An hour later the Sheriff and his men were securing their horses some twenty yards away from the front entrance at Nottingham Inn, which was just outside of the city walls and along the route to London. For that reason it was set in a perfect location and always attracted plenty of business. For the inn seldom offered rooms available, which is why the Sheriff couldn't understand the trouble he had with the innkeeper in the early part of the year in ninety six. The Sheriff shook his head as he remembered it. Moments later they stood at the heavy oak door. The Sheriff banged upon the door using the large iron ring as he had the day before.
Erasmus, the innkeeper answered the knock once again. The stout middle aged man with the balding silver hair silenced a gasp when he looked upon his guests. If the Sheriff was here with his henchman as well as one of his Knights, then this could not be a good sign!
"My Lord Sheriff, what can I do for you?" Erasmus asked in trepidation. "Are you here to see one of the patrons again?"
"In a manner of speaking." The Sheriff remarked evasively with a calculating grin.
"My lord?"
"I am seeking a man whom I believe to be staying at your inn. He has a companion with him I am told." The Sheriff said.
"Oh?" The innkeeper asked.
"The man's name is Hamon, though he might have given you a different name. He's rather unfortunate in appearance. He is rather short, stout, and he has balding, reddish hair. I couldn't describe his comrade, however." The Sheriff frowned. He looked to his Lieutenant. "Curses! Why didn't I ask Luke to describe him to me?" He spat.
"I know whom you mean, my lord." Erasmus interrupted his Sheriff's outburst before Gisborne could reply.
"Where is he?" The Sheriff demanded, his right hand upon the handle of his sword.
"He vacated his room this morning." Erasmus said.
"What of his henchman?" The Sheriff asked.
"They are both gone, my lord." The innkeeper replied.
"Where? Did they mention where they were headed?" The Sheriff asked pointedly as his eyebrow shot north.
"No, sir. They just up and… disappeared. Disappeared without a word…or payment!" Erasmus huffed.
"He's lying!" Gisborne spat. "As usual!"
"What? No! I tell you the – "
"He's sheltering outlaws, sire. Look at him! I say we search the place." Gisborne sneered.
Mordrid folded his arms and nodded. Who was he to disagree?
"You might have a point, Gis." The Sheriff said. "Glad to see you're focused for once." He added with a smirk.
"No, my lord. I am speaking truth! You may search if you insist, but I say to you: the maids found their rooms to be vacated just after dawn." Erasmus explained.
The Sheriff reached over and patted the innkeeper's cheek. "Oh, I would believe you, but there was that time just over a year ago where you tried to play games with me and my tax collector." The Sheriff said slowly, toying with the man as he narrowed his eyes upon him. "You recall, don't you, Erasmus? You almost escaped paying taxes on this cursed inn of yours for the first quarter of the year! If I recall correctly, you came up with some fine stories to lend to your excuses! Hmm, let's see now…" The Sheriff mused as he rubbed his dark beard on his chin. His left eyebrow shot north as he bore into the innkeeper's eyes with his. The innkeeper swallowed as Nottingham continued. "First you said your mother was dying. Next you mentioned you had already given me the tax money. Then you told Gregor that the whole family was dying! Yes! Wasn't it – that they had been sent to a leper colony? As if I wouldn't know that an entire cursed family in my village would require banishment to a leper colony?" The Sheriff demanded, his voice raised a decibel or two.
Erasmus sighed and looked downcast. "My lord." He murmured in humility.
The Sheriff looked to Gisborne and Officer Mordrid. "Search the premises… every cursed square inch of it!" He directed them. "Gisborne, you've seen the cursed insect, so find him and his loathed companion and both of you bring them to me at once – if they are indeed here. I need to stop somewhere on the way back to the castle before my meeting with Galfrey." The Sheriff said.
"Very well." Gisborne agreed.
"After that, you two will report back to me and I'll decide when we're heading into Portsmouth." The Sheriff said.
"As you wish, sire." Gisborne nodded. He looked to Mordrid and they left to begin their task, starting at the last room on their right and working their way to the other end.
The Sheriff looked to the innkeeper once more before he turned to go back to his horse. "You better pray they find nothing, for I've just about had enough of your cursed little games!" Nottingham snarled.
The innkeeper nodded and the Sheriff took his leave.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Sheriff needed to travel to the other side of town to visit the next place on his agenda. As he kicked the midnight black equine and urged the horse into a gallop, he frowned. He knew that cursed, scheming little whore was up to something. He had an idea of what it was but he was going to stop her before she could threaten his forthcoming marriage. No wench was going to dare to trick him and get away with it!
Another hour later he was slowing the horse outside of the brothel. He secured it to a tree a short distance from the door and walked down the cobblestone path that led to the entrance.
The door opened moments later. Madam Birghiva was unsuccessful at concealing her frown when she saw who had come calling. She sighed.
"She has still not returned, the cursed little brat! And if Lord Rothwell comes here one more time – "
"Tell me another story!" The Sheriff spat as he pushed her aside and walked past the threshold.
Madam Birghiva's flaming auburn hair was pinned up upon her head, and the loose tendrils framing her face danced with light as she shook her head vehemently.
"I'm telling the truth, my lord. I wish to God she was back. She's left me in a right predicament around here if the truth be told!" Madam Birghiva exclaimed.
"We shall see about that!" The Sheriff spat as he drew his sword and completely shocked the Madam by heading in the direction of the stairs.
"What are you doing, my Lord Sheriff?" Madam Birghiva demanded as her eyebrow quirked over her fiery amber eyes.
"Taking a look around." The Sheriff said sharply. "You better hope I don't find the cursed little bitch in this fine establishment of yours!" He spat.
"What has she done?" Madam Birghiva exclaimed in astonishment as she ran after him. She was angry with her mistress for abruptly leaving her, but she couldn't fathom why the lass would be hunted down by the Sheriff?
"Suffice to say the conniving little whore tricked me. She poisoned me. It could be argued she made an attempt on my life! I'm sure you can imagine the punishment for that?" The Sheriff added as his eyebrow shot north.
"Aye." Madam Birghiva swallowed.
"Then… I'm sure you can guess what your punishment shall be if you are found to be sheltering her? He added with a knowing smirk as he patted the Madam's cheek.
"Aye – but you shall not find her here!" Madam Birghiva said as she planted her hands firmly upon her hips in defiance.
"You let me be the judge of that." He snarled as he made his way up the stairs.
He found a few rooms to be empty. Next he found an unfamiliar consort to be lazily still sleeping. The indolent little whore tossed her boot at him and he managed to close the door in time. He heard the boot thud against the door a moment later. Next he threw open another door and was greeted by shrieks from a group of half a dozen courtesans who had gathered – half dressed, in one of the wenches chambers. The Sheriff shook his head and slammed the door shut without saying a word.
The next and last two rooms presented awkward circumstances because he found courtesans engaged in acts of copulation with men whom he thankfully did not recognize.
"What the hell do you want?" The feisty blond courtesan in the last chamber demanded when she was interrupted while she took the nobleman's manhood in her mouth. She was kneeling before the man – naked , just as Rhiannon had done for the Sheriff the night before. Nottingham managed to suppress his arousal at the sight before him as he remembered his lovely lady's talented ministrations.
"I'm looking for Mistress Celestria." The Sheriff announced nonchalantly.
"Huh! Aren't they all?" The blond consort sighed as she grabbed her dressing gown from the floor beside her and hastily threw it on. She stood, pulling the pink, oriental silk gown closed around her and walked toward the door as she eyed the tall, dark haired man appreciatively. She grinned when she was less than a foot away from him. "Would she do that for you? What you just saw me do for him?" She smirked as she nodded back to the man who stood behind her near the bed, annoyed that they had been interrupted.
"I'm not here to bed the whore!" The Sheriff spat.
"Sure. That's what they all say! Why don't you come on in and join us, honey? It's been awhile since I've had the pleasure of servicing two handsome devils at once!" She winked with glee.
"Do you know who I am, wench?" The Sheriff demanded.
"Should I?" The consort asked as she eyed him up and down. She folded her arms in front of her, then began to rub her chin as she mused. "Well, you are rather distinguished looking, I'll give you that." She grinned. Then she shook her head. "Hmm. Sorry. No. I don't know you. Why don't you humour me? I could do with a good bit of amusement – what exactly is it that you're supposed to be famous for?"
"I am your Sheriff!" The Sheriff exclaimed in frustration.
"My! Real nobility! What are you doing lurking about in a place like this then? Shouldn't you be attending court or something?" She asked with a devious chuckle.
"Have you seen the courtesan Celestria, or not?" The Sheriff demanded as he rolled his eyes.
"I've never met her. I've only heard of her – from several people, especially that Rothwell character who keeps showing up to ask for her!" The consort huffed. "I am new here. I only just arrived in town five days ago." She added.
The Sheriff shook his head. "And this is the best you can do? Do your parents know where you are?" He retorted as he turned to leave. She didn't look much older than fifteen!
"Wouldn't you like to see what it feels like, handsome?" The courtesan asked him playfully.
"What the hell are you muttering about?" The Sheriff spat.
"What I was doing for…him." The consort said as she nodded to the man behind her. "For you – I would do it for free." She grinned as she eyed him up and down once more. He felt like he was being undressed by her eyes.
"Bah! I know all about it, whore – from a real lady!" He barked as he closed the door in her face and slammed it.
The impetuous whore! The Sheriff was grateful just then that the first and only time he had been touched by a woman as intimately as he had just witnessed was by his Lady Rhiannon. And then another thought came to him. Rhiannon! Curses! I was supposed to see to her before I left. How long have I been gone now? Would she believe my meeting was delayed? No – that shall never work! She is far too astute to trick!
Madam Birghiva stood at the bottom of the stairwell eyeing the Sheriff knowingly with her eyebrow quirked and her arms folded across her chest.
"Told you you'd never find her!" The Madam exclaimed victoriously, and rather brazenly considering whom she was speaking to.
The Sheriff stopped when he was less than two feet in front of her and narrowed his eyes, burning them into hers.
"You shall send word to me of her arrival the very second she steps one foot inside of this cursed business of yours. And if I find out you warned her of the trouble she's in and aided her in any way – your fate shall be the same as hers!" The Sheriff exclaimed sharply. He reached out and ran his guantlet covered right hand along her cheek. "And… won't that be a shame for the gentlemen in the village and surrounding areas?" He snarled as his eyebrow shot north.
"Aye, my Lord Sheriff. I will let you know when I hear anything from her." The Madam nodded.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Sheriff turned his thoughts back to Rhiannon as he rode down the long, winding path toward the castle. If he headed in the opposite direction it would lead him to Sherwood. Briefly, for a fleeting second, he wondered if Locksley ever visited the brothel – or was he too self righteous for it?
He was going to tell her after their meeting with the man who owned the greenhouse. It was time. She needed to know about their son! The child would be half a year old by the time he married Rhiannon. His boy – the nameless wonder! Just like the Sheriff's brother – if he could call him that. Only this would be worse! The Sheriff's son would soon be learning to speak. He shall know he has no name! Nottingham shook his head and sighed. Am I imagining it, or is my life suddenly ten times more complicated that it ever was?
He didn't have any idea what he would say or how he would tell her, but by the time he had his hand upon the handle of the door of his private chamber, he felt very relieved. Like a heavy burden had been lifted from him. He opened the door into his bedchamber and frowned. Lady Rhiannon sat in a chair by the window wearing a chocolate brown, crushed velvet gown trimmed in delicate, cream coloured French lace. Her right elbow rested upon the arm of the chair, her hand supporting her head as she leaned down.
"Oh, my angel. Forgive me, Rhiannon. I completely forgot to come back earlier." The Sheriff began as he walked toward her.
She looked up and to her left to greet him as he came toward her. She looked ashen and was glowing with the beads of perspiration upon her face.
"It's quite alright, my lord. Do not be offended but – I didn't really want to see you anyway." Rhiannon groaned.
"Oh, my angel – that's it then. We're postponing our meeting."
"No." She said. "I can do this, my love."
The Sheriff sighed and looked at her sternly. "It's been longer than two hours, Rhiannon. Looks to me like this is – "
"Going to be one of those special days." She remarked, enunciating the adjective for it facetiously. "It's alright, my love. Trust me. I've felt much worse than this. I'm most pleased that I haven't wretched in one hour!"
The Sheriff shook his head and folded his arms. What he said next almost managed to make Rhiannon laugh and forget the current state she was in – until she realized he actually appeared serious.
"We're getting you fixed after this – I swear to Zeus! I'm speaking to Thomas about it. There must be something that can be done! And if we decide to grant that child of ours a sibling – we shall visit a bloody orphanage!" The Sheriff spat.
"Surely it cannot be like this every time! I should like to ask Harriet Busby about that. How many does she have? Is it six?" Rhiannon mused.
"Seven." The Sheriff replied absently. He put his hand upon her shoulder and crouched down in front of her. "My love, this meeting of ours can clearly wait." He said gently.
"Mortianna's batwing tea helped. I shall have more of it – it's just over there." She pointed to the table placed directly under the mirror on the wall, just ahead of her. "I was just taking a break from it because it was… making me feel rather giddy." Rhiannon blushed.
The Sheriff nodded. He knew there was something about the crone's cursed batwing tea that could make one feel drugged if they weren't careful about the quantity.
"Why don't you tell me your wishes and I'll tell Galfrey about the flowers we require? You stay here and rest and I shall meet with him personally." The Sheriff suggested.
"No. That would never do. I must be a lady and tough it out. I must be strong." Lady Rhiannon said.
"You are strong, my angel. You are a lady… my Lady Nottingham." The Sheriff smiled.
"You haven't called me that in awhile, my lord." Rhiannon said.
"Clearly, I have been remiss." He said as he reached up and smoothed her hair.
She smiled warmly as she fixed her green eyes upon his. He licked his lips surreptitiously. He could get lost her aqua green depths.
"I shall not disappoint you, my love. Do not worry. Now, when do we meet with him?" She asked.
"Probably not for another hour or more." The Sheriff said. "You're certain you are up for this?" He asked one more time.
"Absolutely." She smiled.
"Alright. Then there is something we should discuss beforehand." The Sheriff began.
"What is that?" Rhiannon asked as she took a few deep breaths. Curses! The nausea was returning!
"We have not chosen a date for our wedding, Rhiannon. It might be helpful if I could give Galfrey a time frame so he can obtain the poppies you so desire." The Sheriff said as his eyebrow quirked. "Poppies." He spat. "The symbol of eternal sleep…and death. And you wish to have them present at our wedding feast!" He shook his head, still surprised with her sudden fascination with the curious flower.
"The Romans would argue that to them – the poppy symbolizes the resurrection of life after death. Indeed the Romans use poppies as offerings for their dead." Rhiannon countered.
"How is it you know so much?" The Sheriff asked, astonished at her knowledge.
"I read a lot – thanks to the volumes available in your library." She grinned.
He sighed. "Fine. Poppies it is – God help us all. The day, Rhiannon. We must choose a date for our wedding." The Sheriff persisted.
"Oh. Aye, we never did choose the day." She agreed. She thought on it a moment, then smiled when a thought came to her. "How about Martinmas?" She asked.
"My birthday!" He spat. He shook his head. "You conniving little lass, you! You're determined to force me to celebrate it, aren't you?" The Sheriff smirked.
"Think of it, my prince. It is perfect! It is a time for feasting and merriment – right before the forty days of penance and reflection of Advent." Lady Rhiannon said.
"As if I care about Advent – "
She continued unfazed. "It marks the day where old contracts end. Like new beginnings! That shall be the day that we begin." Rhiannon smiled.
"Well, I suppose in one respect you're correct, because before you came along, my life didn't mean a damned thing." A beat. "My past doesn't mean a thing." The Sheriff sighed.
"November eleventh." Lady Rhiannon smiled.
"Seriously, my angel, your intent is thoughtful but I should much prefer to celebrate our wedding anniversary on a different day!" The Sheriff spat. "It is bad enough it shall be in the same month!"
"November eleventh." Rhiannon repeated.
"A Tuesday!" He sneered. "Why not on a Friday?"
"It will not matter what day we marry, my lord. You are the Sheriff. You can get married any day of the week you damn well please. And you have the power to grant the merchants in the village a paid day off that day, so that they might come and witness this once in a lifetime, auspicious occasion of yours!" Rhiannon winked knowingly.
"Bah! They shall be granted a day off – some of them, but I shall not pay their lost wages!" The Sheriff spat.
"Yes, I know." Rhiannon grinned. "But now that I have your attention, think of this, my prince! The autumn harvest and the autumn slaughter has yielded plentiful results. Our wedding shall be a grand affair. I should say the people in the village shall eagerly anticipate such a grand occasion to mark their Martinmas celebrations!" She exclaimed in merriment.
"Why must you be so clever?" The Sheriff sighed. "Only you could make me consider this, you do know that, don't you?" The Sheriff smirked as he leaned in and kissed her cheek.
"Aye." She said innocently.
"Ah, so you did know! My… sweet, manipulative, little angel. I always knew we were a perfect match!" He chortled.
"Does that mean I win? For I shall persist until I do!" Rhiannon smiled.
He sighed. "I yield… resignedly." The Sheriff said.
"Think of me as your birthday gift." Lady Rhiannon winked.
"A shame you're feeling so unwell, my lady. For if you keep talking like this, the response in me could serve you rather well." The Sheriff grinned seductively as his left eyebrow shot north.
"Fine. Turn around and get me that cup of batwing tea then. For if you keep looking at me the way you are now, maybe we can fit something in before we meet with… what did you say his name was again?" Rhiannon asked playfully.
He stood and carried out her request. He brought the cup to her and as he passed it to her he spoke. "Who cares? Drink, my love." The Sheriff smirked.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
And it was just over an hour later when the Sheriff and his lady strolled toward the Council Quarters to meet with Galfrey. The Sheriff had been notified by his sentry that the man had arrived. As they neared the meeting room he saw his Lieutenant and his Knight walking toward them. Both of his men frowned.
"I take it – that was a no at the inn?" The Sheriff rolled his eyes when he saw their expressions.
"Aye, cousin. The cursed innkeeper was truthful – a miracle, I'm sure!" Gisborne spat. He sighed. "There was no sign of him." He added.
"Nor his henchman." Mordrid piped up.
"I shall speak to you two later about our plans then." The Sheriff nodded in dismissal.
They nodded and continued on their way.
"What plans was that you were referring to?" Rhiannon asked.
"Later." The Sheriff said as he put his hand on the door handle.
"What are you up to?" She asked with her eyebrow quirked.
"I will tell you all about it later, my angel. Perhaps while we dine. Let us meet with Galfrey first. Zeus knows how much time he shall need to get you the cursed poppies!"
"Oh, splendid." Rhiannon rolled her eyes. "You would have to go and mention food to me again, George!" She admonished as her palm flew up to cover her mouth.
The Sheriff sighed and shook his head. "Batwing tea. Batwing tea. There. Does that make you feel better?" He asked. "It worked on you just recently." He teased.
She felt too ill just then to even blush. "I should have brought some in a cursed flask!" Rhiannon spat.
"I'll meet with him, Rhiannon. Go back to the bedchamber if you have the strength to, or else take a walk outside, my angel. The air shall do you some good." He suggested.
"I shall be fine, my lord, if you would stop talking about food and dining!"
"Come then." He said as he led her inside.
Galfrey was a tall, pleasant appearing, middle aged man with curly, auburn hair and kind hazel eyes that twinkled when he smiled. He stood by the window waiting for the Sheriff. A guard waited in the room along with him. The Sheriff dismissed the guard and he and his lady walked toward the man.
"Galfrey! Thank you for coming, friend. I would like you to meet my soon to be bride." The Sheriff said as he brought Rhiannon forward to meet him.
"My lord." Galfrey said as he made obeisance to his Sheriff. He looked to Rhiannon and smiled. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, milady. I am Galfredus Gateron of Nettlestone, but those who know me well call me Galfrey." He quickly explained. He suddenly grinned. "Except for my comedic elder brother who likes to call me Fred." He added with a chuckle.
"That's a good one!" The Sheriff chortled. "Aye, I must remember that!"
"Indeed. I am Lady Rhiannon of the county of York." Rhiannon nodded.
"That is the reason you were summoned. My lady and I wish to hire you to furnish the blooms for our wedding feast." The Sheriff smiled.
"It would be an honour, my Lord Sheriff." Galfrey smiled. "And when is this grand affair to be, milord?"
"November eleventh!" Lady Rhiannon chimed in suddenly and sweetly. She realized if she didn't say anything her betrothed might offer him another date – just to trick her.
The Sheriff folded his arms and frowned as he regarded her. Goddamn the woman! She knows me too well! How did she know? I was going to tell him November seventh! A Friday – as it should be! He shook his head and sighed and cast her a scornful look.
Rhiannon grinned up at him triumphantly.
"Will that be enough time for you?" The Sheriff asked the man.
"Aye, milord. Although, it may depend upon which blooms you desire, or do either of you have a preference?" Galfrey asked.
The Sheriff grinned at the florist and extended both of his hands out toward his lady beside him, as if he were presenting her to him.
She spoke up, perfectly on cue. "I wish for white roses – plenty of them. For they hold special meaning to me where my betrothed is concerned. And I would especially desire white gardenias… and poppies." Lady Rhiannon stated firmly.
"I see." Galfrey mused as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Now do you have enough time?" The Sheriff asked the florist with his eyebrow quirked.
"Hmm. I'm not all that certain." Galfey muttered.
"Told you there would be a problem with the damned poppies!" The Sheriff spat as he addressed his lady.
"The poppies shall not be a problem, milord." Galfrey spoke up.
The Sheriff shook his head. "But – they only grow in places in the Orient, and the Chola and Chera kingdoms do they not?" The Sheriff asked.
"Aye. You are correct, milord. But they are also found growing in parts of Gloucestershire, Derbyshire, and Norfolk. I can get you the poppies – easily. Aye, I have a variety of colours of them available in my greenhouse right this very moment!" Galfrey smiled.
"How many different colours are there?" Rhiannon asked.
"You'd be surprised, milady. They can be white, yellow, red, orange, pink…why, even blue!" He exclaimed.
Rhiannon smiled.
"So, Galfrey, what is going to be the problem then?" The Sheriff asked curiously.
"The gardenias." Galfrey answered quickly and matter of factly.
"I was afraid you'd say that." Rhiannon muttered.
"Indeed. Those are going to a bitch to get a hold of." Galfrey lamented shaking his head.
"Well, I know those flowers are found in parts of the Mali and Moorish empires, but can they not be found a little closer to home?" The Sheriff asked Galfrey.
"No, milord. Our climate would never work. They are exotic and grow in very warm climates. They are found in the kingdoms you mentioned and one other – in a land even farther away than that! I'm told it is paradise there. The Tu'i Tonga empire." Galfrey explained. He sighed. "I'd need a couple of months and a ship that could fly to obtain those blooms for you!" Galfrey exclaimed.
The Sheriff turned to Rhiannon. "My lady, how is it that you're familiar with them? Surely you have never traveled to the Mali or Moorish empires? And certainly not this Tu'i Tonga place!" The Sheriff asked her curiously.
"Father had a comrade who was an explorer. He brought gardenia seeds and roots back with him from the Mali empire and figured out how to grow them in his own greenhouse." Rhiannon explained. "They were exquisite – the purest flower I'd ever seen. A fragrance so sweet and pleasing it cannot be described, but they were delicate. I touched a bloom once and soon after the petals turned brown." She said.
"Aye. They will do that, milady." Galfrey said. "A poor choice if ye were planning to decorate your hair with them. One touch by curious guests who'd never beheld their beauty before, and your headpiece would have been ruined!"
"Aye. And that is why I had another choice for that." A beat. "But we shan't tell him what that is." Rhiannon said to the florist as she nodded toward the Sheriff.
"Why don't I just leave you to it then?" The Sheriff suggested. He looked to Galfrey. "You see… clearly, I don't have a say." He winked.
"That would be fine, milord." Galfrey nodded.
The Sheriff turned to Rhiannon. "Are you sure you're up for this, my angel?" He asked her softly.
"Yes, my prince. Go. I won't be long." She whispered.
"I'll wait for you in my office, my angel. Get the sentry outside of the door if you need him – for anything. Or better yet, I shall have him stay with you in here while you speak to the florist." The Sheriff said.
"Can you not trust anyone, my lord? I shall be fine! Go." She nodded.
The Sheriff turned back to face her before he exited the Council Quarters. "Uhm… not too many poppies, alright, my angel? We don't want our guests falling asleep at this… Martinmas celebration!" He smirked.
A/N - Yeah, imagine - an author's note from me! For a long time I didn't want to say anything as it's hard to say much without spoiling the story, but here I am. We're nearing the end of this tale now, but there is still some surprises in store. Is the Sheriff correct about his perception of danger to his Lady Rhiannon, as was discussed in Chapter 66? Will Homely Hamon get her, or will something happen with this pregnancy of hers? Or...both? The answer to that mystery will be revealed soon. What is Mistress Celestria up to? Well, we can't have everything all glorious and rosy in Nottingham, can we? Speaking of courtesans, I must mention, after proofreading for errors I was reminded to say this. When I mentioned the young blond consort, I toyed a few minutes with the age I would say the Sheriff said she looked to be. (The purpose of mentioning that was that the Sheriff is now beginning to look at things with new eyes, and in fatherly terms. *wink*). In fact, maidens often married back then before the age of fifteen, so in fact, she would not have been considered to be a child at fifteen years of age. But, because we've come a long way since, I could not in good conscience say that she appeared to be younger than that, even though it would work for that time. The idea of it, even though it would be more believable if we could enter a portal and travel back to this time, just gave me the creeps too much to be rather frank about it!
Thank you to the followers of this story that has become dear to my heart. I hope you enjoy the remainder of our little journey!
~*Donna*~
