On Thursday morning the Sheriff and his lady were in her linen lined bathtub in the bath chamber in Lady Rhiannon's manor. The Sheriff was resting there with his head leaned back over the edge of the tub, his arms were enfolding his lady. She was on top of him, leaned back against his chest.
"We need to come up with a date for our wedding, Rhiannon." The Sheriff said as he began to lightly go over her shoulders with a large, soft as butter sea sponge. "Just give me a general idea since we do not have a calendar to consult at the moment." He added as he kissed her neck.
"Yes, my lord." Rhiannon murmured.
"We should do it soon, before Samhain. I swear to Zeus the people of this village take complete leave of their senses each year at that time!" He commented sarcastically.
"November. The month of your birth." Rhiannon said as she turned her head and looked up at him. "Every year we shall have two things to celebrate in that month – the anniversary of our wedding, and your birth." She smiled.
The Sheriff smiled. "A lovely thought, my dear, but you know how I hate my birthday? It would be better if we got married in a month I do not loathe so much." He sighed.
"November." Rhiannon said firmly.
He sighed. "As you wish."
"Good. Then I can use poppies in the floral arrangements that shall decorate the grand hall! It shall be beautiful with white roses, gardenias – "
"Poppies?" The Sheriff asked abruptly, rather bewildered. It seemed like a strange choice of flower to be seen at a wedding feast?
"Yes. I am rather drawn to them. They shall add rich colour to the grand hall, my love." Lady Rhiannon smiled.
"If it's colour you're after, my dear, why not red roses? Or carnations?" The Sheriff suggested. Poppies? Is she jesting?
Lady Rhiannon shook her head vehemently. "Red roses are far too usual. That is why I've always been drawn to white ones. And carnations?" She crinkled her nose in disgust. "I loathe them! They are the most unattractive flower ever created! I couldn't stand them near me, let alone at my wedding!" She cried. She looked up at him. "Trust me, my prince." A beat. "Poppies." She said firmly as she cast that seductive glance where she lowered her eyelids and gazed up at him through the corner of her eye.
He sighed. "I shall need to see the guest list then." The Sheriff remarked dryly. "I know a few too many people you may not be aware of who would want to steal the blooms to cultivate opium from them!" The Sheriff said shaking his head.
"You had better send for the man in Nettlestone who has the greenhouse, my lord. I should like to consult with him about my vision for the flowers." Rhiannon said firmly.
"Yes. I'm sure you do." The Sheriff said. Wait until Galfrey hears about this. He doubted the man had poppies available in his greenhouse. He sighed. "When will your staff be returning, my angel." The Sheriff asked. He slid his hands over her breasts just below the surface of the water. The oil from Mortianna's special lavender soap was covering Rhiannon's skin in a slick greasy coating, making it feel even more smooth than it already was. He drew in a sigh and hissed through his teeth as he felt his manhood harden for her.
"Probably around midday. I should like to speak with them before I return to the castle. I wish to bring my horse with me anyway, so you should leave before me, before my staff return." She suggested.
"Alright, my angel. But we still have some time." He grinned deviously. "Do you feel that beneath you?" The Sheriff demanded in a raw whisper.
"Mmm. Indeed, I do, my prince." She purred as she began to grind her hips into him, while she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She brought her arms up behind her and placed them around his neck as she moved on top of him.
"Oh, my angel…" The Sheriff breathed.
Rhiannon reached down beneath her and took a hold of him. She began to stroke him slowly. He ran his hands down over her body, down until he was between her thighs. He found her soft flesh and inserted his fingers into her, hooking them as he moved them inside of her and pleasing her with his expert touch.
"George…" She breathed.
"Rhiannon." He whispered.
They continued like that for awhile as he kissed her neck, his soft whiskers tickling her skin. Then he turned her face toward his and began to kiss her slowly, sensually while he continued to please her. She was moving her fingers over his manhood in a frenzied rhythm. He was aching to take her.
She moved suddenly and repositioned herself until she was straddling him. She reached down and took a hold of him to guide him as she gazed into his eyes while she brought herself down toward him.
"My Lady Rhiannon." The Sheriff whispered. He pulled her down to him and kissed her, parting her luscious lips and infusing her mouth with his tongue as she moved on top of him, and he injected his very soul into her.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
An hour later the Sheriff was back at the castle. He saw his Lieutenant just outside of the Council Quarters as he was passing by.
"Well?" Guy said after he greeted him. "What happened? Nobody's seen you since yesterday, so I take it –"
"The wedding is back on." The Sheriff grinned.
"Oh, cousin, that is splendid!" Guy exclaimed. He cleared his throat. "Good! So, does this mean I could take my wife to my manor on Fri –"
"No." The Sheriff frowned.
"But, surely you'll be moving your child to the castle now? Surely you told her?" Guy exclaimed, astonished – and rather irritated his nephew was staking his territory at his manor for so bloody long!
"My lady knows nothing yet of our child." The Sheriff remarked impatiently.
"What? You still did not tell her?" Guy asked.
"I was just about to. But then… a funny thing happened. I was rather taken aback by what she had to say to me." The Sheriff said with a blank stare.
"What was that, cousin?" Guy pressed him.
"And I couldn't tell her. I couldn't will myself to tell her! Curses!" The Sheriff spat.
"I don't understand, cousin? I thought you said the wedding was back on? If that is so, why couldn't you tell her?" Guy asked, bewildered thus far.
"It seems you are not the only one with a child on the way, cousin." The Sheriff said with his eyebrow quirked knowingly as he stared at Guy, unblinking.
Guy stared at him a moment. Then as it slowly dawned on him, his jaw fell agape. He swallowed, then finally found the words.
"Another one?" Guy asked, incredulous.
"Yes." The Sheriff remarked absently. Then his head shot up as he looked at Guy. "What? What do you mean – another one? You make it sound like it's the plague that's coming, not my child!" The Sheriff huffed. Though he realized it wasn't that long ago he might have thought the same thing about children. Of course – those children were not his. He sighed.
"Forgive me, George. I'm just rather – "
"Stunned? Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Now do you see why I couldn't find the words to tell her she already has a child? Curses!" The Sheriff spat.
"You will know when the time is right." Guy said.
"The timing may never be right!" The Sheriff huffed. "Lady Margaret was right. I must tell her soon. Before my son is old enough to question me about why the hell he has never met his own mother!"
"I'm surprised your lady is not with you, sire?" Guy remarked, attempting to divert the topic.
"She is coming. She needed to speak to Lady Rebeccah and the rest of her staff. She insists on bringing her horse as well. She should be here in an hour or so." The Sheriff explained. Suddenly he had an idea come to him. He smiled. "Why don't you and your lady dine with us, cousin? We have much to celebrate! I'm marrying my angel after all, and we have our forthcoming children to celebrate." The Sheriff smiled. He cleared his throat. "I promise you it won't be as strange as our last dining experience together." He said with his eyebrow quirked.
"That will be pleasant, cousin. I know Meridwyn will be very pleased. She has been missing the company of your lady. She hasn't been herself since Lady Rhiannon left the castle almost a fortnight ago!" Guy remarked.
The Sheriff frowned. Had it been that long? No wonder he couldn't take his hands off of her since yesterday!
"Where is Wordsworth?" The Sheriff asked suddenly.
"Robert and his lady Isabelle are staying at the inn in the village." Gisborne replied. "I arranged it for him." He added.
"Did he say whether he has accepted my offer?" The Sheriff asked.
"No. I'm sure he's waiting to tell you his decision."
"I need to see him. I think I will invite he and his lady to dine with us. He will be your family too, cousin, since you are like my brother. We are celebrating tonight. It shall be a perfect welcoming feast for my lady!" The Sheriff exclaimed as a grin spread across his face.
"Indeed." Guy agreed. "If only your son would be there with his family."
"He will, cousin. And I shall make sure it is soon." The Sheriff said as he turned to take leave. He looked back once more as a thought came to him. "Oh, by the way – this shall be a surprise for Rhiannon, so maybe you shouldn't mention to Meridwyn that Robert and Isabelle will be joining us this night." The Sheriff suggested.
"Duly noted." Guy grinned. "I have not shared what I know about him to my bride, but aye, you have my word."
"I shall see you and your bride at dusk in the dining hall then." The Sheriff said. Then he took his leave.
He saw the Scribe next when he was nearing the door that exited the castle.
"My lord." The Scribe nodded to his master.
The Sheriff stopped. "I need you to do two things for me." The Sheriff said.
"Yes, my lord?" The Scribe asked.
"Get word to my chef Jean Louis that he must prepare something special tonight. He will be cooking for six people." The Sheriff instructed.
"Alright."
"And tell the page to let the heralds know to proclaim the news once more that my wedding shall be taking place next month." The Sheriff ordered him.
"My lord?" The Scribe remarked, rather bewildered.
"Lady Rhiannon Wordsworth is my intended bride – in case you've forgotten! And tell the little runt not to fail me!" The Sheriff huffed.
"Indeed, my lord." The Scribe nodded and went on his way.
"Wait!" The Sheriff called after him.
"Yes, my lord?" The Scribe asked.
"Make that three things. Have the page send a messenger to Nettlestone. Write the message for me to Galfrey, the man in Nettlestone who owns the greenhouse. Tell him I need him to come on the morrow to meet with me. Tell him it's regarding my wedding. Give the scroll to the page and once again – tell the cursed little runt not to fail me!" The Sheriff said empatically.
"As you wish, my lord. It shall be done." The Scribe nodded then turned once more to take leave.
The Sheriff had another thought. "Wait!" The Sheriff called once more.
"Yes, my lord?" The Scribe asked, trying to conceal his annoyance.
"No! Give the scroll to Luke. Have Luke get the message to Galfrey. Luke will not fail me. God knows that runt would never remember more than one task!" The Sheriff spat.
"As you wish, my lord. The page I will have speak to the heralds, and I shall send Luke with the scroll to Nettlestone."
"The scroll you shall pen after you find the page and speak to Jean Louis!" The Sheriff added as a reminder to the Scribe of the importance of the scroll. Zeus knows how much time Galfrey would need to obtain poppies!
"Indeed, sire." The Scribe said and then he took his leave to carry out the tasks.
An hour later the Sheriff stood at the doorstep of the inn that was located just outside of the city walls in Nottingham village. He used the large iron ring on the door and banged it against it. A stout man of average height, and balding silver hair answered the knock.
"Yes?" The innkeeper spoke absently, his eyes downcast. "We are full here. I have no rooms –" He looked up and gasped. "My Lord Sheriff." The innkeeper swallowed. "If ye are here to collect taxes I have already given them to Gregor to give to you, my lord." The innkeeper said in trepidation.
"Save it, Erasmus! That is not why I am here." The Sheriff said.
The innkeeper breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled. "How may I be of assistance, my lord?" Erasmus the innkeeper asked.
"I wish to see someone who is staying here. Robert Wordsworth. Which room is he in?" The Sheriff asked.
"He's just down there." The innkeeper said as he pointed right. "Near the end. The door with the dragon painted on it."
"Interesting." The Sheriff remarked.
"Yes, isn't it?" Erasmus smiled. "Michael, the local artist painted the scenes on all of the doors. He's really quite good."
"Yes. I know he is." The Sheriff smiled.
Moments later he stood in front of an oak door that had a large purple dragon painted on it. The dragon was painted over top of a night sky in the background, it had wings and there was a stream of fire emitting from its sinister nostrils. The Sheriff was impressed. He banged his fist against the door.
In moments it opened. Robert stood before him.
"Back so soon?" Robert teased. "I thought I might see you after you went to see my sister, but – when was that now? Was it…yesterday?" He taunted.
"Aye. It was. And you should mind your tongue – since we shall be brothers in law." The Sheriff smirked.
"Well, congratulations!" Robert said. "So, this is going to be a grand affair! Will you be bringing the boy home then?" Robert asked as he beckoned for him to come inside.
The Sheriff followed him past the threshold. He saw Isabelle coming into the room holding a cup in her hand. There was steam visible above the rim – he guessed it was tea.
"Uh… no. Not yet." The Sheriff replied absently.
"I don't understand?" Robert said. "How long are you planning to keep my nephew holed up in Nettlestone?" Robert asked.
"Well, something cropped up and I… couldn't quite bring myself to tell her." The Sheriff said, his eyes downcast.
"She needs to know, my lord. The lad is five months old." Robert pointed out.
"Indeed, you are right. But I just couldn't."
"Can you tell me why?" Robert asked.
"I suppose. Though I'm sure my lady would want to tell you herself." The Sheriff hinted.
"Tell me what?" Robert asked with his arms folded.
"She is with child. You shall be an uncle… again." The Sheriff announced.
"Oh." Robert said. "Well, it's good news, my lord, I am glad for you. But I can see how this must have surprised you." He agreed.
"Indeed." The Sheriff said, his eyes downcast.
"Tea, my lord?" Isabelle asked as she held a cup out to him.
"No, thank you milady. But I did come here for two reasons. The first is that my lady is coming back today. I wish to invite you both to dine with us this evening. My cousin and his wife shall be joining us as well." The Sheriff said.
"We would be pleased." Robert smiled.
"And, I wondered if you gave any thought to my offer?" The Sheriff asked.
"Indeed, you were serious." Robert said.
"Aye. Did Gisborne not tell you about poor Stephanus – my blind blacksmith?"
"He did mention something about your blacksmith needing to be replaced, but he didn't say he was blind. Or…were you jesting just now?" Robert asked.
"No. Trust me – it is no joke. My blacksmith is going blind. I wish to keep him employed in the armoury – perhaps he can help in some way? I don't know why but I've grown a bit fond of him." The Sheriff mused. He cleared his throat when he noticed the looks of astonishment pass over both of their faces. "Anyway, the point is – I do require a blacksmith. And shouldn't you wish to remain in Nottingham since your nephew will be here?"
"I suppose…" Robert said thoughtfully.
"Besides the fact I need your skills, there is something else you can do for me too." The Sheriff hinted.
"What is that?" Robert asked, his curiousity piqued.
"I shall need someone to educate my son, and the other little one coming, on… religion." He forced himself to choke out the loathed word.
"My lord?"
"I know nothing of Christianity. It's true I attend mass – a little more often than I would like." The Sheriff sighed. "I do so for political reasons. I don't pay attention though. Invariably while I'm there I am occupying my mind with thoughts about the tasks I need to do." The Sheriff admitted. "There is nobody else to do this. My son has one other uncle. Technically my Lieutenant is not his uncle, but my cousin is my brother. The trouble is that Guy and myself both believe the same thing about religion – that the holy trinity is a load of rubbish!" The Sheriff spat.
Robert stood speechless for a moment, observing him.
"I'm sure my lady would agree, you are the only choice to be our son's godfather." The Sheriff said.
"If it is my sister's wish too, I shall accept. But first you need to tell her about him." Robert reminded him.
"Indeed. And what of my other offer? Do you accept that as well?"
"I never imagined working for my brother in law before." Robert mused as he looked up thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "Don't you think there might be a conflict of interest there?" He parried.
"Wordsworth!" The Sheriff spat in frustration.
Robert sighed. "How much will you pay me?" He asked pointedly.
"Five crowns a month." The Sheriff said.
Robert laughed. "Ten." He challenged.
"Six!" The Sheriff huffed.
"Six? Huh! I can do much better in Pocklington working for myself!" Robert exclaimed. "Eight." He said folding his arms.
"Seven crowns. That is my final offer." The Sheriff said evenly.
"Eight." Robert grinned. "I'm really very… good." He winked.
"Seven!" The Sheriff snapped.
"I'm damn good." Robert said, his blue green eyes narrowed knowingly."
The Sheriff drew an audible sigh as he shook his head. "You had bloody well better be! That is almost the same wage as the Officers of my Black Knights!" He snorted. "Fine. Eight crowns a month. But you had better not disappoint me." He said, irritated that he had so easily given in.
"I shall not disappoint you." Robert assured him. "Now, when do you wish for us to join you?" He asked.
"Come to the castle at dusk. I will have my sentry show you to the dining hall." The Sheriff said.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"You're awfully cheerful this day?" Adam remarked curiously to his friend as they stood watch at the main portcullis.
"Indeed." Drake grinned.
"I haven't seen you…with such a stupid grin on your face since Lady Marian used to come around!" Adam commented.
"Really?" Drake replied sarcastically.
"Aye. Spit it out, mate. What has you grinning? You haven't even complained about your helm yet?" Adam said.
"Mirabelle…" Drake said softly.
"Mirror? What mirror? Are ye quite yourself, mate?" Adam asked with his gray eyes narrowed curiously.
"I have been courting a lovely, very fair maiden." Drake announced with a grin.
"You? Well, who is she then?" Adam prodded.
"Lady Mirabelle. She is so enchanting." Drake said.
"I hope you told her whom you work for." Adam quipped.
"Indeed. She knows all about it. But it doesn't matter to her." Drake said.
"You're jesting." Adam said, astonished.
"No. She cares for me anyway." Drake grinned.
Adam clicked his tongue against his palate a few beats. "Poor, misguided maiden." Adam teased, shaking his head.
They could hear the sound of a horse's hooves approaching. They looked up. It was Lady Rhiannon.
"Milady Rhiannon. You have returned." Drake greeted her.
"Yes." Rhiannon said. She looked around "Where is Luke?" She asked them.
"He was sent to Nettlestone, milady. He should be back soon." Adam said.
Rhiannon nodded. The portcullis raised and she eased the horse to the stable and handed the reins to the stable master. As she headed to the front entrance of the castle she looked up at the magnificent architecture of the castle. This shall be my home. She smiled.
She saw the page soon after she entered the castle. He had just returned from the village after delivering the message to two of the heralds there. It was up to them to do the rest. He was grateful to find his master had left the castle. The page was eager to rejoin one of his friends, the son of his master's serving wench, Hildith.
"Page!" Lady Rhiannon called after him.
"Milady." The page said. "You have returned."
"Indeed. I need you to go to Madam Oberon's chambers. She is still here at this castle, I presume?" Lady Rhiannon asked. She was suddenly aware that if Madam Oberon thought the wedding was called off – as it had been, she may have returned to her manor outside of the village.
"Aye, milady. Madam Oberon is still here. She serves the Lieutenant's wife you know." He pointed out.
"Oh, right. I had forgotten." Rhiannon said. "Anyway, I should like to meet with my wardrobe mistress to discuss the details of my wedding gown. Tell her I shall visit her in one hour hence." She instructed the page.
"As you wish, milady." The page relented. So much for meeting with his mate for the chess game they had planned. His master would return soon. There would be no time for games when the Sheriff returned. He dutifully went on his way, and cursed his father once more for selling him to the Sheriff four years ago.
Rhiannon continued down the hallway well past the meeting rooms of the main level – the Council Quarters, the Sheriff's Office. She approached the stairwell that was just on the right. She picked up her skirts and was minding the stairs so she didn't see her coming. Suddenly a voice shrieking through the air startled her. She stopped and looked up.
"Oh… my…god. Am I dreaming?" Lady Meridwyn shrieked in glee as she came down the stairs toward her friend. "You're back? For good?"
"Indeed I am, my friend." Rhiannon smiled. The two embraced then continued up the stairs.
"I have so much to share with you, Meridwyn. You best sit down with a cup of Mortianna's batwing tea when I tell you all I need to share." Lady Rhiannon hinted as they headed together down the north wing to the Sheriff's private chambers.
"More than the fact that I'm hoping your coming back here means your wedding to the Sheriff shall be taking place after all?" Meridwyn asked.
"Indeed. Much more than even that." Rhiannon winked.
"So you are marrying the Sheriff?" Meridwyn asked.
"You better believe I am." Lady Rhiannon grinned.
A short time later they were inside the chambers. Lady Rhiannon sent the sentry to Mortianna's lair to request the batwing tea for her friend. The ladies took a seat on the small couch in the den.
"Well? What is it you must tell me? I'm bursting to know!" Lady Meridwyn exclaimed.
"You shall be an aunt as well." Lady Rhiannon blurted.
"What? You are with child? Oh, that's marvelous, Rhiannon!" Meridwyn exclaimed.
"Indeed. And uhm… something else."
"Yes?" Meridwyn pressed her.
Just then Mortianna came into the den holding a cup. Lady Rhiannon smiled at her and nodded to Meridwyn.
"I'm most grateful someone enjoys my batwing tea." Mortianna remarked as she handed the cup to Lady Meridwyn.
Meridwyn took it gratefully then Mortianna returned to her apothecary. Lady Meridwyn took a sip then looked up at Rhiannon. "Well? Tell me!" She demanded.
"You know that man who was supposed to hang yesterday but didn't?" Rhiannon asked.
"Yes. That was the strangest thing I ever witnessed, Rhiannon. Shame you weren't there to see it. They shall be talking about it for years to come! I've known the Sheriff for years as you know and trust me – he has never stopped an execution!" Lady Meridwyn exclaimed. "Hmm. That prisoner – I wonder whatever happened to him after –"
"He is my brother." Lady Rhiannon announced.
Lady Meridwyn narrowed her sky blue eyes as she studied her friend. "What?" She asked quietly.
"That man, the prisoner you saw in the village square yesterday – is my brother." She repeated.
Lady Meridwyn's jaw flew agape.
Lady Rhiannon nodded to Meridwyn's cup. "Take a sip, Meridwyn. Looks like you need it." She added dryly.
"Your brothers are dead are they not?" Lady Meridwyn asked, completely bewildered.
"One is. I thought Robert was too. He pretended to be dead. It's a very long story, Meridwyn. I shall tell you about it some time. I can't go into it now though, because I shall be meeting with Madam Oberon soon. You're welcome to join me, of course." She added.
"Yes. I shall. But… he is your brother?" Meridwyn asked again.
"Yes. You see? I told you I had lots of news for you!" Lady Rhiannon smiled.
"So that's what you meant about your reasons for calling off the wedding before. You mentioned someone from your past had returned, and you were distancing yourself so that his life may be spared. Were you referring to him?" Meridwyn asked.
"Yes. But that was before I thought my lover would actually see him hang." She sighed.
"Well don't think on that, my dear. Think of how he stopped it! My…he is your brother?" Meridwyn said again, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Yes, can you imagine? He is not dead after all! For the second time! You see what I meant about the news? And the best news of all… I shall be marrying my sweet prince." She smiled.
"I'll say you had plenty of news!" Meridwyn agreed. "I must say, Rhiannon, when it comes to you and the Sheriff – neither of you are ever boring." Lady Meridwyn remarked shaking her head slightly in awe.
