling it. And, this was after a particular comment that cemented my opinion of her nature." the witch hinted.

"What comment was that?"

"She said: I know a witch when I see one. And, I know one when I see one, too, Milord. The lady is definitely a witch."

Nottingham shook his head and sighed. He had guessed as much from the particular phrasing the woman had used.

"Anything else you can tell me?"

"Yes. She looked oddly familiar to me, but I'm not sure how. I was trying to figure that out when you came to see me." Mortianna said.

"How strange, indeed. You don't recall seeing her about town?" he asked.

"I don't normally venture about town, Milord, except on the occasions where I visit the Merchant of Magick's discreet shop."

"Ah, yes. The former Friar turned sorcerer, mage, or some such nonsense." Nottingham scoffed with a shake of his head.

"Not quite a sorcerer, but one who is knowledgeable in the dark arts. Yes, you get the idea." she said as she took a sip of the batwing tea.

"You sure you'd never seen her there, Mortianna?"

"Yes. The Friar books his appointments completely separate from one another. Discretion is key, you see." she explained.

"Naturally." he sighed.

"Perhaps, if you could tell me something about her I'm not aware of, it would help me to identify where I've possibly seen her, Milord Sheriff?" she suggested.

"Have you ever been to Derbyshire, Madam?" he asked.

"Not in many, many moons, child. Is that where she came from?"

"So she said." Nottingham huffed.

"I just know her face is familiar to me. I wish I could identify how. Unless I saw her in dreams… " she muttered.

That sparked a memory in him. He stood firm and looked into her eyes.

"She was looking for the consort — the one who tried to poison me." Nottingham said. He had a hunch and hoped it would help the witch with her memory.

"The dark haired maiden who was obsessed with you, Milord?"

"Yes. The one and only."

"That's it! That's where I've seen her, Milord. In a vision. She was the one who was helping the consort in her quest to appear with child in order to trick you." Mortianna said confidently.

"You're sure?" he asked, narrowing his eyes upon her.

"Yes. Now, I am very sure."

"Is the raven haired witch related in any way to the consort, Madam?"

"Milord?"

"The woman said the consort was her niece."

"That I cannot comment on. I mostly saw images in the vision. Many of the words were unclear."

"That's fine. I was more curious. Their relationship is immaterial. The woman is suspicious, and now, a confirmed witch. For that, she warrants investigation. If you see her in any other visions, or in person, you shall inform me."

"Very well, Milord. And, what of the consort? Did you take care of the matter?"

"I did, Madam." the Sheriff smirked.

Mortianna nodded.

"You mentioned there are a number of uses for the plant you were collecting."

"Belladonna, Milord." she said.

"Anything that would be of use for me and my men?" he asked.

"Actually, yes. I've been working on something for you. It would be of interest to you and possibly your Blacksmith."

"Interesting." Nottingham remarked.

"Perhaps you could bring him by sometime and we could discuss it, Milord? It's best we keep the meeting discreet, which is why I suggest we meet here." Mortianna explained.

"Very well. I shall be interested to hear what you've been labouring on, Madam. I'll speak to Robert about it. Perhaps we shall come by on the morrow following the meeting with Prince John. Should I bring Guy?"

"Yes, That sounds fine, Milord. You may want to bring your Captain, as well." Mortianna suggested.

"I see." Nottingham said as he paused a moment. "I'm very intrigued to hear your proposal. Zeus knows we could use a little help, what with a conniving prisoner in the dungeon, and a brazen northern witch running amuck in the Village." he sighed.

"Indeed, Milord Sheriff. You need an edge to your methods. I think I finally have something for you that will serve you well."

"Hmm. So would the Byzantine fire you've been labouring on for years." he sneered.

"And I'm still working on that. Patience, Milord. It is coming." Mortianna smiled.

"Let us hope. Good thing we're not at war." he sighed, shook his head, then took his leave.

Not long after when he noticed the absence of Lady Rhiannon from the private chambers, and confirming with the sentry she had not yet returned, the Sheriff decided to take a walk to see if he could find her. It was getting late, and he couldn't imagine what could possibly be detaining her.

Gisborne came across Robert Wordsworth as he approached the rear entrance of the castle on the main floor. He had a hunch that the ladies had went out into the gardens. He wondered if Robert had the same idea?

"Good even, Sir Gisborne. I thought you'd be occupied?" Robert said.

"I was. Now that I'm finished I thought I'd take a walk through the gardens to see — "

"If you can find your wife? That was my intent, too. My sister doesn't stick to normal activities most suited to maidens. Sometimes I fear she's a… an unfavourable influence on your wife… and mine, to be quite frank." Robert sighed.

"She does seem to have an unmoving mind of her own, doesn't she? I've wondered if that's what has kept her… alive." Guy said softly.

"I thank you for being there for her when she needed help. I don't think I've ever told you that before. I know you were there when Rhiannon was found several months ago." Robert whispered.

"Yes. It was a precarious moment in time. I'd never actually met her before that day. I saw her in the cathedral the day they met. He was asking if I knew whom the fair maiden was whom caught his attention, you see. I knew of her, but had never spoken with her. She… changed him, Robert.

"He was already quite different than the Sheriff you knew when you were… associated with Hood." Guy added. He swallowed dryly as he continued. "We both changed. But, after he met her, then lost her, I saw a resolve in him I hadn't seen before."

"I'm beginning to believe it, Sir Gisborne. I'll give credit where it's due. He's the best one to handle her. In some ways I think they're alike."

"I would agree." Guy smirked.

"Have you heard anything about how our nephew is doing?" Robert blurted.

"Last I heard he was doing quite well. Now that you mention it, my cousin hasn't raised the topic in days. There's been a full schedule of matters ongoing, though. The wee lad is in good hands with Lady Margaret, and two of the Sheriff's men are stationed there, as well, as you know."

"I might ask him if he'd mind if my wife and I have a visit with him. It's been awhile and we're both quite fond of him. Although, I wonder if that would be wise. Isabelle grew… rather attached to him." Robert admitted quietly.

"I imagine that's natural. He's your blood, after all." Guy said.

"And yours, as well." Robert smiled.

"Yes. In a sort of… remote way." he paused a moment, as he pushed the thought out of his head where he wished he was really the boy's uncle. Alas, it will never be that way. Perhaps when he's older we can explain how his father and I are actually cousins, not brothers; even though we've felt like brothers all of my life…

"Sir Gisborne?"

"Forgive me. I was just thinking about him. Such a fine lad, and a perfect mix of his parents. I see both of them in the boy." Gisborne said.

"Yes. I also see another in him." Robert hinted.

Guy looked at him curiously, his eyebrow raised over his dark eyes.

"Just another family resemblance, Sir Gisborne. I see my late brother in him, too. Except for his dark hair, his face is very much like my brother's was at almost the same age. My brother had the same curls, too. It's… a bit jarring at times. Bittersweet would be a better word." Robert explained.

"I can imagine. How great that your brother can live on through our nephew. I'd like to visit him again, too, but I think Lady Rhiannon will understand once she knows, that you and your wife went to see him…better than me visiting. It's probably best if less of us see him before she can." a beat. "It also saves me lying to my wife about my whereabouts." he sighed.

"She doesn't know — at all?" Robert asked.

"No. There's only a select few who do. Those who were sent to look for him, the ones guarding him, Lady Margaret, Mortianna, Thomas, his father, and… us." Guy said, softly.

"I still have trouble with her lack of recall. It's quite bizarre." Robert remarked.

"I used to think that, too. Sometimes, I still struggle to understand. However, she has endured a… lot."

"Yes. He has told me the same thing." Robert agreed. He sighed. "Well, there's no time like the present. Shall we look for our wives, and my sister, together?"

"Aye. I hope they're not too — " Guy stopped abruptly when he noticed whom was walking toward them.

He found his Lieutenant and Blacksmith/Advisor standing near the doors of the rear entrance of the castle. They stopped speaking amongst themselves and turned toward him as he drew closer.

"Hope I'm not interrupting. You two seemed deep in discussion." Nottingham remarked.

"We were — " Guy was cut off.

"Nothing deep at all, Milord. Just wondering where our wives might be. We were just about to venture outside. Did Rhiannon find her way back?" Robert asked.

"No. I'm sure she's still with them. Although, I can't imagine why they'd be outside at this time."

"Agreed. Where were you, Cousin — if I may ask?" Guy asked.

"Meeting with Mortianna about the curious woman who met with us earlier. Which reminds me, we shall be meeting with her tomorrow following the meeting with Prince John. You two and the Captain shall accompany me for a meeting with her in her apothecary." the Sheriff announced.

"Sounds serious." Robert said.

"Not that serious, Robert. Routine." Nottingham smirked.

"Really? Is it routine for you and two of your top men to meet with Mortianna in her lair?" Robert retorted.

"No. She wishes to discuss something that will aid us. I'm assuming it has something to do with enhancements to our weaponry, since she suggested I bring you along." he said with a quirk of his brow.

"I see." Robert said.

"Sounds interesting." Guy grinned.

"Doesn't it?" he agreed. Then his eyes caught the scene unfolding beyond the two men, just behind them. He sighed. "Hmm. Also interesting is the group coming through the doors." Nottingham said as he nodded to the three ladies approaching them.

Guy and Robert turned around to see what the Sheriff was speaking about. The three of them couldn't help but notice their appearance, especially the skirt bottoms covered in dirt and stray bits of straw.

Nottingham's eyebrow shot north as he took in their appearance the closer they drew to him.

"What in the devil were you ladies doing? Wrestling in a barn?" Nottingham asked, suspiciously.

"Probably drunk." Guy smirked.

"Rhiannon and I are both with child. We were not, and are not drunk, Guy." Meridwyn admonished.

She wished she hadn't followed Rhiannon to the stables. She also wished she didn't know about her friend's plan to visit her manor in the coming days. The only good thing was Meridwyn didn't know which day.

Nottingham shook his head.

"Were you riding your horse, Rhiannon?" he asked.

"No, but I took a moment to check on her, and they came with me." she said nodding to Meridwyn and Isabelle.

"When you said you were stealing my wife away I thought you were going to the library, or the gardens, or maybe one of the private quarters." Robert said.

"To do what, Brother? Sew quilts? Idle gossip?" Rhiannon sighed.

"I thought you already checked on your horse, Sis? That's what you told the Prince."

"As if I would reveal the real reason my hair was dampened. To him — of all people." Rhiannon said as she folded her arms.

"Point taken." Robert muttered.

The Sheriff and Gisborne briefly looked at one another with knowing smirks on their faces.

"What good does it do to check on your horse in the dark?" Robert asked.

"Why not? You afraid of the dark, Brother dear?" a beat. "Why are you so boring?" she turned to Isabelle then. "Honestly, I don't know how you tolerate his dreariness sometimes. I swear, he's the most boring one in the whole family; although, I can't say what she was like." Rhiannon sighed.

"Mother was fiery — just like you." Robert said. He put his hand to his forehead for a moment, shook his head and sighed.

"Was she? Yes. So fiery she went out like a flame in the wind." Rhiannon sighed. "There's no reason to be alarmed we went outside after dark."

Meridwyn and Isabelle fidgeted and shot expressions of concern at one another.

"What are you talking about? It's not about that, it's about you ladies being safe." Robert scorned.

Nottingham and Gisborne looked away, in an effort to conceal their chuckling.

"For God's sake, Robert! Have you not noticed the guards posted everywhere in and around the castle? Even manning the portcullis? Rhiannon sighed.

Robert looked downcast and shifted in discomfiture. He did not wish to engage in a petty quarrel with his sister in front of company. He was grateful that his wife wasn't like this — argumentative. He sighed. More and more he was convinced that Nottingham was the best match for his sister. She certainly was a handful, in his opinion.

"It's alright, Robert. There's nothing to fret about." Isabelle said, trying to buffer their heated discussion.

"I, for one, am agreeing with Robert. Very peculiar timing to be checking on your horse, my dear." Nottingham remarked sternly to his betrothed.

"Perhaps. We weren't out there very long. It was just… a change in scenery." she said.

"I'll say! Not the most pleasant, either. The horses are fine, but the stables could've used a good cleaning." Meridwyn said as she wrinkled her nose.

"Indeed." Isabelle agreed. She caught the curious look from her husband then looked to the floor.

At this point Lady Meridwyn sighed and rolled her eyes.

The Sheriff was taking mental notes of the behaviours of Meridwyn and Isabelle. To him, Meridwyn appeared annoyed, and Isabelle was acting like she was hiding something. He wasn't sure what was going on, he couldn't put his finger on it, but it definitely was something worth thinking about.

Isabelle was feeling uncomfortable. She had never lied to her husband, but her sister in law was asking her to do it now. Rhiannon told her they would be leaving for the manor in the next few days. Except, Isabelle was expected to keep that information to herself. She hoped the outing would go off without a hitch, but she still felt uneasy keeping this secret.

Late Friday morning the Sheriff was in the Council Quarters making sure the table and chairs were polished by the servants, and speaking to one of them about the service required for the meeting with the Prince. Lady Rhiannon stepped in quietly through the doors. He turned toward her and approached her near the threshold.

"What is it, Rhiannon? Are you alright?" he asked as he gently held her arm.

"Yes, my love. All is well. I fear I'm interrupting you, however." she said.

"Not at all, my lady. Just making sure everything is in order for the meeting later with Prince John and my men. We do have an audience however as the servants are keeping busy." he said as he nodded in their direction.

"Can you step away for a moment?"

"Of course." he smiled as he led her out of the meeting room. They began walking down the long corridor away from the flurry of activity of the staff.

"It's not that serious, but, I thought I should mention it to you first before I just go off on my own." she began.

The Sheriff stopped in his tracks and turned toward her with a curious quirk of his brow.

"Go off? And, where do you think you'll be going off to, my lady — unaccompanied?"

"No, not leaving the property. It's been a few days since I've practiced with the bow and arrows. I'd like to take an hour or two to do that." Rhiannon said.

"You know the Prince is coming, right?"

"Yes. He'll be in a meeting with you and your men; and that, quite frankly, has nothing to do with me."

"I suppose you're right about that." he softened.

"I don't particularly wish to see him. At all, if I'm being honest." Rhiannon whispered.

"I suppose I'm not surprised. However, he is a royal, my — "

"I don't give a fig who he is, or for his status, George. He is… creepy, to say the least. He was acting far too familiar with me, and doing so in your presence. He has no right to use terms of endearment with me, or make inappropriate comments of coming to visit his estate without you." a beat. "Must I endure that beastly character at our wedding celebrations, my love? No offence to you, but, he is… awful." Rhiannon sighed.

Nottingham looked into her eyes a few moments before replying. He knew she was right. He sensed her discomfiture with the Prince the evening before.

"I don't want to be anywhere near him, George." she whispered.

"Come, my lady." he said, offering his arm to her.

They turned and he led her to the staircase.

"Are you taking me to the private chambers? For God's sake — "

"No, my lady. Trust me." he smiled before leading her up the stairs.

She was confused as he wordlessly walked her down the corridor of the second floor. Then he stopped and turned toward her, making certain he wouldn't be heard by others.

"I believe you, Rhiannon, and I understand. Unfortunately, at this point I can't just disinvite him to our nuptials. I will do my best to keep him away from you on that day. I also gave him a warning last evening. For now, though, you shall have today's wish granted." he said.

She smiled at him wordlessly, and they continued a few more steps, stopping at the door of Madam Oberon's quarters.

Madam Oberon was surprised when she answered the knock.

"Ah, mon Seigneur Sheriff. Mademoiselle Rhiannon. What can I do for you?"

"My lady is going to venture outside, Lady Arianna. I believe you keep her leather garments here?"

"Oui, mon Seigneur Sheriff." she said, gesturing for them both to enter.

He looked to Rhiannon. She smiled up at him and discreetly mouthed the words "Thank you." He smiled back at her then turned back toward the seamstress.

At this point she questioned whether it was such a good idea to sneak off the property to check on her manor, completely going against her promise to adhere to his request that she stay put for now. She hated to lie to him. She sighed and looked downcast.

"I must get back, but my lady will need to change her clothes." he said.

"Very well." Madam Oberon said.

He kissed his lady's forehead before she stepped inside.

Sometime later the meeting with Prince John, the Sheriff and his men was well underway in the Council Quarters. The servants kept the libations flowing, and the table plentifully stocked with assorted breads, cheeses, ham, soup, nuts, fruit, and figs. It was more of an informal meeting to introduce the Prince to the Sheriff's best men. As a representative of the royal family he could report back to King Richard his assessment of the Sheriff's top men in his militia, and how he was managing them as well as his public.

This time the Sheriff was seated at one end of the table, and Prince John at the other end. The Sheriff was flanked by Gisborne on his right, the Captain on his left, with Robert seated to the right of the Lieutenant. Officers Mordrid and Luke were seated across from each other flanking the Prince, with Ancel seated to the left of Luke.

It was fairly relaxed and a good opportunity for some of the men who had never met the Prince to have this moment to dine with him, and become acquainted as he told tales of life in other lands, and discuss certain hobbies such as hunting, and gambling.

They drank of their ale, mead, brandy for the Sheriff, and low quality wine for the Prince, as they nibbled on the various foods before them on the table.

"It's good to see some familiar faces here, and I see many I've never met, as well." Prince John said.

"You wouldn't have had the occasion to meet most of them, Your Highness. In fairness, last time you visited us, we were kept rather busy." Nottingham said.

"I'll say!" Guy nodded as he took a sip of his mead.

"Ah, yes. A right busy time for sure, dear boy — what with Goody Two Boots and his ever growing parade of minions taking over the forest and the Village." Prince John sighed.

"I would have liked to have been part of that. All I know is through stories told, either from people who weren't here to witness it, or from my comrades in the Black Knights." Luke said.

"It was exciting, mate. Sure it was, but — " Adam was interrupted.

"It was also a royal pain in everyone's arse, to be quite frank." Gerad said.

"Agreed. God, I hate that forest." Alex remarked.

"Kept the dungeon quite busy, too, at times." Joseph muttered.

Robert looked down, staring into his goblet of mead.

"I must agree with Luke. I would've liked to have taken part in that take down, as well. In the south, the stories sounded more like myth than reality." Ancel said.

"That's precisely it, mate." Luke nodded. "It was the same in the north. Like folklore. Stories one would tell around a campfire."

"Exactly. The lines were so blurred when stories circulated it was hard to separate fact from fiction. After awhile I wasn't listening anymore." Ancel added.

"It was a challenging time in the shire, that is certain. I was not in the thick of it, however. Your Sheriff was a central figure then. He would be your best source of information should he be so inclined to share it." Prince John said.

At that comment both Luke and Ancel looked left toward Nottingham at the other end of the table.

"One day, perhaps I'll fill you in on some details. Suffice to say, the sorry oaf presented some problems for us. There were some interesting skirmishes which escalated to battle. One day, lads, but not today." the Sheriff said as he took a sip of brandy.

Both of them nodded in deference to him.

"Speaking of battle, how are you set for weapons, Milord Sheriff?" Prince John asked.

"My men and myself are well equipped, Your Highness." Nottingham nodded.

"Robert has a lot to do with that." Mordrid said.

"I'm sure. I have seen the finely forged swords, and armour." Prince John smiled.

Robert nodded his head, modestly. He had a fleeting inclination to mention the addition of the shields he and Stephanus were working on, but decided that was the Sheriff's decision to disclose.

"What about bows? Crossbows?" the Prince queried.

"Some of us carry bows, Your Highness. It depends on the comfort of the individual Knight." Mordrid added, looking to his left at the Prince.

"Yes, That is true. Mordrid is one who has always favoured the longbow, Your Highness." Duke Farnsworth said.

"And, crossbows?" Prince John asked again.

The Sheriff sighed before answering, except his cousin responded first.

"I haven't seen a crossbow used in three years. Last one who used that variety of weapon was — "

"Nichol Burgess." the Sheriff murmured. He picked up his goblet and paused a moment, looking at the table before sipping of the brandy.

"Was he a member of the Black Knights, Milord Sheriff?" Luke asked.

Those present at the table who hadn't met Nichol were relieved that Luke asked the question they wanted to. They didn't like to admit it, but they knew Luke was the favourite, and the Sheriff was less likely to be angered by the question coming from Luke.

"Before Duke Farnsworth, Nichol was the Captain of the Black Knights, and my Lead Investigator." he paused a moment then added softly, "A lifelong friend whom also served as counsel."

"He was a fine example and mentor to me, Your Lordship." Duke Farnsworth smiled.

"It's a shame he didn't teach you the ways of the crossbow, Christian. I've only recently become familiar with them. Quite effective." Prince John said.

The men were surprised to hear their Captain being addressed by his given name.

"He was very protective of it, Your Highness. No one but he was permitted to handle it." Duke Farnsworth said, sipping of his ale.

"I never liked crossbows myself." Mordrid added. "They take too long — "

"To load? Agreed! That's why I prefer a longbow, too. Either that or a sword." Luke said.

"If only they were faster. Like, if more than one arrow could be loaded into it and it could rapid fire — " Drake was interrupted.

"Automatically! That would be perfect." Adam smiled.

"Perhaps one day, likely far into the future someone will invent an automatic weapon. Each of you are skilled with your weapons of choice. Your skill with which you handle them matters more to me than the weapon itself." Nottingham said.

"Might be worth looking into, dear boy. They're quite efficient. Have you a bow craftsman available to you?" the Prince asked.

"There's one in the Village. Fingle is his name. When in need of a longbow, he is the one who crafts it for us." the Sheriff said.

"He might have a fair point, Cousin." Guy added.

"Perhaps, but no one could handle a crossbow as well as Nichol could." the Sheriff sighed.

"Indeed, Cousin." Guy said, softly.

"Milord? If I may, whatever happened to the former Captain of the Black Knights?" Alfred asked, tentatively.

Mordrid involuntarily held his breath even though he was about to take a sip of his mead. He was mentally chastising Alfred for daring to ask the question.

"He… died. During the incursion in the Village Square three years ago." a beat. "Locksley. Curses!" Nottingham spat.

"That damned Goody Two Boots! Indeed, my friend." Prince John agreed.

"Indeed." Nottingham seethed as he took another generous swig of brandy.

"And it's thanks to you we no longer have to deal with Hood's antics." Prince John added.

The Sheriff nodded wordlessly, hoping the conversation would turn soon from reminiscing over the past, which invariably reminded him of the loss of his friend.

"I have a question for you, Your Highness, if I may?" Adam asked.

"Very well. As long as it's not too personal, or regarding sensitive information." the Prince said.

"No, Your Highness. Just a general question."

Prince John nodded, encouraging him to proceed.

"Wouldn't you normally have someone taste your food and drink before partaking? In case of poisoning?" Adam asked. He realized how that sounded then looked to his Master. "Forgive me, Milord Sheriff. I don't mean to imply malice on your part."

"Understood." Nottingham said.

Adam looked back to the Prince. "I had heard that is generally done, Your Highness. I was just curious." he added.

"Normally, yes. That is absolutely, correct. In this situation it is different because George and I are friends. We've known each other for years. Trust has long been established, so I see no need for the added theatrics of it." Prince John responded.

"I see. Thank you, Your Highness." Adam said with a nod.

The Prince smiled then slowly straightened his expression. He looked around the table to everyone gathered and began to shake his head. He clicked his tongue against his palate for a few beats before managing to surprise them all with his next comment.

"My goodness, even with spirits on board, some of you are too stiff." Prince John suddenly quipped.

"Your Highness?" Nottingham asked with a curious quirk of his brow.

"You especially, friend. Do any of you ever relax?" the Prince asked as he looked around the table.

"With respect, Your Highness, we've had a number of pressing matters to attend to." Guy said.

"That is true." Duke Farnsworth nodded.

"I'll say." Ancel murmured.

"There hasn't been time for leisure in a long while." Mordrid said.

"We've a few squirrelly characters in the dungeon, as well. Indeed, all of us have a full plate." Joseph added.

"Better you than me, mate." Gerad quipped.

"Agreed, Gerad. I don't know how Joseph stands it, frankly." Alex said.

"It is my assigned duty… which I accept with honour" Joseph said, sipping of his ale.

"I hope you're not referring to our newest prisoner, Joseph?" Nottingham asked with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Oh, he is mostly quiet and cooperative, Milord. But, he does act a bit… squirrelish on occasion. He frequently asks to be unchained." Joseph said as he rolled his eyes.

"The fool!" Nottingham spat.

"George, dear boy. Why don't you round up a few of these men and accompany me on a stag hunt? Say, in two days time?" Prince John suggested.

"A stag hunt. On a Sunday?" Nottingham chuckled.

"What? Afraid to miss mass? Or, were you planning to spend the entire day dying of boredom in the cathedral? You don't need to be pious for the entire day. Some of you need a good distraction for a few hours. You — most of all!"

"That would certainly be a switch." Duke Farnsworth said.

"Indeed." Robert added.

"I shall need to think on that, Your Highness. My Lieutenant is right. There are certain matters that need attending to." Nottingham said.

"On a Sunday?" Prince John asked.

"Every day, Your Highness." he said, flatly.

"Do think about it, friend. You're wound up as tight as a harp string, and it's trickling down to some of your men. You need to just let it go for a few hours. Trust me."

"Perhaps. I shall take it under advisement." Nottingham said.

After the meeting, the men had dispersed, leaving Guy, the Duke, and Robert waiting in the Council Quarters for the Sheriff to return to them while he accompanied Prince John to the front entrance of the castle. He took a few moments to speak to the Prince, as the coachman, Bardolph, dutifully waited by the carriage.

"I had hoped to see your betrothed again before I headed out, friend." Prince John said.

"She is occupied with personal matters, Prince John. Our nuptials are fast approaching. She's been keeping busy with the planning." Nottingham said.

"How unusual. Have you not afforded her handmaidens or servants to assist her?"

Nottingham chuckled.

"My lady wouldn't hear of it. She might have a servant fill her bath for her, but she takes care of everything herself. She would hate to be waited on." he explained.

"Does my brother not provide enough for you to take care of such matters, friend?" Prince John asked, genuinely perplexed.

"It's not about that, friend. My lady is her own woman with an independent streak. She has no interest in being fussed over, especially by strangers."

"Rather strange for a lady about to be wed to an appointed official, don't you think? Not what one would expect of a noblewoman." Prince John said.

"No, it's not. But, it's her at her core; and she is a noblewoman. I rather like that about her. I wouldn't do well with a fussy, nor obsequious woman. My lady is neither. She was made for me." he said firmly with a quirk of his brow.

"Indeed. Now, do consider my suggestion to join me on a hunt on Sunday. You could use a reprieve, friend, and so could some of those hard working men of yours. The fresh air, exercise, and company will do you some good. It's only for a few hours. The shire will not fall because of it. It will still be there for you at the end of it." Prince John encouraged him.

"I will consider it, friend."

"Good. See that you do. Late morning outside my estate. I'll leave it up to you, but I do hope you'll join me. God knows you could use it." Prince John encouraged him.

In the library, Ladies Meridwyn and Isabelle were meeting. Isabelle was somewhat bewildered by the choice of meeting place, but she knew instinctively what this was about.

"Interesting choice of location to meet, Meridwyn." Isabelle commented.

"Not really. Look around, friend. We are the only ones present. We can speak freely here without concern of being overhead."

"I suppose you're right." Isabelle shrugged.

"Look, if we met in one of our quarters and Rhiannon ran into us on the second floor, she would wonder what we're up to. When we exit this room the chances of seeing her are remote. And, if she did see us, we could easily explain it away." Meridwyn said with a knowing quirk of her brow.

Isabelle sighed. "Indeed." she said.

"Isabelle, we have to find a way to deter Rhiannon from this ridiculous plan of hers. I've a bad feeling about this. She is under strict instructions to remain here." Meridwyn warned with a quirk of her brow.

"I agree. I'm nervous about this, and I don't like having to lie to Robert, and especially to the Sheriff. Robert is an honest man; and God knows what the fallout will be with the Sheriff."

"Not that honest, Isabelle. You're forgetting the biggest lie he kept from Rhiannon." Meridwyn reminded her.

"Surely, you know why? He did what he thought was best — for her safety! You were here then. Surely you recall what the Sheriff and your husband were like back then? Robert had no choice." Isabelle said, firmly.

"I am aware. True, I was present, but you were not."

"That may be, but everyone was talking about it — all throughout the land." Isabelle said, softly.

"Yes. It was a very different time. I started courting Guy somewhat near the end of that time. I actually considered breaking our courtship, but decided to give it some time to see how it would play out. I was glad I did, because I saw changes in both Guy and the Sheriff." Meridwyn said.

"You're obviously very patient, Meridwyn." Isabelle smiled.

"I don't know about that. It was the danger and the challenge of getting to the heart of him that initially attracted me to him. Maybe I was just a fool and it all worked out." Meridwyn said.

"Indeed." Isabelle nodded.

"We're getting off topic. What are we going to do about Rhiannon, Isabelle? This cannot happen. You know this!" Meridwyn urged.

"I've been losing sleep wondering the same thing. What if we sneak into the stables and set her horse, Sugarhead, or whatever his name is, free?"

Meridwyn frowned and shook her head while folding her arms.

"Firstly, how do you think you'll set her horse free? The entire property is walled, with men manning the portcullis. You planning to just walk that horse through the gates? Or, are you planning to ride the horse off the property, through the gates, past the two guards who are always — "

"I get your point, Meridwyn. Now, what was the second point?" Isabelle asked.

"You don't know your sister in law very well, do you?" Meridwyn sighed.

"Naturally, no. But… surely, that would thwart her plan, wouldn't it — if we could somehow manage to succeed with freeing the horse?"

"Ha ha! No. I guess she didn't tell you about the time we stole two horses out of the stables, and she stole the Sheriff's dagger?" Meridwyn asked with a knowing quirk of her brow.

"I don't recall hearing about that. No." Isabelle frowned.

"We mentioned it to you once, but we may have omitted those details." Meridwyn sighed. "We left in the night heading north to look for our men. We didn't feel safe here without them. It was when the criminal who was abducting and killing numerous maidens in this and two other counties was running amuck. We feared he was coming for us because we both got away from him." she quickly explained.

"Oh, yes. I think it was mentioned. Wasn't that the day we got tipsy in the Sheriff's private chambers? Yes. Rhiannon mentioned stabbing the man." Isabelle shuddered.

"Yes, I believe it was. Of course, there's more to that story, but, it matters not right now. Suffice to say, letting Rhiannon's horse run free from the stables will not serve as a deterrent to her. Trust me. She'll just take another horse, all the while angered, wondering what happened to her own horse."

"Maybe if I make myself unavailable she won't go alone?" Isabelle mused.

"That wouldn't stop her, either. She is an expert horsewoman, Isabelle. Remember, she had to manage many years on her own. There's really nothing she can't do." Meridwyn said.

"Yes. I do keep forgetting about that. You're right." Isabelle sighed.

"We must warn the Sheriff, Isabelle. I see no other way to stop her."

"No! She will never forgive us for betraying her, Meridwyn. And, what will he do to her?"

"What? What do you mean by that? You think he's going to lock her in the dungeon? Torture her? Come on, Isabelle! He loves her fully. He would have a stern talk with her, but he would never harm her. Have you learned nothing in your time here?" Meridwyn admonished, shaking her head.

"It's not as if he's incapable of it — "

"Push that preposterous thought out of your head, Isabelle. That man would die to protect her. I know this in my very soul. If I didn't, I would have warned her a long time ago. You didn't see him when she went missing. He walked around here like a living corpse. He was here, but, not here." Meridwyn explained.

"Oh. I see."

"And then, we nearly lost her again, on the night of my wedding. He was beside himself, and determined to save — "

"What? What do you mean about the night of your wedding, Meridwyn?" Isabelle asked, pointedly.

"Uhh… " Meridwyn parried.

"Tell me." Isabelle pressed.

"She was feared mortally injured. She was… stabbed in her side." Meridwyn said, softly.

"Wait… what?!"

"You didn't know. Oh, dear… " Meridwyn sighed.

"No. I didn't. Robert doesn't know either, though the Sheriff has hinted to us that she had given him numerous scares."

"It's not my story to tell, Isabelle. I'm sure she will tell you and Robert about it when the timing is right for her."

"Understood. Just one thing… how was it she survived such a wound?"

"By the skills of Lady Margaret, and the medicus, Thomas Crumwell; with the added help of the Sheriff, and Mortianna." a beat. "He would do anything for her, Isabelle. I believe it with all of my heart. You should, too. You mustn't worry he will bring harm to her."

"I see." Isabelle nodded.

"Right. Has she told you when she wishes to leave for her manor?"

"No. It's almost as if… she wants to spring it on me at the last moment — so that I won't know the plan to divulge it to anyone!" Isabelle huffed.

"We can still warn him. We must, friend. What other choice is there? What if something happens while she is galavanting about? She was in labour just weeks ago, for the love of Mary!" Meridwyn exclaimed.

"When?" Isabelle asked.

"Let's try and gather some more information before we meet with him. Is that satisfactory?"

"Yes. I will try to pry some details from her."

"Good. And do not fear his reaction. He deeply cares for her. He will greatly appreciate the warning. Trust me, Isabelle."

"Very well. From the information you've just shared, it does shed some light on that for me."

"I wish what happened to her weren't true, but it is fact. Listen, we best get out of here before someone comes. Do try to pry further information regarding the plan from her."

"I shall do my best." Isabelle nodded.

"Oh, and her horse is a mare. She might take offence if you refer to it as a stallion. She's… funny about things like that." Meridwyn smiled.

"Yes. She does seem to quite enjoy animals. Robert has told me about her fondness for her childhood cat she named Otis." Isabelle chuckled.

"Only person I've ever known to name her horse, too." Meridwyn added.

"Such a funny name, too, Meridwyn. Sugarhead!" Isabelle giggled.

They both laughed at this, relieved to have sorted out their own plan, and on that note, they left the library.

As they walked down the corridor they saw the Sheriff coming toward them. He appeared to be heading to the Council Quarters.

"Here's our chance, Meridwyn. It's a sign. We tell him now." Isabelle whispered urgently.

"Are you sure? We don't have many details to share yet — like a date and time." Meridwyn reminded her.

The Sheriff noticed Ladies Meridwyn and Isabelle coming toward him as he walked toward the Council Quarters to meet up with his men. They were acting peculiarly, speaking to each other then looking his way during pauses in their conversation.

"He's right in front of us, Meridwyn. We would be remiss not to mention it. Let's get it over with." Isabelle whispered.

"Very well." Meridwyn sighed.

In moments they were standing only a few feet away from him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Good day, ladies. If you're looking for your husbands, they are in the Council Quart — "

"No, Milord. We're good." Isabelle blurted.

"For God's sake, Isabelle. You're always so form — "

Meridwyn's scornful whisper was silenced by a glare from Isabelle.

"Is there something I could do for either of you?" Nottingham asked, rather perplexed by their behaviour.

"Perhaps…" Isabelle murmured.

"Is this about the wedding, or something?" he asked.

"Sure." Meridwyn muttered. "Do you have a moment to spare?"

Isabelle looked at her strangely.

"Actually, no. Not at the moment. I've an important meeting with Guy, Robert, the Captain, and… a Weapon's Advisor. I'm just about to round them up to take them to meet with… him." the Sheriff said, smoothly.

"Weapon's Advisor, huh? Sounds like a rather redundant role to me. Weapons are either made or wielded. I hope the Weapons Advisor has experience with at least one of those skills." Meridwyn remarked, suspiciously raising an eyebrow at him.

"You'd be surprised." he said, simply.

"Right. We'll leave you to it, then. Perhaps we could chat some other time, Milord?" Isabelle suggested

"That will be fine. It's not urgent, is it? I'm asking in case it slips my mind after the meeting."

"Well, not too urgent, Milord." Isabelle said.

"But, if you happen to remember when you're with Rhiannon later, could you… not mention this to her?" Meridwyn asked.

His eyebrow shot north as he regarded them suspiciously.

"It's nothing, Milord Sher — " Isabelle was interrupted.

"We're… uh… working on a surprise, you see." Meridwyn smiled.

"Yes." Isabelle nodded.

"I see." he nodded as he began to move away from them, about to continue toward the meeting room.

"Milord Sheriff?" Isabelle asked suddenly.

"Yes?" he said, turning to face her.

"Can you… not mention this to our husbands? They will just think we're being… frivolous." Isabelle added.

"Will I?" the Sheriff asked, pointedly.

"No, because this is about your betrothed. They might think us frivolous, but, you won't." Meridwyn added.

"Very well." he said then went on his way.

"Well, that went poorly." Isabelle muttered.

"Yes, surprisingly. We'll just have to look for him later. In the meantime, if you see her, try to gather more details." Meridwyn reminded her.

"I will. Perhaps I could goad something out of her." Isabelle mused.

"Let us hope." Meridwyn sighed.

A short time later, the Sheriff was leading the men into his private chambers.

"Isn't there another entrance into Mortianna's lair, my Lord?" Duke Farnsworth asked.

"There is, but access from my den is easier." the Sheriff said as he closed the door behind them.

"What about Rhiannon, Milord? Won't she think it rather peculiar when we emerge from there back into your den?" Robert asked.

"That won't be a problem. She's busy for the next while; and if you men prefer we can exit the apothecary from the other door." he said as he opened the door from his den that led down into her lair.

He took them down the long circular stone staircase that ended at the witch's lair. Mortianna heard their footsteps and greeted them at the base of the stairs.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen." Mortianna said. "Come. I have something to share which I believe will be useful to you."

She led the way into the apothecary and gestured to a table for them to gather around. A large cauldron brewed over a small fire nearby creating a purple coloured haze. The men took their seats and Mortianna stood beside the table to address them.

"Alright, Mortianna. We're ready. Tell us what it is you believe shall help us." the Sheriff said.

"I've developed a paste that can be used to coat arrowheads to deliver — "

"Poison." Robert interrupted. He sighed. "It's poison, isn't it? Why else would you be conferring with us regarding weapons?"

"Oh, Mortianna, I don't think I introduced you. This is Robert Wordsworth. He is my Blacksmith and Advisor, and — " the Sheriff was interrupted.

"Lady Rhiannon's brother. It's good to meet ye, Sir. I am Mortianna. I've served the Sheriff for many years." she squinted her good eye as she looked upon him. "My, I can see quite a resemblance between you and your sister."

"It's their eyes, for sure." Duke Farnsworth agreed.

"I suppose. Hers are more green than mine, however." Robert shrugged. He looked up to the witch to continue. "Am I correct? It's poison you want to talk to us about, isn't it?"

The witch nodded.

"You're very perceptive." the Sheriff grinned at Robert.

"Well, this certainly would have been useful three years ago." Guy huffed.

"It's something I've been working on. The problem was making the concoctions stable in order to — "

"Stick to the arrowheads. Of course." Duke Farnsworth said.

"Correct." Mortianna nodded.

"I don't know about this, Milord. Do we really need to resort to such… sinister means?" Robert asked the Sheriff.

"You already forge weapons for us, Robert. You're not making them for decoration." Nottingham pointed out.

"The weapons are effective on their own, Milord." Robert countered.

"Yes, and the addition of a poison applied to arrowheads makes them certain." he added.

"Except, most of us use swords, my Lord. Mordrid is the only one who mostly relies on his bow. Luke also uses one, but more frequently reaches for his sword. Nigel is the only other one I can think of who uses his longbow on occasion, but he is away on assignment." Duke Farnsworth explained.

"That is true, Duke." Guy agreed. He looked to the witch then. "Would you recommend we apply the paste to the tips of our swords, as well?"

"No. It wouldn't be of much use." Mortianna said.

"That makes sense. The swords don't need any help to make them effective." the Sheriff said.

"Indeed. And, with the arrows they would need to be aimed at a particular part of the body for peak effectiveness." Mortianna said.

"The centre of the target? The chest?" Robert asked.

"No. The poison works best if aimed into the neck." the witch said.

"Why?" Nottingham asked.

"It would take longer to work if the arrow was aimed into a different part of the body, unless the person was ran through — then it would just be a waste of poison. There's a lot of blood supply in the neck. Plus, there's the matter of armour to pierce. I doubt arrows would do much good if you aimed at the heart." she explained.

"Yes." the Sheriff sighed.

"So, basically, this would only be useful to Mordrid. Would the poison be applied to each arrow in his quiver?" Duke Farnsworth asked.

"As long as there is enough to coat each arrowhead. Yes." Mortianna nodded.

"Why wouldn't there be enough quantity, though? You have your own garden where you grow many of your plants for your various potions." Nottingham pointed out.

"It would depend on how much was in each batch of paste. It's a labour intensive process. It took me quite a time to make a stable mixture that would effectively coat an arrowhead. Previous batches were too watery." Mortianna explained.

"I see. But, you would have enough to eventually coat many arrows, correct?" he asked.

"Aye."

"Which poison are you referring to, Madam? Wolsbane?" Robert asked.

"There's a few that would work. Wolfsbane is one, also belladonna, and foxglove. I'd recommend wolfsbane and belladonna." Mortianna said.

"And, whom would apply the paste? Myself, or the archer? I'm guessing that would be me." Robert sighed.

"T'would probably work best as applying it would be time consuming to the archer. Of course, if you're not comfortable with that ye could bring the arrows to me and I will apply it to the arrowheads." the witch suggested.

"It's not just my level of comfort with it, it's the matter of discretion in the armoury." Robert said, addressing all of them. "There's a lot of men down there, and even though Stephanus is blind, he would know. He'd question the amount of time I would be spending on arrows. And then, there's the Swordsmith, Eustace Bromley. That man doesn't miss a thing." he sighed.

"We will leave that part to Mortianna except for the times you may have privacy in the armoury." Nottingham said.

"Very well. Just a question for the Captain." Robert said.

"Yes, Robert. What is it?" Duke Farnsworth asked.

"I suppose any of the three of you would know." Robert began as he looked to each of them at the table. "How skilled is Mordrid with the bow? I mean, he's expected to hit a specific and small target area to achieve the best results with the coated arrowheads."

"Indeed." the Sheriff sighed.

"He's good with a bow, but, like most of us he is often aiming for centre mass, unless the target is wearing armour." Duke Farnsworth said. He looked to the Sheriff. "Mordrid would need to be in fairly close proximity to pull this off, correct?"

"Yes. Quite a bit closer range than normal. Maybe we should get him practicing for that." Nottingham mused as he stroked his beard, pensively.

"Or, perhaps Prince John was right. Perhaps we should be thinking about investing in a few crossbows and train more of our men?" Guy suggested.

"Longbow or crossbow, the paste would work on the arrowheads either way." Mortianna said.

"Perhaps." Nottingham said. "Or, we have more of the men training to use a longbow. Mordrid is the best archer available to us, since Nigel is on assignment; and even he has said he doesn't like using a crossbow. Most people don't. Like he and Luke said: they take too much time to load."

"Is this really necessary at this point in time, my Lord?" Duke Farnsworth asked.

"Not a necessity, but, it's another option available to us. It raises our game." he said.

"Yes, it would." Robert sighed.

"You don't like the idea." Duke Farnsworth remarked.

"You have to admit, there's a number of drawbacks. It takes time for Mortianna to make; there's the application of it to the arrowheads; the use of it limited to one, maybe two archers in the Black Knights; and the archers will need some training to ensure the efficacy of it. Basically, a logistical and… ethical problem." Robert explained.

"He does raise some good points, Cousin." Guy said.

"Yes, and all of those points will be considered. We can definitely make it work, however. Mordrid and Luke are skilled with a bow. So is Nigel, and I expect we shall have him back sometime between my wedding and Yule — "

"Yule? Wouldn't that be a little… late, Milord?" Robert asked with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"At the rate things are going around here, Robert… indeed. You are right. Nigel is a good fighter. So is Richard, but Nigel in particular is probably the best of them that way. The sooner he's back, the better — even though he can be irritatingly direct at times." Nottingham said.

"Indeed." Robert sighed. He was disappointed initially, but a second later realized that the Sheriff wouldn't reference the boy.

The Sheriff looked again to his cousin.

"Even we use longbows on occasion, Gis." he said.

"Aye, but, how skilled are we with them that we could guarantee we'd hit a target, probably a moving target — in his neck?" Guy pointed out.

"That is true. All of us are accustomed to hitting centre mass. Of course, most of us are using steel, though." the Captain added.

"Right. I think we'll just start with training Mordrid and Luke. When Nigel returns, he will complete a training session, as well." the Sheriff said.

"Sounds reasonable." Duke Farnsworth said.

"Would the coated arrowheads be used frequently, or on occasion?" Robert asked.

"I don't think it's something we would need to implement on a regular basis, but it would be useful on occasion. In the meantime, though, let's inform Mordrid and Luke. And, do either of you know — does Ancel use a bow?" the Sheriff asked Guy and Duke Farnsworth.

"I've never seen him carry a bow." the Duke said.

"That's correct. He carries a sword. He also has a dagger." Guy said.

"Very well. We'll just stick with training Luke and Mordrid." Nottingham nodded.

"What do you think about investing in a couple of crossbows for the lads to try, Cousin?" Guy said.

"Does Samson make those, as well?" he asked.

"He does, my Lord." Duke Farnsworth said.

"Then, I suppose we could commission him to make us two. But, who shall train the two men to use them?" he asked with a quirk of his brow.

"I would imagine it would be Samson Fingle, my Lord. He is the one who crafted the crossbow for Nichol, and I think he showed Nichol the basics on how to use it, as well. I'm sure I remember Nichol mentioning that when I asked him where he found such a fine crossbow." Duke Farnsworth explained.

"Very well." the Sheriff nodded.

"And, I would just need to be shown how best to apply the paste to the arrowheads, if I'm given the opportunity to do it in the armoury." Robert said to the witch.

"That can easily be arranged." Mortianna said. "First rule is, ye will wear gloves. Especially when applying the Devil's root." she said.

"Devil's root?" Robert asked with a curious quirk of his brow.

"Belladonna." she clarified.

"I see."

"Actually, wear the gloves for either poison." Mortianna instructed.

"Duly noted." Robert nodded.

"Very good. Have you a batch of this paste ready, Madam?" Nottingham asked.

"Aye. It will be ready to use whenever ye need it. It won't lose its potency if you need time to further train your archers, Milord." Mortianna assured him.

"Good." he said.

"Right. Is there anything else we should know?" Duke Farnsworth asked.

The Sheriff looked to Mortianna, who confirmed with a shake of her head.

"No. Everything is covered. Not a word to anyone. I'll speak to Mordrid and Luke." Nottingham said.

"Very well, my Lord Sheriff." Duke Farnsworth nodded.

"As you wish, Milord." Robert said.

Gisborne nodded.

The Sheriff showed them the alternate exit from the apothecary, then turned to head back in the direction of the stone circular steps that led into his den.

The witch stopped him before he made it to the steps.

"Last night you were asking me about belladonna, Milord. The… other uses for it besides the obvious deadly variety." she began.

"You mentioned something about medicinal use, Madam. It matters not. I can't think of any indication for it pertaining to me, or Rhiann — "

"Besides a small batch of paste I've made with it, I also have a liquid variety. One drop is enough to ease any worry and help one to relax; two to three drops will bring a peaceful sleep with pleasant dreams — " she was interrupted.

"Good to know, Mortianna, but not necessary. The last thing my lady needs is to come to depend upon yet another drug. You recall the thorn apple seed episode, surely?" he reminded her with a quirk of his brow.

"Of course." she nodded.

"Good, then we have no use for such a… medicament."

"I might be old, and blind in one eye, but I am not deaf, child. Often I hear footsteps during the night. Someone isn't sleeping soundly most nights in your chambers. My guess is it is you who needs a good night's sleep."

"My lady is prone to feeling cold as of late. I make sure the fire stays lit throughout the night." he said.

"That may be. I have it here should ye ever require something stronger than your brandy to aid your sleep." Mortianna said.

He nodded and then went on his way.

This time she left her book inside. The focus was on target practice since she hadn't done so in a few days. She checked to make certain that Madam Oberon's navy velvet cloak was still attached to the low hanging tree branch. Rhiannon tried to tell her she wouldn't need it, but Madam Oberon suggested it would be better for her to throw it on before coming inside, rather than trying to make a mad dash to the seamstress' quarters in an effort to obscure her identity while wearing men's clothing.

She was just finishing up, ready to take another go at it, since she had failed to hit the target dead in the centre of it thus far. She took a breath, positioned seventy five yards from the target she had fastened to the tree, trying to remember again the advice her brothers had given her when they spent that one summer teaching her how to shoot the arrows. And then, it came to her.

"No, no, Rhiannon. Not like that." Edward had said, moving closer to her to demonstrate. "Your arms are too stiff. Pull it back to the centre of your chin, right at that level."

"You're using your eyes more than your muscles. The bow is an extension of you. Remember that and you'll never miss." Robert added.

"Sure. Until you get old and your eyes fail!" Edward laughed.

"Like this, Eddie?" Rhiannon asked, imitating the stance that Edward had shown her.

"Yes. Now, use your eyes. Eyes on that man made of straw tied to that tree in the distance." Edward instructed.

"Aim for centre mass, Sis. Dead centre of the chest." Robert said. "Don't forget to take a breath in before release. After awhile you won't need to, but it will help you to focus."

She remembered that her next shot was perfectly aimed.

"Well done, Sis! I knew you could do it!" Edward exclaimed, patting her on the back.

"Stick with us, and we'll teach you everything you need to know." Robert smiled.

"With… some limitations. I mean, there's certain things we cannot teach you, of course." Edward joked.

"Very funny, Brother. That goes without saying, surely." Rhiannon said.

"Just remember you're not chattel, Rhiannon. Never let a man treat you as such, just in case… we're not around to protect you." Robert advised.

"I would never, Robert. I'm not a piece of property, and certainly not a damned brood mare." Rhiannon stated, firmly.

"Language, my dear." Robert admonished.

"For God's sake, Robert. You're always so proper. Don't you ever get bored of it?" Rhiannon sighed.

"Not really. No." he said, dryly.

"He's the educated one." Edward teased.

"We all are, Brother. You know this!" Rhiannon pointed out.

"True, but Robert puts it into practice through every moment of every day." Edward said. Then he looked to Robert. "She's right, Brother. How do you not grow tired of it? We're the only ones here. We won't scold you if you let an odd slang or curse word escape your lips."

"Because eventually it will pay off. I hope for success one day, and if I'm well read and eloquent it will serve me well for that purpose." Robert said.

"Very well, Sage. You know best."Edward scoffed.

"Wait… what did you mean by the remark: in case we're not around?" Rhiannon asked.

"In case we're… away." Robert said, simply.

"The Crusade, you mean. It will never end whether you fight under the King's banner or not." Rhiannon said.

"Perhaps." Robert said, evasively.

"You certainly know how to dampen a good bit of fun, Brother." Edward sighed. He looked to Rhiannon. "Forget about it, Rhiannon. Do it again!" he encouraged her.

"Yes. Just forget what I said. There's still a few more arrows in that quiver. Grab one and have another go at it, Rhiannon. Keep shooting them until it's second nature. Because… once you master this, you must learn to aim for a smaller area on the target." a beat. "The neck." Robert grinned.

"Why would I need to learn that?" Rhiannon asked.

"If your opponent is wearing plate armour, you'll need to be practiced with that, Sis. If… you're planning to actually use it for self defence, I mean." Edward explained.

"Exactly, Edward. Because you just know she's not only wanting to learn this for sport." Robert nodded.

"If you two pursue your foolish notion of joining the King's banner in that cursed Crusade, then I will need to properly defend myself, won't I?" a beat. "Teach away, Brother dear." Rhiannon smirked at Robert.

It was a bittersweet memory, because she missed her brother dearly. He was the perfect balance between her intensity, and Robert's seriousness. She sighed as a silent tear fell from the corner of her eye. She told herself it was due to the cold wind blowing, but inside of her soul she knew otherwise. She brushed it away and took position holding the bow exactly as Edward had shown her. She stared intently at the target for a moment, took a breath in, then released the arrow.

It hit the target perfectly in dead centre.

She smiled.

"Oh, Eddie." she whispered softly. "You are never forgotten. Everything you taught me is still there."

The wind began to howl and for a brief moment she thought she could hear his voice telling her, "I know, Sis."

She pushed the thought aside and continued on. There was no point wallowing in grief. Nothing would change. Nothing could bring him back. She grabbed another arrow out of the quiver and assumed the position to take another shot.

Mordrid and Alfred were surprised to see the Sheriff approaching them as they guarded the doors of the dungeon.

"Good afternoon, Milord. We didn't expect to see you back here so soon." Mordrid said.

"It's a working day, Mordrid. What else would I be doing? Playing a game of backgammon with the Prince?" he retorted.

"Of course not, Milord." Mordrid nodded.

Alfred opened the doors to let him pass. Nottingham walked in and found Joseph conferring with Aldred.

"Milord Sheriff. Good to see you again." Joseph said with a nod.

"Good afternoon, Milord Sheriff." Aldred said.

"How goes things in here, men?" he asked.

"Aldred just completed another search of the newest prisoner's cell." Joseph said.

"I see. Anything amiss?"

"No, Milord. I found nothing out of order in his cell." Aldred said.

"Any difficulty with him?"

"No. None whatsoever. He's probably the quietest prisoner in the dungeon, Milord." Joseph said.

"Which has me wondering, Milord — is it necessary to keep him isolated in a one person cell?" Aldred asked.

"Well, technically, he hasn't committed the act of murder, but he was planning it." Nottingham mused. "What's your opinion on that, Joseph?"

"I think he could be managed just as well amongst the other prisoners, Milord; but… only if you deem it appropriate, of course." Joseph said.

"Noted. I'm going to have a word with him first. The key, Joseph." he said, as he held out his hand.

Joseph extracted the appropriate key and passed it to the Sheriff. The Sheriff walked to the cell door, unlocked it, and pushed the door forcefully in his usual fashion.

The prisoner looked up, jolted by the sound of the cell door banging. He sighed.

"I see. Must be sentencing time." Hamon muttered.

"A fascinating proposition, but… not yet." Nottingham said as he walked toward the prisoner.

"Well, surely you're not here to check upon my welfare."

"Correct. How perceptive of you."

"Then, what can I do for you?"

"What do you think?" Nottingham taunted.

"I've no idea, truthfully." Hamon said.

"I'm told you've been especially cooperative during your… stay." Nottingham said with a curious quirk of his brow.

"I assumed that was the preferable action. It's not as if I have a choice."

"Oh, you had a choice, alright. And, your choice was to make a plan to murder my betrothed because of your mistaken belief about your sister." he pointed out.

"You of all people know what revenge is about." Hamon replied.

"Do you think you're the only person in the shire who knows about grief? I suppose you think it's unfamiliar to me."

"Well, I — "

"Made an assumption you know nothing about. Too caught up in your emotion to see logic." Nottingham said.

Hamon just stared at him wordlessly.

"Quiet and cooperative. That's how my jailer characterizes you. I don't like quiet and cooperative. It usually spells nothing but trouble. So, you will be housed amongst the other prisoners." Nottingham announced.

"With them?" Hamon asked, in wide eyed surprise. "A bunch of thieves, abusers, and murderers?"

Nottingham chuckled, then immediately straightened his expression.

"What the hell makes you think you are better than they are? Surely you jest!"

"And, what about Ancel? What makes you think he is worthy to serve as one of your Knights? You think he is the best?" Hamon shot back.

"As I told you before, Ancel has already answered to me — for a good many hours of intense interrogation." a beat. "Yes, he is good. He is very good. Here's the thing, though: he is only one of my best."

Hamon swallowed dryly.

The Sheriff reached over and grabbed the prisoner by his straggly collar.

"If you think you can outwit and outperform either me or my men, you are gravely mistaken. Any of us could take you down in a heartbeat!" Nottingham growled.

"Noted." Hamon choked out the word.

"You would do well to remember that fact." he hissed while letting go of him.

Rebeccah was growing restless in her quarters. She was accustomed to keeping busy, not sitting idle in a room waiting for permission to exit. She needed a breath of air. No one had been by to instruct her further, so she decided it couldn't hurt to take a walk. She was determined. She couldn't stay in these quarters a moment longer — not without taking a break from the boring mundaneness of it.

The tall dark haired sentry stationed outside her quarters was the first challenge.

"Miss? What do you think you're doing?" he asked. He was newly assigned to this post, taking over from Alfred who was now assigned to dungeon watch with Mordrid. The young man couldn't understand for the life of him why one of the Sheriff's top men would be assigned to stand guard at the dungeon doors with Alfred, but he assumed there must be a good reason for it.

"It's stifling in there." she nodded behind her. "I need a breath of air." Rebeccah explained.

"My instructions are — "

"Look. I'm not a prisoner. If I were, wouldn't I be kept in the dungeon?" she asked.

"Well, I suppose… "

"I won't be long. I truly just need a breath of air for a moment. There's no need for alarm."

"I'm really not permitted to let you leave. I suppose you raise a fair point, however." the guard muttered.

"I promise I won't be long at all. I'll be back in no time, and no one shall be the wiser." Rebeccah implored him.

"Miss, I really must implore you — "

"Sir, if you must know, I'm feeling rather queasy. I need air, or… would you prefer I heave on your shiny boots?" she asked while covering her mouth, feigning nausea.

The guard instinctively stepped back from her.

"Do not be long. And, tell no one of this." he instructed her.

She nodded and went on her way.

"Wait, Miss?"

"Yes?" she turned to face him.

"What if the Sheriff comes by to visit with you?" he asked as he quirked his brow.

"Tell him I was feeling nauseous and needed to step outside for a moment."

"Very well. Do not be long." he reminded her.

It took her some time to find her way toward the staircase. She looked around and saw no one save for some servants who were kept too busy to notice her. She made her way down the stairs and then lost her bearings. She couldn't remember where the main doors were. She walked around a bit then found another set of doors. She assumed it was the rear entrance. She shrugged, deciding this might be better anyway. Perhaps there were less guards back there?

She exited the doors and walked past an open area with stone benches, a small fountain, and a garden wall and found herself walking through a garden maze. She noticed many of the roses were still in bloom. Odd for this time of year. The wind picked up, the smell of decaying leaves mixed with the faint scent of roses permeated the air. After some time she realized she had cleared the labyrinth of hedges and gardens. She was in a clearing but she could see a wooded area still contained within the castle walls, just ahead of her. She noticed a bench to her right and stopped to sit for a moment, taking in the cool fresh air and the sights all around her.

Rhiannon was just clearing the wooded area, having finished with today's target practice. She walked about twenty yards and saw a woman seated on a bench to the left of her. She muttered curses under her breath as she took the cape that was draped over her arm and quickly placed it around her. She assumed it was one of the servants taking an afternoon reprieve from her duties, but was startled as she moved in closer toward the woman.

"Rebeccah? Are my eyes deceiving me?" Rhiannon asked.

"Milady Rhiannon! How good to see you, my dear." Rebeccah said as she stood, trying to cover nervousness with congeniality.

Oh, no! How am I to explain this? Oh, curses! He is going to be so cross with me. I must think of something. Come on, Rebeccah. Think!

Rhiannon hurried over to her lady servant, convinced there was trouble at the manor.

"What is it, Rebeccah? Is there a problem at home?"

"Oh, no, Milady! Not at all!" Rebeccah said, hurriedly.

"Oh, I see. So, you're here to visit. Right. But, how did you know I'd be back here? My betrothed knows, but he's been busy today so I doubt you've seen — "

"Oh. That's too bad. Perhaps I should have come to see… him… another time then." Rebeccah muttered.

"Him? You're hear to see George, then?" Rhiannon asked.

"Well… yes, Milady Rhiannon." Rebeccah nodded.

"Right. About what? And, why are you way back here?" Rhiannon asked with her eyebrow quirked, curiously.

"Yes, well, I was interested to… take a quick look at these lovely gardens, you see."

Why would I be here… to see him? Think of something, damn it! I don't wish to see him, but… what to tell her? Hmm… there has been the suspicions I've had about the local….

"Rebeccah? Is everything well at the manor?"

"Oh, yes, Milady Rhiannon. Everything is just fine. All is well!"

"Then why must you speak to my betrothed?" Rhiannon pressed.

"Yes. Well, there's a matter I've been meaning to bring to his attention about one of the local… merchants." Rebeccah nodded, pleased with herself to have thought of it.

"Oh? Anyone I know?"

"Sure. The butcher, Milady. Cyrus — "

"Massacriar. Yes. I know the one." Rhiannon sighed.

"There's something odd going on over at his shop, Milady. I felt it best to speak to the Sheriff about it."

"And, you decided now would be a good time? You've been mentioning this on and off for awhile, Rebeccah."

"Yes. Firstly, I've been rather busy with my duties at your manor. Secondly, things have become increasingly odd at the butcher shop." Rebecca said.

"In what way?" she pressed. "Overpriced meat — yet again?"

"Something like that… " Rebeccah muttered.

"I see." Rhiannon said. "But… why now?"

"It's as good a time as any. I also wanted to check on your welfare, Milady. Last I heard, you were recovering from illness."

"Yes. I'm doing fine now, Rebeccah, as you can see." Rhiannon smiled.

"I'm pleased to see that. Your nuptials are fast approaching and we need you well for that. Which brings me to another point. Where are your gloves, Milady?"

Rhiannon looked down at her hands. She realized she left them beside the place she concealed her weapons.

"It's awfully chill, Milady. You usually wear them this time of year. You mustn't get a chill."

"I did have them. I uhh… must have left them in the stables. Yes. I was checking on my horse." Rhiannon lied.

"I see."

"Let me take you to my betrothed, and then I shall fetch them." she suggested.

"No. It's quite alright, Milady. I will go inside and inquire within. You best get those gloves before it starts raining again." Rebeccah said.

"Very well."

"Don't worry about the manor. All is well. I'll find the Sheriff. I shall see you next on your wedding day." Rebeccah smiled.

"I can grab my gloves after I take you — "

"It's fine, Milady. You fetch your gloves. You were ill recently and you mustn't get a chill." Rebeccah smiled.

"Alright. I'll see you on the eleventh then." Rhiannon nodded then turned and went on her way.

Rebeccah made her way though the maze of hedges and gardens and finally arrived at the open area by the rear entrance. She saw Ancel near the doors walking toward her.

"Oh! What are you doing here?" Rebeccah asked.

"I could ask the same. I was looking for you." Ancel sighed.

"I needed air. Perhaps that wasn't the best idea. Why were you looking for me?"

"Take a random guess, Rebeccah."

"Oh. He was looking for me." she sighed.

Ancel nodded.

"Can you take me back to my quarters, Aleyn? Curses! Ancel. I wonder if I'll ever get used to that?" she took a breath before continuing. "I lost my way earlier while finding the exit. Can you get me back there… " she turned around, darting her eyes looking for Lady Rhiannon. "Before she gets back?"

"Whom?"

"Lady Rhiannon. The Sheriff's lady. I ran into her, I'm afraid." she sighed.

"Oh, no. What did you tell her?" he asked while folding his arms.

"I told her I was here to speak to her betrothed about a matter. All is well. Just get me back, Aleyn… Ancel!"

"Come." he smiled as he offered his arm.

The Sheriff was seen just outside the Council Quarters, speaking with Gisborne. He noticed Ancel escorting Rebeccah. They looked to be heading toward the staircase.He excused himself and swiftly walked toward them.

Ancel saw him and stopped. Rebeccah was surprised by that until she turned her head and noticed whom was coming toward them.

Nottingham stopped a few feet away from them. He folded his arms and gave her a scornful glance while slowly shaking his head.

"Fancy meeting you here." he said.

"Yes, Milord. I needed to step outside and get a breath of fresh air. I'm not accustomed to sitting idle while holed up in a room." Rebeccah sighed.

"She was found out back — in the gardens, Milord Sheriff." Ancel added.

"Great. And, I would wager you saw her, didn't you?" he asked her.

"Well… yes, Milord." Rebeccah admitted.

"She didn't return with you?"

"She left her gloves in the stables. She went back to get them. She shall be returning shortly, I'm afraid."

"Make it quick. What did you tell her?"

"I told her I was here to see you about a matter, and to check on her health. It's fine, Milord. All is well." Rebeccah said.

"Fine." he sighed. He looked to Ancel. "Get her back to her quarters at once, before my lady sees you two."

"Yes, Milord Sheriff." Ancel nodded.

Nottingham looked back to Rebeccah.

"I shall speak to you later. Stay in your quarters. We shall go over the rules again when we meet, and you can expound on this matter — if there even is a matter that you know of."

"Very well, Milord." Rebeccah nodded. She looked downcast a moment and sighed. Then her eyes met his again.

"What is it, Rebeccah?" the Sheriff sighed.

"Is there nowhere else I can be housed, farther away from Lady Rhiannon? So that I don't have to worry about running into her?"

"Not at the moment. No. You best be on your way. My lady does not move slowly. She will be here any moment."

"Come, Rebeccah. Let's get you to your quarters." Ancel said.

She nodded and began ascending the stairs with him.

"What was that about?" Guy asked as he suddenly appeared beside his cousin.

"Another woman who is free spirited. Zeus help us all!" Nottingham huffed.

"This is what happens when you try to control everything, Cousin." Guy said softly.

"Do not question me! You're the only one who knows the whole truth about the reason I brought Rebeccah here. You know it would just worry Rhiannon." he whispered sternly. He paused a moment before he continued. "Just keep quiet about it and let me get on with it."

"Yes, Cousin." Gisborne sighed.

The Sheriff nodded then took leave of him.

Nottingham made his way through the rear exit of the castle and headed through the gardens toward the wooded area where he knew she would be. After some time he reached the other side of the clearing and saw her walking toward him. He kept moving and stopped as he reached her.

"How did it go, my lady?" he asked as he took her hand and kissed it.

"Quite well. I hit the target from just about eighty yards." she smiled.

"Keep it up and you'll be aiming from the clearing next." he chuckled.

"We shall see. Did you see Rebeccah?"

He paused a moment before responding, contemplating how best to answer.

"I spoke to her briefly. Yes." he said.

"Oh. So, she told you about the problem with the butcher?"

"Yes, we did speak about it. It will be handled, my lady."

He wondered briefly if there really were a problem with the butcher. He had issues with Massacriar in the past, so it wouldn't surprise him if Rebeccah did have something to say about him.

"That's good. I don't know why she waited until now to come to you about it. She's been complaining about it for quite some time." Rhiannon remarked, shaking her head.

"I think she wanted some assurance that you're feeling better. I'm sure that's why she came by." the Sheriff smiled.

"I see. So… now that I'm starting to master the longbow, what do you think of me trying a crossbow?"

"Seriously?" he sighed.

"Yes. Why not?"

"Is that really necessary, my lady? They're a bit more complicated, and tedious to load." a beat. "It's not like you'll need it."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Have you ever used one?"

"Not much. I knew someone who was skilled with it. He… let me handle it a few times." he said evasively as he looked downcast.

"Oh? Who was he?"

"Nic… " he said softly, still looking toward the ground.

"Did you say 'Nic'?"

"Yes."

"The former Captain of the Black Knights?"

"The one and only." he nodded.

"Last night while we dined was the first I've heard of him. You've never mentioned him." Rhiannon pointed out.

"No."

"Why haven't you?" she pressed.

"It never came up." he said, simply.

"He was more than just your Captain, wasn't he?"

"Rhiannon… " he sighed.

"Well?"

"Yes. He was also my Lead Investigator, as the Duke is now. As well as my counsel. A very good friend… for many years." he said softly.

"And yet, you never thought to mention him." she repeated.

"No."

"Really?"

"My lady, you know me by now. I've never spoken much about sorrow. I've never revealed much — even to myself." he said softly.

"George?"

"He was almost like a brother, second to Guy. Knew him since we were young lads, before my cousin was born."

"Where is he now, my love?"

"He died, Rhiannon. Three years ago during the fiasco in the Village Square."

"I shall be your wife. You could have told me about him." Rhiannon said.

"Perhaps. I seldom speak of him because it does no good. It won't bring him back. It was one of the worst of times. You understand?"

"Yes, of course. Forgive me. I didn't mean to drudge up bad memories."

"It's fine, Rhiannon. He was drudged up anyway by the Prince." the Sheriff huffed.

"I see." she sighed.

"That was the past, my lady. All I can say is that Nic was a large part of my past. It was a great loss, but, I got through it."

"Did you, George? You seemed pensive and somber at the mention of his name last evening."

"I did, my lady. It was just… rather unexpected when the Prince mentioned him. It's fine." he said. He smiled as he stared into her eyes.

"What?" she asked.

"Take off that borrowed cloak, my lady. Let me see you in that… leather glory." he said with a salacious grin.

"George?"

"Surely you know that I find it rather appealing to see you dressed as such. A rather unexpected feeling. It's not every day a man would behold such a sight. A beautiful woman dressed in body hugging leather." he smirked.

She smiled as she gazed into his eyes while she unfastened the navy blue ribbons from the navy cloak. She removed it and held it over her arm, then twirled in front of him.

"Lovely, Rhiannon. Now, unfasten the buttons on that overcoat."

She followed his directive and stood back so he could get a better glimpse of her.

"Breathtaking. I never thought I'd say it, but you look… amazing in that fine black leather, my lady." he said as he moved in closer and softly kissed her cheek.

"Thank you, my love." she whispered.

He pulled her in close to him and gave her a soft and passionate kiss.

"Our little secret, my lady. Well, us and your seamstress." he whispered.

"I'm glad you approve, my love. It really wasn't the motivation behind it, however." she remarked with a quirk of her brow.

"I know. But, what an intriguing side effect, though!" he grinned.

"Indeed."

Just then the wind began to howl and pick up, nearly blowing Madam Oberon's cloak from her arm.

"Come, my lady. From the looks of that sky, a storm is fast approaching."

"Indeed." she said as she took his arm. "But, you know by now… I'm not afraid of a storm."

"Oh, I know it. You said that the first day we met."

"And, what a journey it's been." she said.

"The best, my lady. Especially once I found you. I will never let you go."

"Good. I'm not going anywhere." she smiled.

"Indeed. You best put that cloak back on before we start back. I'm liable to start undressing you right here and now, and then… Lady Arianna's velvet cloak would get ruined from the rain." he said as he burned into her eyes with his.

"You're right. It would be fun, but, I should get this back to her." she said while he put the cloak back on her.

"Come. We'll continue this later. I'll see you inside, and then I have one more person to see before we dine." he said.

"Very well." she said. She took his arm and they slowly made their way toward the castle.

The wind grew more fierce. The Sheriff's black suede surcoat, and the velvet cloak Lady Rhiannon wore began to billow around them. He picked up the pace and she followed suit.

"There's no need to make haste, George. You know I'm not afraid of rain."

"True, but the last thing we need is you getting sick right now, my lady. I'm intrigued, though. Is there anything you fear?" he asked.

"Not much, really." she began as she pulled Madam Oberon's cloak closer about her. "You know, speaking of secrets, I'll let you in on a little something." she hinted.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her.

"What is it, my lady?" he asked curiously with a quirk of his brow.

"That time I was held prisoner, last year. Remember that?"

"I will never forget." he said. He wondered why she was mentioning it. Was it possible? Could she finally have recalled something of their child?

"The only reason he had me there — I couldn't fight back. He hit me over the head with something. I think it was a rock. Everything went black. I had no way to fight back, and then I was there in that dingy abandoned cabin… "

"Rhiannon?"

"But, let me tell you something, sugar: I never let him see my fear. I never gave him the damned satisfaction. There was only one thing I feared during that time. My only fear was never seeing you again." Rhiannon said softly.

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me." he said genuinely. He took in a breath. "My fearless little warrior." he added.

"There's not much I fear, George." she said.

She could never speak of her fears, she wasn't even ready to tell him. Not that there were many. Snakes. Fire. Things one might see in a nightmare.

"I know, my lady. You're not a willow. You're an oak. Another reason we're perfectly suited." he smiled. Then he sighed and his face took on a more serious expression. "But, guess what? You're human. Flesh, bones, and blood. You're not impervious to illness. So, since the days are growing colder I'd rather keep you out of the rain, and keep you from anything that could harm you."

"I suppose… "

"Trust me, my lady. You've been doing well. A miracle when only weeks ago it was looking like you would continue to labour. You and the child are fine. Let's keep it that way."

"You really are pleased about the child."

"Of course, I am. It is our child, my angel. Now come. The sky is growing dark, and I've already felt some raindrops."

She nodded and they continued on their way.

Later that evening, the Sheriff's Knights — Luke, Drake, and Adam we're entering into the local tavern for a rare evening of leisure. They were surprised at the number of locals gathered there considering how poorly the weather had turned. The place was bustling. There was music playing from a couple of local minstrels, ale was flowing, torches that were ensconced on the walls were ablaze, as well as candles burning on some of the tables and the area where the barman — whom Luke recognized as the owner from questioning him about Hamon recently — was pouring libations.

Soon after they passed through the threshold they looked around for an empty table.

"Ah, there's one over there near the back. Let's go." Adam said.

"I see it. We best move quickly. This place is filling up, oddly." Luke agreed.

The three of them made their way toward it. Drake followed behind them and got caught up behind a group of men, two of which decided that now would be a good time to show their skills with their swords. The rest of the men moved out of the way, and it was then he bumped into a middle aged man. He stopped and noticed the man was using a walking stick.

"Forgive me." Drake said.

The man turned around to acknowledge him. He briefly looked into Drake's eyes, then quickly looked down toward the floor.

"It's quite alright." the man said softly in a low whisper.

Drake noticed the vivid green eyes of the stranger in that fleeting moment. Familiar eyes. Nothing else about him sparked a memory, but there was something about his eyes. Did he know him… somehow?

"Have we met?" Drake blurted.

"No. I don't know you." the man replied while shaking his head, still looking downcast.

"Why don't you let me buy you a cold frothy mug of ale?" Drake suggested.

"Hey!" the barman called out to the two men who were showing off their swordsmanship in the middle of the room. "What in the devil do you two think you're doing?" he ran out from behind the bar and called to the burly man at the door. "Slayer! Get over here! We got some live ones in the house!"

"We best get out of the way." Drake said to the man with the green eyes.

He nodded to him and they stepped away from the commotion as the burly doorman — with the killer name, in Drakes opinion — answered the summons at once.

The barman and owner of the tavern, satisfied to see the tall, muscled security man enforce the rules and the two drunken men sheath their swords in response, went back to his post behind the bar.

Drake walked over to speak to him.

"Four mugs of ale. Give one to this man." Drake said as he nodded to the older man beside him. "I'll take the rest."

"Coming right up." the barman nodded as he proceeded to pour.

"Is that bloke's name really… Slayer?" Drake asked as he nodded where the doorman stood.

"It's Sayer, but he goes by Slayer. It works out rather well around here." the man grinned knowingly.

"Deadly!" Drake chuckled as he placed some coins on the bar for him.

"You really don't need to do this." the stranger said, still keeping his head down.

"It's the least I can do. I nearly knocked you off kilter." Drake said. "Why don't you come and join us?"

"Us?" the man asked.

"Yes. Look to the right of you. At the back. Those are my mates back there seated at the table in the left corner.

The man turned to his right and took note of the table the young man pointed out. He stared for a moment, then sighed and turned back around, still keeping his head low.

"I thank you for your kindness, but, I'll… be on my way after I finish this." he said as he took a swig of the ale.

The man spoke in hushed tones, but Drake was certain there was something about his voice that seemed familiar, too. He took a sip of ale from one of the three remaining mugs, then shrugged.

"Very well. Suit yourself. If you change your mind, the offer still stands. We won't bite." Drake chuckled.

The man nodded with a wry smile then looked downcast toward his ale once more.

Drake took the mugs then made his way to the back of the room to join his mates.

"Thirsty?" he quipped as he passed the mugs around.

"Where have you been, mate?" Adam asked as he took a swig from his frosty mug.

"Did you not see the commotion in the middle of the room?" Drake asked, incredulously.

"We saw it, but you took some time to get here despite all of that." Luke said.

"Get a load of the doorman guy. His name is Slayer! Isn't that perfect?" Drake chuckled, ignoring their questions.

"Yes. Very apt, actually. But, what kept you, mate?" Adam repeated.

"There was an older man I bumped into. Nearly knocked him flying. I felt badly when I saw he had a walking stick. So, after that Slayer guy broke up the swordplay from those drunken fools, I bought the man a drink."

"Quite generous of you, Drake." Luke said as he took a sip of the ale.

"Ah, it's only ale. Not a big deal."

"Where is he now?" Adam asked.

"He's over at the bar. Right over there." Drake pointed discreetly.

"Oh. The man with longish dark hair, you mean?" Luke asked.

"I guess it's hard to see from back here, and with the dim lighting. It's dark, but tinged with grey." Drake said.

"The bloke's all alone over there. Did you invite him over, mate?" Adam asked.

"I did. I got the feeling he preferred to be alone. He said he was… leaving soon." Drake remarked as he took a swig of his ale. He put it back on the table and stared into it a moment.

"What is it, Drake? We're finally free of our duties, and here to enjoy some merriment, but, you seem troubled?" Luke observed.

Drake sighed, keeping his eyes on his mug of ale.

"What's going on, Drake?" Adam pressed.

"I'm not sure, but… there's something about him." Drake muttered.

"What do you mean?" Adam asked.

"I don't know. There's something… eerily familiar about that man. It's like… I've seen his eyes before. Heard his voice… before. But, I can't place him." Drake said softly while slowly shaking his head.

"Maybe he just reminds you of someone from the distant past?" Adam said.

"I swear I know him… somehow!" Drake exclaimed.

"What?" Adam asked, rather aghast at how bothered his mate was about this. "Some old bloke you bumped into? Impossible. He probably just looks like someone you know."

"Or, used to know." Luke added.

"If it bothers you, why not go over and talk to him again? See if you can encourage him to join us. Maybe he's on the Sheriff's wanted list or something? A few more mugs of ale will get him talking." Adam suggested.

"Hmm. Maybe that's it. Alright, let me see if he'll talk to me. He's… difficult to engage. He kept his head down." Drake paused a moment as a thought came to him. "You might be right, Adam. Maybe he's an outlaw? He would barely look into my eyes!" he exclaimed abruptly as he stood. He turned and made his way back through the crowd toward the bar.

Shortly thereafter he returned to the table, looking slightly bewildered.

"I take it that was another no, then." Adam said.

"He's gone." Drake said.

"That was fast! These are large mugs. The bloke finished his ale and left already? Didn't you say he walked with the aid of a walking stick, too?" Adam asked.

"Indeed. But, he has vanished. Like a bleeding wraith!" Drake said. His colour was slightly pallid as he took his seat.

"Alright, I'm not being funny, but, maybe we should look into this further." Luke said as he placed his mug on the table.

"He's gone." Drake muttered.

"Adam is right. It could be that he was acting oddly because he's a wanted man. Let's step outside and see if we see him." Luke suggested.

"Let's go." Drake nodded.

The three of them left the table and made haste through the crowded tavern and out the door. The wind was howling and the rain was lashing. They scattered and looked around the perimeter of the tavern, covering a radius of about fifty yards. They met back near their horses.

"Did you see him, mate?" Adam asked Drake.

"No, not a trace." Drake said. "What about you two? Any luck?"

"Nothing." Adam said.

"I saw no sign of him either. Odd. Especially for an older bloke who needs a stick to walk with." Luke added.

"He probably left on his horse." Adam said.

"But… how well do you think he can ride, mate? When he walks with a stick?" Luke pointed out.

"Or, if he even needs the stick at all… " Adam mused.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's too damn noisy in there." Drake said, nodding toward the tavern. "Let's get back and maybe we could put our heads together about this in the Dining Hall. We can get a drink there."

"Fine with me." Adam agreed as he untied his horse from the tree.

"Perhaps we should mention this to the Sheriff. You tell him what you observed about the man, Drake. I've a funny feeling the man is on his wanted list." Luke said.

"From what you said, the bloke was acting suspiciously, mate." Adam said.

"Yes. We better tell him. I'd swear I know him, though."

"Maybe you do. We won't know until we speak to the Sheriff." Luke said.

Drake nodded and the three men mounted their horses. They began to make their way through the lashing rain toward the castle on the other side of the Village from where the tavern was located.

Drake couldn't help but review the situation as his horse sped through the night. Why was he bothered by this? Those eyes — in the brief moment he caught o glimpse of them. And, something familiar in the man's voice. He knew he'd seen the man somewhere, somehow before tonight. It would bother him until he put it together. He hoped once he reported this to the Sheriff that it would somehow provide clarity.