The following morning, the Sheriff was at Luke's chambers to check in on his best Knight. Thomas held the door for him and beckoned him inside.

"How is he, Thomas?" he asked.

"He seemed to be doing better last night. I left him for a time and returned just after the servant was leaving him. He seemed better then, but — "

"Wait a moment. Servant? Why would a servant be seeing him at that time?" he asked, with his eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

"Because… you sent her, Milord."

"I did no such thing! How long was she here?" the Sheriff demanded.

"Two hours. She showed up just as I was stepping out. When I returned two hours later, she was just leaving. She said her name was… what was it?" Thomas muttered. A moment later it came to him. "Yes. She said her name was Eva."

"Right!" the Sheriff scoffed. "Let me guess. She is young, fair, blonde and blue eyed, correct?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact." Thomas nodded.

"How did he seem after she left?"

"Just tired — "

"Oh, I bet!" the Sheriff sneered.

"He was slightly warm, but improved from earlier. Today, he is a little tired, and still feels warm to the touch. Warmer than last night, however." Thomas said.

"I'm going to see him." the Sheriff announced. He didn't stop to give Thomas an opportunity to argue with him.

He walked directly to the bedchamber doors and knocked. Luke called out that whomever was there could enter.

The Sheriff opened the doors and stepped inside, closing the doors behind him. Then, he stood a moment with his arms folded, leaned against the doors, as Luke regarded him, curiously.

"Good morrow, Milord." Luke greeted him.

"Oh, I'm sure it is. Is that an afterglow I'm detecting?" Nottingham asked facetiously, with his eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

"Excuse me, Milord?"

"I heard you had company last night." he said with his eyebrow quirked, knowingly.

"Thomas was here — "

"Don't even try to lie to me, Luke. It doesn't suit you, and you're quite bad at it. We both know Floria was here." the Sheriff said as he sharply exhaled.

"Yes, she did come by to visit." Luke sighed.

"For two hours! Two people can accomplish quite a bit in two hours time, Luke." a beat. "So, how was it?"'

"The visit? It was fine, Mil — "

"You bedded her, didn't you?" he asked, directly.

"What?" Luke asked, incredulously.

"I'm no fool, Luke. Just tell me the truth of it. You fucked her, didn't you?"

"Do I look like I'm able for that, Milord?" Luke sighed, shaking his head. "If that should ever happen, it won't be while I'm in my sickbed. And, I don't appreciate you using that sort of language in regards to her, Milord — if you'll pardon me for saying so. You speak of her as if she's still a consort. She is not." he added.

"You're telling me that she was here for a whole two hours, and you… didn't touch her?" the Sheriff scoffed.

"We kissed. Then we spent the rest of our time together just talking." a beat. "Don't you have the Town Council Meeting to get to?" Luke sighed.

"It's still early yet. And, stop deflecting, Luke. You're sure it never went beyond that?" the Sheriff pressed, with his eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

"She visited me. We talked a lot, and we kissed. Nothing more. I swear it." Luke said.

"Well, I'm relieved to hear that. Sort of. But, I can see we'll have that to look forward to in future." he muttered, facetiously.

"You know, the fact that you even asked me that question just proves how little you know me." Luke said. He sighed softly, shaking his head.

"What are you talking about?"

"I like Floria. Very much. But, the truth is, being with her… it's great and everything, but it feels… oddly wrong, too."

"Yes, because you know perfectly well where I stand on the matter." he said.

"Actually, it's mostly because… I still love Emma." Luke admitted.

The Sheriff walked closer to the bed and reached out with his hand. For a second, Luke thought he was about to slap him, and he flinched; but the Sheriff merely put his hand to Luke's forehead.

"You're burning up again, lad."

"I feel fine, Milord?" Luke shrugged.

"Let this be a lesson to you. You toy with poison, and this is what you get for it." Nottingham said, firmly.

"Yes, I… already know this." Luke muttered.

"Is that true? What you said about your former lady love?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes. I still love her. I'm still besotted… with a ghost. How the hell do I make that go away? Because bleeding me isn't helping it. Even nibbling on the leaves of that cursed foreign plant wasn't helping it." Luke sighed.

Nottingham stood a moment, a little stunned by Luke's admission. But, the more he thought about it, the more he understood. He couldn't imagine that he would be interested in another if something were to happen to Lady Rhiannon. He took a seat in the chair beside the bed.

"I imagine that the only thing that will help is time, Luke." he said.

"But, how much time? Years and years?"

"Only you will know. I suppose it's different for everyone."

"Every night since, when I'm drifting off to sleep I think of her. I imagine she's here with me. For nearly a year and a half, this is how it's been." Luke said, as he blinked away a tear from his eye.

"Luke, you're too young to be… like this. You've your whole life ahead of you. Perhaps you should ask yourself: would Emma want this for you?"

"She probably wouldn't, but who cares what she thinks? She can't think anymore because she is dead. She was killed, and I was left to sort through this mess." Luke said.

"I suspect the biggest part of your problem right now is that your vulnerable to… emotion. Your body is weakened. But, you'll be recovered soon. Once you're feeling better physically you'll be less susceptible to bouts of… melancholia." the Sheriff said.

"I hope that's true." Luke muttered. "Forgive me. I shouldn't have said so much. This is my problem to work out."

"It's quite alright. But, speaking of alright, you're clearly not alright. So, I'm going to step out and have a word with Thomas." the Sheriff said as he stood from the chair.

Luke nodded, and the Sheriff went out into the den to speak to his personal physician.

"He's burning up again, Thomas." the Sheriff announced.

"Hmm. He was warmer than last night when I checked in on him earlier, but not as you describe. I need to bleed him again. There's no other choice. I must get this fever under control." Thomas said.

"Understood. I need to get to a meeting. I'll have Isabelle summoned to assist you."

"Good. I was going to request her assistance, anyway." Thomas nodded.

"Tell Luke I'll come by later to check on him. There's a number of things on the agenda, so it won't be until afternoon."

"Very well." Thomas said.

The Sheriff took his leave, asked a sentry to summon Isabelle to Luke's quarters and then headed toward the stairs.

There was a knock on the door of the Sheriff's private chambers. Rhiannon couldn't imagine who it could be, unless her betrothed left something behind that he needed for the Town Council meeting. When she opened the door she was startled to see who was standing there before her.

"Good morrow, Lady Rhiannon." Nichol said.

"Oh. Good day." she nodded.

"I was looking for George. Is he here?"

As he stood before her, Nichol began to understand what drew his friend to her, initially. She was quite alluring to gaze upon. Fair of complexion, soft green eyes, full sweetheart lips, and shiny sable tresses, along with a comely figure. Nichol sighed. Too bad that was all he could find appealing about her. She was a little too smart mouthed and insolent for Nichol's taste.

"You just missed him. He left a short while ago. He needed to check on something, then he has the Town Council meeting." she said.

"Right. I'd forgotten about that." Nichol sighed.

"I thought you might be in attendance?"

"No. That's private business. I'm only a guest in the castle." he said.

"That's fine. I'd like a word with you anyway, but not in here. Give me a moment." she said as she went back inside.

She returned soon after, wearing her cape.

"Am I to expect another tongue lashing, Milady?" Nichol said as they began to walk down the corridor.

"No." she said.

"Where are we going?"

"The balcony." she announced.

"Ah! So that you can throw me over it?" Nichol teased.

"It'll just take a moment." Rhiannon sighed.

Soon, they walked through the door that led out to the balcony. Rhiannon went and stood by the parapet looking over it, down into the courtyard. Nichol stood a few feet away from her.

"I apologize for my behaviour last evening. I was rude to you, and it was uncalled for." Rhiannon said as she turned to face him.

"It's fine, Milady. I understand your intentions. It was rather endearing the way you spoke up for him; although, I would wager that would take some getting used to for him." Nichol said, his eyebrow raised, knowingly.

"Indeed."

"I didn't come here to cause problems for him, or anyone. It took me years to come to this point — where I could reveal myself to him."

"Why did it take so long?" Rhiannon asked.

"I was the Captain of the Black Knights, his Lead Investigator, his Counsel, and his best archer. It took me a long time to learn how to walk on this leg of mine." he began, as he pointed to his left leg. "I was no use to him anymore. For many days, I was being tended to, but it was precarious for a time. That's the short of it, and I thought it was just a wise move to… stay dead." Nichol said, then looked downcast.

"You were more than just your roles to him. You were his dearest friend." she pointed out.

"Yes. And, friends don't expect friends to take on the burdens of… an injured and ailing friend." Nichol said, flatly.

"You're not ailing now? You seem quite hale to me."

"I am, but my leg causes some limitations." he said.

"I'm sure that wouldn't matter to him. You still have your overall health, and your mind. I'm sure that's how he sees it." Rhiannon said, confidently.

"It is. He asked me to be his second Advisor and to oversee training with the Black Knights." Nichol said.

"And, you accepted?"

"No. I'm thinking about it."

"But… what is there to think about?" she asked, rather bewildered.

"I'm not the man I used to be." Nichol said, simply.

"That sounds like something only you can reconcile with. If George saw it the way you do, he wouldn't have offered you those positions. I think others have more confidence in you than you have in yourself." Rhiannon opined.

"I know my capabilities better. The confident ones you mentioned speak from a place of hope, using hollow platitudes. But, I know from experience" Nichol muttered.

"You should consider his offer, Nichol." Rhiannon suggested.

"That's fascinating, coming from you. I thought you hated me?"

"I don't. I don't know you well enough to form an opinion of you."

"You could have fooled me, Milady. Yes, you've apologized, but last night… I thought you did."

"The same thing was done to me, Nichol. Someone very close to me led me to believe he was dead for two years. It was a shock. Twice the shock. Because, I grieved for him… hard. And then, another shock when I discovered he faked his death, too." Rhiannon said softly, then looked downcast.

"Who was this person to you — if you don't mind my asking? A former lover? Family?" Nichol asked.

"Not a former lover. George is my first and one true love. It was a family member. My… brother." she answered, as she looked up into his vivid green eyes.

"Not… Robert?" he asked, shaking his head slowly.

"Yes. It was Robert." she nodded.

"But… why?"

"It's not my story to share, Nichol. Robert had a very good personal reason for doing so, as it turned out. He did it to protect me, and that's all I can say about it at this time. You understand?"

"Of course. I didn't mean to pry. It does sort of explain your reaction when George introduced us last night." Nichol said.

"I shouldn't have projected my emotions onto you, Nichol. People make choices, thinking they're acting in the best way. Your reasons for doing… that, are very different from my brother's. I regret speaking to you the way I did." Rhiannon said.

"It's fine. I'm pleased for you and my friend. We've known each other since we were lads. I've never seen him as content as he is now. I suspect a lot of that has to do with you."

"That is very kind of you to say. From the way I hear it, though, he made a lot of changes all on his own before we met just over a year ago. I had nothing to do with that part. That was all him." she said.

"His face illuminates when he speaks of you. I can tell you that no woman has ever elicited that kind of response in him." Nichol smiled.

"I appreciate you saying that. I don't doubt his devotion to me. We've endured quite a bit in the last year. Many obstacles, and unplanned… occurrences. All that did was bond us closer together." she said.

"I see." Nichol said, then cleared his throat. "It looks like rain is coming, Milady. Perhaps I should escort you back to the private chambers?"

"Yes. Perhaps that is best." Rhiannon said as she subconsciously held her ribs.

"Are you alright, Milady?"

"It's just a few broken ribs. They're healing, though." she blurted, forgetting for a second whom she was speaking to.

"What? How… who did this to you, Milady Rhiannon?" he asked, unable to shake the Investigator part of him that never left him.

"There was an accident last week. I was pushed down a flight of stairs. It was George who found me." she said.

"If you were pushed, that was no accident. Who would do such a thing?" Nichol seethed.

"It's a long story, Nichol. I don't know if George hinted of anything to you, but there is a lot that you missed."

"He mentioned something to the effect that he would need a sennight to catch me up on things."

"Indeed. That sounds right on point, frankly." Rhiannon sighed.

"Will you be… alright?" Nichol asked.

"Yes. I'm bandaged, and I have opium in the chambers. I'll take a drop of it when I return."

"Then, I had best get you back there. We need to get you feeling better. You're marrying George on the morrow." he said as he offered his arm to her.

She took his arm, gratefully, and he escorted her back inside.

The meeting was just beginning in the Council Quarters. The Sheriff sat at the head of the table, with Gisborne seated to his right. He glanced once more to something he noticed when he entered into the room — a small rectangular wooden box that was sitting on a table by the fireplace. He wondered why it was there, and where it came from? He would ask Guy and Robert about it later.

Guy leaned in to Robert who was seated to the right of him.

"Prepare yourself, Robert. These Town Council meetings can be quite tiresome." Guy whispered with a sigh.

"Yes. So I've been told." Robert whispered.

Present at the meeting along with them were the Scribe; Aldred, from the dungeon; Drake, who was excused from his duty in the search mission to attend; Gregor, the tax collector; the Town Crier; Samson Fingle, the bow craftsman; Matheus Busby; and a young man none of them recognized, who said he was a new merchant in town.

"This meeting is now called to order, gentlemen. The first order of business is an introduction. To the right of my Lieutenant is my newly appointed Advisor, Robert Wordsworth. He is also the new Chief Blacksmith in the armoury." the Sheriff said.

The men introduced themselves to Robert, all except for the new guy who sat quietly, looking at the table, the hood of his cloak pulled up over his head — oddly. Robert nodded and greeted each of them. The Sheriff couldn't help but notice how out of place the stranger appeared, and how peculiar he was acting.

"First thing's first, since we have important business to discuss." the Sheriff began as he looked to the stranger who was present at the meeting. "Whom might you be? I've never seen you in town before, and you've certainly never been present at our meetings." the Sheriff said sternly, with his eyebrow quirked, suspiciously.

"Yes… Milord. I… I'm new… in town." the young man stammered.

"You don't say!" the Sheriff chuckled. Then he straightened his expression immediately. "That still doesn't answer my question. Who. Are. You?" he asked, more gruffly this time.

"Right. I… I am Toby… Roth — Rogers." the young man said, then he looked down to the table, keeping the hood of his cloak up.

"Toby Rothrogers. Now, there's an interesting moniker!" the Sheriff chortled.

Drake looked over at the man, suspiciously. There was something familiar about his voice. He took a moment to study him, and then it dawned on him.

"Milord Sheriff?" Drake asked.

"Yes, Drake."

"Can I have a quick word with you outside the chamber? It's… important." Drake implored him as he nodded in the newcomer's direction, while looking in the Sheriff's eyes.

Nottingham was prepared to deny Drake's request, but he could tell that he really did have something pressing to tell him, and it seemed to have something to do with the stranger.

"Very well. Give me a minute, men." he said to the rest who were gathered.

The Sheriff and Drake arose from their seats and left the meeting room together. Once outside the door, the Sheriff spoke.

"What's this about, Drake?"

"Milord, I think I know whom that man is — and you're not going to like it." Drake began.

"Really?" he said as he folded his arms. "Who is he?"

"I didn't realize it until I got a look at his face, and heard the stupid handle he gave himself. Milord, that's Tobias Rothwell. Son of the slain Thurstan Rothwell. That man inside there… " Drake said as he nodded to the door of the meeting room. "… was here with his uncle a sennight ago looking for Luke. I don't know how he got past the portcullis? Adam and I told Emory and Castor to be on the lookout for them. This Tobias bloke must have snuck in somehow!"

"The sodding bastard! Good thing you told me now, Drake. The last thing we need is him in there being privy to any of our business! Good catch."

"What shall we do?" Drake asked.

"He's come to the right place. The dungeon is just below us." the Sheriff smirked.

The Sheriff turned and opened the door, then he motioned for Guy and Aldred to see him outside the door.

After the door was closed behind them, they looked to the Sheriff, curiously.

"It seems we have a traitor in our midst." the Sheriff said, nodding to the door.

"The man in the cloak, I'm guessing. He's certainly peculiar. Who is he, Cousin?" Guy asked.

"That's one of the raging Rothwells, Gis. The son of the fool whom Nichol killed. The same one whom, along with his uncle, came here looking for Luke's blood." Nottingham said with a knowing gaze.

"Wait a minute. Did you just say Nichol killed the bloke's father? Nichol… who? Surely you can't mean — " Aldred began, shaking his head, but was interrupted.

"Indeed, Aldred. Our Nichol, the former Captain. He has returned. Turns out, he wasn't dead after all." the Sheriff said.

"Wait. What?" Aldred asked, astonished.

"It's a long story, Aldred. Perhaps Nic can fill you in sometime. Right now, we need to deal with that Rothwell fool. He was here to gather information!" then he addressed both of them as he continued. "I need you two to grab him, and take him directly to the dungeon. Do it now." he ordered them.

"Of course, Milord." Aldred nodded, though still confused about the report of the former Captain being alive.

Gisborne nodded and the four of them returned to the meeting chamber.

"Gentlemen, we have a slight problem to take care of before we continue." Nottingham announced to everyone present. Then, he looked to the two men. "Gisborne. Aldred. You know what to do." he said.

They both nodded and stood behind Rothwell's chair.

"Get up!" Gisborne snarled, as he yanked the man's chair from the table, with him still seated on it.

"What? There must be some mistake?" Tobias Rothwell pleaded.

"There's no mistake. You are under arrest, by my order. Stand up, you pathetic little sod!" Nottingham bellowed.

Rothwell reluctantly stood from his chair, and the two men quickly got hold of him. Then, they dragged him out of the meeting room as he shouted obscenities at the Sheriff.

"My uncle shall hear of this. My father was Lord Rothwell!"

"Tell us another story! He was no more a Lord than the hind end of my horse." Nottingham smirked.

Finally, the door was closed, and Nottingham took his seat; while the shouting outside the door began to slowly fade.

"Right. Are you going to tell us what that was about?" Gregor asked.

"Indeed. That certainly added some excitement!" Samson said.

"That man and his uncle think that one of my Knights slew their relative just over a sennight ago. They have it wrong. It wasn't one of my men. It was my former Captain who killed the bloke." the Sheriff said.

"Your… former Captain, Milord Sheriff? Are you… quite yourself? Nichol Burgess is — " the Scribe was interrupted.

"It turns out, Nichol is not dead, but alive and… well. He is crippled slightly, but he's looking hale. Prince John brought him to see us last night. He'll be staying for an indeterminate length of time in his former chambers." the Sheriff said.

The Scribe's jaw fell agape slightly, as he slowly shook his head in disbelief.

"It's true, Percival. A bunch of us met with Nichol last night." Robert said.

"I see." the Scribe muttered.

"Well, that's certainly an interesting way to start a Monday." Matheus said.

"So, the man was arrested because he's upset that his father was killed? Have I got that right?" Gregor asked.

"He was arrested because he and his uncle threatened one of my Knights, one of my top men — based on assumptions. The man who was slain was caught in the act of attempting to violate another of my new staff, by Nichol. So, no loss there. Any other questions, Gregor?" the Sheriff said firmly, with a quirk of his brow.

Gregor shook his head.

"Good! Moving on. There's good reason he had to be dealt with immediately. What I need to speak about, we can't have any malcontents being in the know. This is highly sensitive information." the Sheriff hinted.

"I see. What is it you'd like to speak about, Milord Sheriff?" the Town Crier asked.

"I'll get to that, Cerdric. Once Guy and Aldred return we'll talk about that. My Lieutenant is aware of this, but Aldred needs to know. Let's start with the usual beginning of the month business, shall we?" the Sheriff said, as he turned to Gregor. "You've collected the taxes by now, correct?"

"Yes, Milord." Gregor nodded.

"Good. Show them to me." he said.

The men, led by Duke Farnsworth, were travelling the Great North Way headed into Sherwood to see if they could come up with any leads to indicate the escaped prisoner had retreated to the Forest. Ancel was dubious that they weren't just wasting their time. It was clear that Hamon was leading them on a wild goose chase. He guided his horse to advance beside the Duke's.

"I'd be quite surprised if we found him in the forest, Captain." Ancel said.

"So, what then? You're saying we're wasting our time?" Duke Farnsworth asked.

"Of course, I can't say that for certain yet without a thorough sweep; but, I'm telling you, Captain, he is not equipped to handle living in the forest without the help of another." Ancel replied, confidently.

"We haven't checked the forest yet — based on your assessment of this, Ancel; but… what if you're wrong? Don't we owe it to the Sheriff to at least take a look before we propose another suggestion?" Mordrid asked.

"Of course, we do." Ancel said. "I just have a gut feeling about this, despite what that witch woman told Luke and Drake at the tavern on Friday. Why we're paying heed to someone who claims to be able to smell a stranger's emotions and character traits is mystifying. It defies all logic." he sighed.

"We will split up once we're closer to Hood's former outlaw camp. We'll complete a thorough search of the camp and a good portion of the perimeter. If that turns up nothing, then you can opine on where we should search next." Duke Farnsworth said.

"Very well." Ancel said.

"I will take further suggestions from you into consideration after we've completed a search near to the former outlaw camp. We're nearly there, Ancel." the Captain added.

"Of course, Captain." Ancel nodded.

But, Ancel couldn't shake the feeling that Hamon was long gone, despite the ramblings of a raven haired witch.

The Lieutenant and Aldred had returned to the meeting, reporting that the new prisoner had been secured in an isolated cell by Joseph.

"Did we miss anything of importance?" Guy asked his cousin after they were seated.

"No. Just the collection of taxes by Gregor, and a report from Matheus that Cyrus Massacriar is trying to pass off horse and donkey meat as beef in his butcher shop." the Sheriff sighed.

"Donkey?" Guy muttered, astonished.

"It goes beyond that, Milord." Samson hinted.

"Really? How?" he asked.

"There's been reports that some of the meat he's been selling isn't fit for consumption." Samson said.

"What?" the Sheriff asked, slowly.

"I've heard this, too. I recommend to anyone I know to just do their own hunting, and dressing themselves rather than risk illness buying from him." Matheus said.

"Not to mention the savings to their coin purses." Cerdric, the Crier added.

"Hmm. Sounds like we need to check on this fraudulent shop of his." the Sheriff said.

"Indeed, Cousin." Guy agreed.

"Alright. We'll be sure to drop in on Massacriar's fraud shop in the coming days. The next order of business has to do with the current state of lawlessness. I'm hearing reports of a resistance being formed in town; and, I can tell you that in the last sennight we've had a waylayer show up to assault a guard on duty at the portcullis, and the Rothwell duo who came by the day after that seeking the blood of one of my top men." the Sheriff said as his eyebrow shot north in a knowing gaze.

"What do you suggest be done to gain control, Milord?" Aldred asked.

"We are going to start a City Watch. Following a recruitment and vetting process, certain men who are residents of Nottingham will be granted privileges to detain and arrest those who are causing major disorder in town with their lawless acts. Offences like thievery, property destruction, assault, rape, murder plots. We need to get a better handle on what's happening outside the castle walls. My men do their best, but they can't be everywhere." the Sheriff said.

"That sounds fair. Will these members of the City Watch be compensated for their work?" Matheus asked.

"Yes. I presented the idea to Prince John last night. He fully supports the plan, and is sending a missive to the King about it. There will be funding to pay the men in the City Watch. Prince John is confident that the King will embrace and back this initiative." he said.

"I think the plan is a good one, Milord." Samson nodded.

"I agree. What steps would you like us to take to get the plan in motion?" Matheus asked.

"Keep your eye out for suitable candidates for the role. So far, I have the name of one man in town who would reportedly be a good candidate. I need more than one man, obviously." the Sheriff said.

"May we know whom the man is for consideration, Milord?" Samson asked.

"Of course." he said. Then he looked to Drake. "Tell them, Drake. Perhaps some are familiar with him?"

Drake nodded, then looked to the men.

"Slayer, the security man at the tavern. From my observations, he is well equipped to handle just about any situation." Drake said.

"I know who you mean." Matheus said. He looked to the Sheriff. "I'd agree with that assessment, Milord."

"Good. So, that's potential candidate number one. If you think of anyone, or come across anyone whom you think would be an ideal candidate for the role, submit their names to myself, or any one of my men. The candidates must be in good physical and mental condition, with no history of crime. They need to be trustworthy, and if they have experience fighting, that would be a plus." Nottingham said.

The men from the Village nodded in agreement, and each said they would do what they could to assist in finding suitable men for the roles of City Watch.

"Very good. I think that covers everything, then." the Sheriff said.

"Really, Cousin? Isn't there another part to that you wish to mention?" Guy asked.

"No, Guy. There is no other part to that. That's all there is to say about it." the Sheriff said, firmly. He looked to the men present. "This meeting is adjourned."

The Sheriff took a moment to speak to Samson about bringing his archers to see him. Samson agreed to it and soon took his leave. After everyone left, and the only ones present in the room were the Sheriff, Guy, and Robert, Guy posed a question to his cousin.

"Is there a reason you didn't mention the use of espials, Cousin?"

"Yes. Think about it, Gis. What good is it utilizing spies when too many people in town know about it? We'd never get anywhere!" a beat. "I told you this on Tuesday evening when we visited in my chambers, and you agreed. How do you not remember that?"

"I… think I was distracted. You didn't look well at all." Guy muttered.

"Indeed. So distracted you couldn't think straight." he sighed.

"But, how would we know who we can trust to fulfill such a role?" Guy asked.

"Good investigative work, for starters. What good is it to announce it? You know some of those men would go home to their wives and possibly tell them about it. Perhaps their friends and neighbours. Next thing you know, the whole town will be whispering that I'm using spies. We must remain secretive about that part of it. So secretive that not even members of the City Watch would know who the spies are. There's no use having espials if people know about them." the Sheriff pointed out.

"Right. That makes sense. I guess I just assumed it would be mentioned at today's meeting."

"Everything requires careful consideration. We can't reveal our tactics to just anyone, Gis." he said.

"Of course, Cousin. It was remiss of me not to consider it." Guy said.

The Sheriff nodded. Then he looked to Robert.

"You may recall from Saturday's meeting there was mention of a newcomer in town who claims to have inherited an estate." he began.

"Yes. The strange woman that Drake and Luke spoke about meeting in the tavern." Robert nodded.

"I've seen the documentation. The name of the Barrister listed on it is Ranulf Verdun. I'm leaving it to you to find out if there is such a person, and if he really is a Barrister. Then you need to find out the legitimacy of her claim on that estate, if there really is one." the Sheriff instructed.

"Very well. It would help if I knew the name of the heir."

"Gunilda Hayward." he said.

"And, whom is the supposed deceased man who bequeathed his estate?" Robert asked.

"Gamel Hayward."

"Right. I'll check into that. Hopefully, I'll have a report for you by the end of the day." Robert said.

"Indeed. Now, do either of you know what that box is doing on the table by the fireplace?" the Sheriff asked as he nodded to his right.

"I brought it, Milord." Robert said.

"Interesting. And, since it's just the three of us, you don't need to be so formal, Robert." Nottingham said.

"Indeed." Robert nodded.

"Right. So, what's the purpose of that wooden box, Robert?"

"It's about what's inside of it… George. It's as you specified." Robert said.

"Excuse me?" he asked, genuinely.

"Rhiannon's wedding gift. As you requested." Robert smiled.

"Ah! Yes. Bring it to me. I wish to see it." the Sheriff directed.

Robert stood from the large table and walked to the smaller one near to the fireplace. He picked up the small rectangular box and brought it to the Sheriff, placing it on the table before him.

The Sheriff opened it. The box was lined in royal blue velvet and the gleaming dagger was contained within. The blade appeared to be forged of Spanish steel. The hilt was gold and decorated with diamonds, sapphires, and a few rubies, set carefully into the gold. The initials "R. N. W. N." were engraved in fancy script at the top. A simple Celtic cross decorated the pommel.

"Robert, this is… exquisite." Nottingham said softly, as he picked it up gently to take a closer look.

"I know you mentioned she also fancies pearls, but it made no sense to add such a soft delicate stone into the hilt." a beat. "Pearls would never last." Robert explained.

"Very good work, Robert. I think she'll like it." Guy smiled.

"I know she will, Gis." Nottingham said. Then he looked to Robert. "Explain the initials. I'm assuming the first N refers to her middle name? I don't think she ever told me her middle name?" he said with his eyes narrowed.

"Yes. That is her monogram — rather, it will be. Rhiannon Nicola Wordsworth Nottingham." Robert said.

"How is it possible that her name could be even more pleasant sounding than it already was to me? Where did Nicola come from?" he asked.

"Our father's name was Nicolas. It's a variation of his name. He chose her given name, and our mother chose her middle name before she was born. They had names chosen for a boy, as well." Robert explained.

"Interesting. I like that idea. Rather fitting since it seemed she was close to your father." the Sheriff remarked.

"Exactly. He was good to us all, but she was definitely doted on." Robert grinned.

"I'm pleased, Robert. I think she's going to love it." he smiled.

"There's something to think about in the future, Cousin." Guy said.

"What's that, Gis?"

"Well, should you be granted another daughter in future — you could call her "Georgina"… or, something similar. "Georgette"?" Guy mused.

"Aren't you the one who's convinced your child who is currently gestating is a girl?" the Sheriff said with a quirk of his brow.

"Yes. What's that got to do — "

"Perhaps if you're right, you could call her "Guyena"? You know… like hyena?" the Sheriff laughed.

"That would be a no. My name wouldn't work as well as yours. She shall be Eve Elizabeth." Guy smiled, ignoring the joke.

"We shall see, Gis." the Sheriff said. He cleared his throat and looked to Robert. "I want you to keep this in your quarters until I'm ready to present it to her. I don't want to risk her possibly finding it."

"Of course. I will keep it safe for you." Robert nodded.

Rhiannon had just descended the stone circular steps that led down into Mortianna's apothecary. She was responding to the tiny bells that pealed on the wall in the den. She was there to inform the witch that her betrothed was unavailable to see her at this time.

"Mortianna?" Rhiannon called out.

The witch responded in moments. Her skirts rustled along the stone floor as she moved into view.

"He's at a meeting just now, Mortianna. You know his days are full. I'll tell him you're looking for him when I see him late — " Rhiannon began, but was interrupted.

"I didn't summon for him, child. It's you I wish to speak with." Mortianna said.

"I… I don't understand? Does this have… something to do with… occurrences that are meant to thwart our wedding plans… or something?" Rhiannon asked, suddenly trepidatious about being summoned at all, and by the timing of it.

"Not quite, Milady. But, I have something to impart to thee."

"You only summon when you have portents, Madam." Rhiannon pointed out.

"I'm not in the habit of sharing portents, or any requests when they involve another. I've only done that once, and that was when ye requested I give you a potion to erase a memory. I told your betrothed. This time, the situation is reversed. By revealing this to ye, it will help you both." Mortianna said.

"Alright." Rhiannon shrugged. "I'm concerned about the timing, Mortianna. Is… George in trouble?"

"No, Milady. But, I need to share something with ye from information I've gathered from portents from days ago, and from yesterday and the present time." Mortianna said.

"Very well." Rhiannon agreed.

"Come child. We haven't much time if ye wish to make a difference. I have quite a bit to share. Some of it may… shock ye, but we must get started." the witch said as she beckoned for the lady to accompany her.

Rhiannon nodded and followed her to the small table Mortianna indicated. She noticed an empty cup placed upon it. She took a seat, and the witch sat across from her and began to share the important points of what she had learned.

A short time later, the Sheriff was seated in his office waiting for Gunilda to show. He instructed Drake to bring her there when she arrived. He was regretting that he had arranged this meeting. Besides discussing the plans for Celestria he was still debating about mentioning anything else. Like, the part where he was loosely considering speaking to her about taking on the role of espial, since he hadn't had a moment to mention her to Rhiannon. The timing was completely wrong. He was marrying his lady on the morrow. Now was not the time to mention a former lover to her — if he could classify Gilda as such. To him, she was a plaything that he could also converse with, but there was no emotion attached, beyond lust. He wouldn't have seen her come to harm, but he didn't love her. He never tasted that until Rhiannon entered into the picture.

He was reviewing the Scribe's notes from the recent Town Council meeting, attempting to distract himself, when there was a knock on the door.

He got up from his desk and went to the door to open it. Drake was standing before him.

"Lady Gunilda Hayward is here to see you, Milord Sheriff." Drake announced, as he nodded beside him.

"Thank you, Drake." he said. Then he looked to Gunilda. "Come in." he said.

He indicated the chair at the desk across from his. She took a seat, and he went behind the desk and resumed his place in his chair.

"Have you decided on your position regarding my stay in Nottingham, Milord?" Gunilda asked as she lowered the hood from her emerald green velvet cape.

"That is dependant on a couple of things." he answered, evasively.

"Like what? Yesterday you discovered I was genuine with my answers to your questions." she pointed out.

"Yes. Fortunately, for you." he said.

"And, you know, I have no romantic interest in you."

"So you say, but, that obviously couldn't be verified by my Counsel." he said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Of course. Then, you'll have to go back in time. Can you recall a time that I was deceitful?" she asked.

"Not from then, but that's many, many moons ago. You did pass yourself off as another woman entirely, and the aunt of a murderous whore, however. Just over a sennight ago. So, there's that." the Sheriff said, firmly.

"I explained the reasoning for that." Gunilda sighed.

"The validity of your claim on your supposed uncle's estate needs to be verified." he added.

"So, my stay is pending the result of that… and a discussion with your betrothed, no doubt?" Gunilda asked, unabashedly.

"Your stay is pending. That is all you need to know." he said, firmly.

"Perhaps you have forgotten that I mentioned that I can be of use — "

"Why, Gilda? Why would you propose such a plan? What would you get out of it?" he demanded.

"The opportunity to add some excitement to my days. My abilities could be useful to the right people — "

"For the right price, no doubt." he said.

"I have no ulterior motives, Milord."

"So you keep saying." he sighed.

"Well, you think about that, then. In the meantime, have you decided how to proceed with Celestria?"

"The little bitch should have burned in that sodding abandoned manor!" Nottingham sneered. Actually, the cursed foxglove should have worked! Why couldn't she have just died then? What a bleeding waste of time that day was!

"I understand your anger. She didn't, however. So, how do you wish to move forward?" Gunilda asked.

"Silly little wretch just keeps on surviving — like a bleeding cat with nine lives. I'm of a mind to send the little bitch to a leper colony. That will teach — " Nottingham was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

"For the love of Zeus! What the hell is it now?" he muttered. "Not now! Go away!" he called out.

His demand was met with more loud knocking.

"Curses!" he muttered.

Nottingham arose from his chair and went to the door. He was stunned to see who greeted him when he opened it.

"Rhiannon, what is the urgency?" he demanded in a whisper. "I'm in the middle of a meet — "

"This will just take a few moments, George. Trust me. You might even thank me later." Rhiannon said with her eyebrow raised. Then she boldly stepped into the office, walking past him.

"What the… ?" he muttered, shaking his head in exasperation, as he reluctantly closed the door.

Gunilda turned around, curious to see what the interruption was about. She quirked her brow curiously, when she caught sight of the comely green eyed lady.

"You must be… Lady Gunilda." Rhiannon said as she walked closer toward the raven haired woman.

The Sheriff was stunned, and speechless. He stood near the closed door, watching the scene unfold with his eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

"Uhh… indeed. And, whom might you be?" Gunilda asked.

"I am Lady Rhiannon. I am his betrothed." she said as she nodded behind her, indicating the Sheriff.

"Right. Coming to stake your claim over some perceived threat, I imagine." Gunilda sighed.

"And, why would I do that? You think I'm jealous over a fling that took place a century ago? If he wanted you that much, he knew your address." Rhiannon scoffed.

"What the bleeding hell is going on here?" Nottingham demanded, incredulous that Rhiannon appeared to be fully aware of his past history with Gilda. How?

And then, it came to him.

Mortianna! How dare she disclose such a private matter with Rhiannon! Why would she do this? Doesn't she get that I'm the only one standing between her and and a burning stake?!

"Just let me say my piece, George. I only need a few moments." Rhiannon said as she turned to face him.

"If you're here to cause trouble, there's no nee — "

"Trust me, my love." Rhiannon winked. Then she turned back around to face his former lover.

"My! She's a fiesty one, George!" Gunilda smirked, nodding to Rhiannon. "I like that! Got to admire a woman unafraid to speak her mind, and exercise her right to personhood."

Nottingham shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"I know about the sordid past between you and my betrothed." Rhiannon said.

"I gathered that. Although, I don't know about sordid. We were only engaging in a little merriment. Nothing more. Nothing less." Gunilda said.

The Sheriff folded his arms and began to shake his head, slowly — partly in anger, and partly in awe.

"But, I also know that there's nothing between either of you now; and that you possess some talents that he might find favourable regarding his leadership of this county, moving forward." Rhiannon said.

"Perhaps, but I'm beginning to change my — " Gunilda was interrupted.

"As long as you banish any foolish notions of daring to divert his devotion from me; if you have a talent that can be used to assist him with his duties, then… I support it." Rhiannon sighed.

"What?" Nottingham asked, slowly.

"Go ahead, George. Tell her about the role you were considering for her." Rhiannon said, completely astonishing him.

"My lady, what in the dev — "

"Now, wait just a minute. This kind of drama — I don't need. I refuse to be his puppet!" Gunilda said firmly, as she abruptly stood from her chair, and faced the Sheriff's lady.

"Well, that's a pity for you — because he's very good at pulling the strings." Rhiannon said with a knowing quirk of her brow.

The Sheriff's eyes widened at that comment. He wasn't certain yet if it was the result of disbelief — or ire.

"So, you did consider what I said when I told you I could be useful to you." Gunilda said to him.

"I was still considering it." he sighed.

"In what way — in particular?" Gunilda asked. Then she looked to Rhiannon. "Do you know? You must." she sighed.

"I don't know what exactly he had in mind. I only know that he was considering you for something that would serve his political agenda." Rhiannon said. Then she turned back to face her betrothed.

"I was, but there's one or two things that must be verified first." Nottingham said, firmly.

"Can you enlighten me further? What did you have in mind for me, Milord?" Gunilda asked.

"You were right, Gilda. True, you were only a plaything to me back then — "

"Ouch!" Gunilda smirked as her eyebrow raised.

"We both know it was only a passing fancy." he said, firmly.

"Alright. I can concede with that. Do continue."

"I never caught you being deceitful back then. I might not have loved you — but I could trust you." he said.

"Okay?" Gunilda asked, as she shrugged.

"I need a few espials in this town. Lawlessness has gotten out of control, and disorder is imminent if I don't take measures to stop it. Once I've properly vetted you, of course, that is a role that you could potentially be useful for." he said.

"Hmm. Interesting." Gunilda smirked.

"It would present some risks if you were found out." the Sheriff pointed out.

"I'm quite inured to living a life of secrecy. I must for the sake of survival." Gunilda reminded him.

"Yes. You do raise a good point." he sighed.

"Do what you will. Verify what you must, then come back to me about it, as long as she is agreeable." Gunilda suggested as she nodded to his betrothed. Then, she looked to Rhiannon. "I like you, Lady Rhiannon. I approve of this match between you, from what you've shown me so far."

"Give me no reason to distrust you or your motives, and I will reciprocate, Lady Gunilda." Rhiannon said.

"Indeed." Gunilda nodded.

"Very well. I will follow up with this discussion after the vetting has been completed." the Sheriff said, still stunned by how this potentially disastrous meeting had turned out.

"Very good. I won't keep you." Gunilda said as she walked toward them on her way to the door.

"Wait. There's one more thing." Rhiannon said.

"Yes?" Gunilda asked.

"And, what could that possibly be?" Nottingham sighed.

"I understand you have Celestria under your wing?" Rhiannon asked her.

"Uhh… yes?" Gunilda asked, curiously.

"Rhiannon, what in the devil are you up — " the Sheriff was interrupted.

"Good. Keep her on ice. I'm going to kill that bitch." a beat. "And that is not an idle threat. It's a promise." Rhiannon said, evenly.

Both the Sheriff and Lady Gunilda looked at her with their eyes widened in astonishment at what she had just said.

"Very well. Duly noted, Milady. Thanks for… a very entertaining meeting." Gunilda smiled at them both on her way out.

After the lady left the room, the Sheriff turned to Rhiannon and studied her a moment before he spoke.

"I'm sure you have — " Rhiannon was interrupted.

"My lady, I'm still deciding what I feel more inclined to do in this moment: kiss you, slap you — or fuck you?" he said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Why don't you keep those things in back of your mind for the next time we're alone?" a beat. "Told you I like it when you're rough." she smirked, salaciously.

"Rhiannon… " he muttered, shaking his head in awe once more. "You astonish me consistently. Now, surely you weren't serious about the… slapping part?"

"It's only a slap. That might feel nice. You slapping my bottom while you're… thrusting inside of me."

"Keep talking like that and I'll tear that pretty gown from you and take you right here." he growled.

"Save that for later, sugar." Rhiannon said as she went to him and embraced him.

"My beautiful angel." he sighed as he smoothed her silky tresses and kissed the top of her head.

She pulled away a little and looked up into his eyes.

"She's really quite attractive." Rhiannon said.

"My eyes only see you, Rhiannon." he said, softly. "It was close to twenty years ago." he added.

"I know. Mortianna summoned for me."

"So much for discretion! I wanted to be the one to share this with you." he huffed.

"But, there's something you don't know… or, wouldn't remember. Mortianna saw you on Wednesday. The purpose was for her to administer your next dose of belladonna. She pretended to summon you for portents. The problem with that was, she did gather some new information. She saw Gunilda in the tea sediment. She saw her as being someone who could be invaluable to you." Rhiannon explained.

"What?" he asked as he pulled away to look into her eyes.

"Mortianna shared this with me, to remove the burden from you, so that you could make a sound decision without any friction coming from me."

"And… what was your reaction to this news?"

"I wasn't shocked. You're older than me and had a long life before me — "

"I'm not that old, Rhiannon." he sighed.

"I know. I was concerned at first that she was staying in Nottingham, until Mortianna assured me that neither of you have any romantic interest in the other. You've hinted to me that things are getting out of hand in regard to lawlessness, so if Gunilda was able to assist in any way, I needed to come and meet her — and set your mind at ease." Rhiannon said.

"I suppose I'll forgive the crone — this time, but she'd better tread carefully in future." he muttered. Then, he cleared his throat. "Anything else to report, my lady?"

"Yes, but it has nothing to do with the meeting you… we just had." she said.

"I see. What is that?" he asked.

Rhiannon pulled away then walked to the desk and sat on it, facing him.

"I saw Nichol earlier."

"Oh. What happened there?" he asked.

"He came to the private chambers looking for you. We went out to the balcony to talk, and I apologized to him." Rhiannon said.

"Thank you, my lady." the Sheriff smiled.

"There's no need to thank me. I was out of line and made a fool of myself. But, I couldn't help but think back a couple of months to when I discovered that Robert was truly alive, when I had mourned him." she said.

"Yes. That's understandable."

"I briefly explained that to Nichol. That Robert pulled the same stunt."

"I'm sure Nic had questions about that." he said.

"He did, but I told him it wasn't my place to explain Robert's reasoning, only that his reason was a good one, too."

"So, things are better now? With you and Nic?" he asked as he walked toward her.

"Yes."

"I don't need to be concerned that the next time you meet, you'll try to stab him, or something similar?" the Sheriff smirked.

"No, George. He's your friend." Rhiannon sighed.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." he smiled.

"The last thing I ever want to do is embarrass you. I must conduct myself in a manner suitable for the wife of an appointed official. I… forgot about that last night. I'm sorry, George." she said.

"My lady, you've already apologized . There's nothing more to say about it." he said as he stopped in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Very well. Now, you must assure me that you won't go off on Mortianna." Rhiannon said.

"Rhiannon, you know very well that there could have been disastrous consequences. If you hadn't reacted so calmly, our wedding might have been called off." he said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"I could see it if she were to tell me about a woman you were currently entangled with, or someone you've been seeing on the sly in the past year. If that were the case, Mortianna wouldn't have shared it with me. When she looked in that cup, she weighed the pros and cons of it and proceeded, keeping the best interests of both of us in mind." Rhiannon explained.

"I can't be concerned that she'll divulge secrets in the future. That was a story I wanted to personally share with you." he said.

"It was nearly twenty years ago, my love. What happened then matters not today." a beat. "Don't be harsh with her."

"I'll think about it." he said. He removed his hands from her shoulders and stepped away as he continued. "And, how do you think you'll accomplish the task of killing the whore?"

"You doubt me, George?"

"No. I believed every word and that you've given it thought; but, plans can go awry, Rhiannon. Exhibit A last week was your first clue. She's not going to just stand there for you. She's going to defend herself." he said.

"I shall be well prepared and catch her off guard." Rhiannon shrugged.

"And, you'll need back up." he said.

"I can handle the bitch." Rhiannon said, nonchalantly.

"She could have killed you a sennight ago. Or, must I remind you? She's one of the reasons we lost Sela."

"Exactly. Which is why I want her dead, not to mention everything else she's responsible for."

You don't even know the half of it, my lady. He thought. He looked downcast. He could never tell her how the whore poisoned him, and tricked him into believing he was intimate with Rhiannon, when, in fact, it was that cursed little whore!

"George?"

"You will have back up, Rhiannon. There's no way I'll let you pursue this alone." he said.

"But, Geor — "

"I'm insistent on this point, Rhiannon. Things can go very wrong. Look what happened to Nic — my best archer at the time? He nearly died, and now he's crippled for life. I will never let you go off alone to complete this mission of yours. Never!" he said, firmly.

"I want to be the one to take care of it." she muttered.

"That's fine. I have no problem with that. But you will not be alone. I will have your back. Understood?"

"Very well." Rhiannon sighed.

"You must promise me, Rhiannon." he said as he stared into her eyes.

"Very well. I promise." she nodded.

"Is that a real promise, or a fake one said just to appease me?"

"I promise you, George. I'm not happy about it, but I promise that I won't do this alone." she said.

"Good. We'll take care of the cursed little bitch soon." he smirked.

"What's on your agenda now? Anything?" she asked.

"Nothing pressing. Why? You planning to remove that pretty frock for me?" he chuckled.

"Patience, my love. No. But, we need to practice our dancing… for tomorrow."

"Oh. It's just… all of that talk earlier of thrusting and slapping… it stirred me." he winked.

Rhiannon jumped off the desk and grabbed his hand, leading him to the centre of the room.

"Then keep thinking of those things on the lead up to tomorrow night. For now, we dance. I'll hum the melody." she smiled.

"I'd rather tear off your gown, and take you on the des — "

"It's our wedding tomorrow, sugar. We are going to dance." she said, firmly.

"Very well, my lady. Lead the way." he smiled.

An hour later the Sheriff was taking the notes from the Town Council meeting back to the Council Quarters to place inside a desk there. As he approached the meeting chamber he ran into Nichol.

"I heard you were looking for me." the Sheriff said.

"Ah! So, you've spoken to your betrothed, I see." Nichol said.

"Yes. She told me she apologized."

"Indeed. It became a little more clear once she explained things from her perspective."

"You mean the matter with Robert. Yes. His reasoning makes sense — I hate to admit." the Sheriff said.

"Not sure what it would have to do with you, but… I'll take your word for it." "Nichol shrugged.

"You shall have to. It's Robert's story to share." a beat. "So, what did you want to see me about?"

"Tonight is your last night as a bachelor." Nichol smirked.

"I suppose. To be honest, my last night was on a Saturday in September of last year."

"Whatever. Some of us have planned something for you."

"What?" the Sheriff asked, curiously.

"Yes. What's so surprising about that, George?"

"I hate surprises." he sneered.

"I know. Which is why I'm telling you now. We thought of taking you to the tavern, but, it seems like a… seedy place for a Sheriff."

"Indeed." he muttered. "Come. Let's finish this conversation inside." the Sheriff said. He moved to the door of the Council Quarters and held it open for Nichol.

Once they were inside the room with the door closed the Sheriff put away the notes from the meeting, in the desk drawer where he kept such documents, and they continued their conversation.

"So, where are we going?" he asked.

"The Prince's manse." Nichol grinned.

"Really? He's in on this?"

"Yes."

"When did this come up?"

"When you were speaking with your betrothed last night following our introduction. Guy and Mordrid said they wanted to do something for you. Prince John offered to host it at his manse." Nichol said.

"How many of the men heard about this?" he asked.

"It was a side conversation between the four of us, and Robert. None of the others heard as they were engaged in their own discussion." Nichol said.

"Good. And, I appreciate that. But, to be honest, I'd rather do it when Luke is able for it. I can't imagine a celebration with my men without him." he said, then he looked to the floor.

"It's true. You really are fond of him?"

"I am."

"George? What exactly is wrong with him?" Nichol asked.

"It would feel like a betrayal to share it; however, in this case, it might serve him well." the Sheriff hinted.

"You sure he has nothing contagious?"

"Very sure."

"Well? Are you going to tell me?"

"He took a poison that he thought would improve his performance." the Sheriff said, simply.

"Oh." Nichol muttered, sombrely.

"Right? As if we haven't been down that road before." Nottingham said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"I see." Nichol said, softly.

"It was because of you that I put it together."

"Perhaps he'll feel well enough to join us?" Nichol mused.

"Doubtful. I saw him before the Town Council meeting. Thomas was preparing to bleed him when I was leaving."

"Well, that's unfortunate. You shall only have this opportunity once in your life, George. Perhaps you should look in on him again? He may be feeling a little better after the bloodletting?" Nichol suggested.

"I will be checking on him. I highly doubt he'll be fit for the journey, though. I'm hoping he'll be fit to work for me tomorrow. I'd rather he rest up for that." the Sheriff said.

"So, you're squashing an evening of merriment because one of your — "

"Luke is my best Knight, Nic. He's not just one of the men, he's one of only three of my top Knights."

"I see. Perhaps we could take him in a carriage?"

"I know he wouldn't go for that. Can't blame him. None of us would agree to that." the Sheriff said.

"If we're changing the venue we need to let Prince John know. He wants to be there."

"Why can't we do this another night?"

"Because after tomorrow you'll be married. Today, you're unmarried. See the difference?"

"You planning to have whores there? You can forget it. Those days are long gone, Nic." the Sheriff said, firmly.

"The idea is to have the celebration prior to the wedding day, George." Nichol sighed.

"I'd forgotten how argumentative you can be. If you were the Duke standing before me proposing this idea, he would have dropped it the moment I said I'd prefer it if Luke could join us." the Sheriff huffed.

"And, what have you got against whores all of a sudden? You're not married yet. Who are you, man? And, what did you do with my friend?" Nichol joked, with a shake of his head.

"Really, Nic? After I've told you some about my lady. That I would die to protect her? Maybe I grew up since you saw me last. No woman has caused this reaction in me before, because none of them were right. She's the right one, who came along at the right time." he said.

"Really? Did you stop having fun, too?"

"There's no time for fun and leisure in my world, Nic. There hasn't been for a long time. You will not foist whores onto me. Got it?" the Sheriff said with his voice raised this time.

"Jesus, George. I was only jesting. Yes, I got it. As if there'd be a bunch of whores at the Prince's manse!" Nichol scoffed.

"Ha! Tell me you don't know the Prince very well without actually saying the words." Nottingham said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Really?" Nic asked. "But, he's married, isn't he?"

"Do you think he actually gives a flying fig about his wife, the Countess? Do you think any married man who frequents the brothel gives a damn?"

"I… just assumed. He married her, for God's — "

"He couldn't give a tinker's damn. He's not even bringing her tomorrow. Says he'll have more fun without her."

"But… why the hell did he marry her?"

"Because he's a Royal, Nic. The marriages are arranged. He's expected to produce heirs. How do you not know this?" the Sheriff asked, shaking his head.

"I suppose I just never thought about it, and didn't care enough to look into it. That could present a problem if he's dallying with whores — "

"I'm sure he has mini Prince Johns all over the land, but they'd never be recognized as his heir. Who cares, anyway?"

"Why are you so testy, friend?" Nichol asked, impatiently.

"Because you've missed a lot in the last three years, and it shows." the Sheriff sighed.

"Right. Back to the original topic. What about tonight?"

"I don't know. I need to think about it. I've got somewhere I need to be right now, Nic." he said as he walked to the door.

"Well, don't think too long about it, George. I shall need to send a message to the Prince if you cancel." Nichol said.

"Indeed." the Sheriff said.

"Think about it, George. Don't be such a bore." Nichol said as he followed him to the door.

The Sheriff opened the door and held it for Nichol. As Nichol was walking through the doorway, he spoke.

"You think I'm boorish now?" he asked.

"Maybe not quite, but you're way too serious now, man. You really need a bit of merriment to loosen you up a bit." Nichol said.

"We shall see. I'll let you know my decision shortly." the Sheriff said dismissively as he took leave of him.

The men had fanned out in pairs covering the entirety of Hood's former outlaw camp and the perimeter. Ancel and Adam were checking through the camp. Adam went to search the remaining bunks that were still there, while Ancel went over to check the campfire area.

After a time, Adam caught up with Ancel.

"Anything?" Ancel asked.

"No. No sign of him. No clothing, no supplies, nothing." Adam said.

"No sign of a recent campfire, either. The wood ash is cold and some of it is damp. I found nothing on the grounds to indicate anyone had been here recently." Ancel said.

Just then Gerad and Alex were approaching them.

"Was there any kill inside of Locksley's Larder?" Ancel asked them.

"There's some kill there, but I'm guessing it's been hanging in there since you were here, Ancel." Gerad sighed.

"It's awful in there. That meat is rancid now." Alex said with a grimace.

"He hasn't been here. It's very clear." Adam said.

"I thought as much, but we had to check." Ancel said.

"Have you any ideas where he might have gone, Ancel?" Gerad asked.

"I'm thinking he probably left the county. I don't know if he would have returned to Portsmouth. That would be logical, except that he's wanted. The Sheriff knows where to find him there." Ancel said.

"Looks like we'll be sent away on a search mission." Gerad sighed.

"At least the bloke will be easy to find." Alex said.

"Except, he hasn't made it easy since he escaped the dungeon." Ancel muttered, shaking his head.

"All we can do is report this to the Captain. Then we'll just have to wait for further instruction from the Sheriff." Adam said.

"Indeed. There's only so many places he can hide — in this county. It's the other ones that concern me." Ancel said.

"Perhaps he just went to another town?" Adam suggested.

"Let us hope. We have a shot at finding him quicker if he's still in this county." Ancel sighed.

A short time after his meeting with Nichol, the Sheriff was back at Luke's bedside.

"How are you feeling, Luke?" he asked.

"That bloodletting process is… quite nauseating." Luke said, shaking his head.

"So, I take it you're not feeling too much better?"

"It's hard to accurately say, because I've been wanting to retch ever since they came in here to perform it."

"I see."

"I'm sure I'll be feeling fit for my duties on the morrow, Milord." Luke said.

"If you're not, we will manage." he said.

"I will do my best, Milord. I just hope that's the last of that nasty bloodletting." a beat. "How did the meeting go?"

"Productive." the Sheriff said.

"So, members of the Council are on board with the City Watch? That's good news."

"Yes. And, we ended up with another addition to the dungeon populace before we even got started. Thankfully."

"What?" Luke asked, incredulously.

"Indeed. One of the Rothwells tried to sneak into our meeting to gather classified information." he said, with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Oh good. You have him secure for me!" Luke grinned.

"That's the spirit, Luke!" Nottingham chuckled.

"Did you… have an opportunity to speak to your lady about… Lady Gunilda?" Luke asked, tentatively.

"Yes. It's all been sorted." he said.

"So, the woman is leaving town, I take it?"

"No. I shall have her vetted for the role of espial."

"And, Lady Rhiannon knows this?"

"Indeed. She supports it." the Sheriff smiled.

"Wait. She knows of your past history with the woman?" Luke asked, curiously.

"Indeed, she does. And, she still supports it."

"My! That's quite remarkable."

"Yes. Isn't it?" the Sheriff grinned.

"That is quite surprising, Milord." Luke said, still astonished.

"Indeed. She often surprises me. The key seems to be to find yourself a fearless, independent woman, Luke. They tend to… handle things better than other women would."

"I shall keep that in mind, Milord."

"The only two who have ever lasted with me possess both of those traits." the Sheriff said.

"Whom was the other, if I may ask, Milord?" Luke asked.

"Gilda." he said.

"Oh. I see."

"Now, enough about that. Do you think you might feel up to joining us later in the Dining Hall? Some of the men want to have a celebration for me, or some such nonsense."

"When would that be, Milord?"

"Tonight. Perhaps a couple of hours past sundown."

"I will consider, Milord. I should be able for that if I rest between now and then." Luke said.

"Good."

"Why the Dining Hall, Milord? They could take you anywhere you wanted? Wouldn't you rather go out?"

"Would you be fit for that, Luke?"

"Probably not, but — "

"I want you to join us if you're able, Luke."

"Very well. Then, I had better rest, Milord."

"Very good. You rest, and I shall see you later tonight." the Sheriff said.

Then he took his leave.

Soon after he left, the Sheriff saw the Scribe walking the corridor on the second floor.

"Scribe? I need you to find Nichol for me straightway." the Sheriff ordered him.

"Very well, Milord. Do you wish to see him?"

"No. You need to tell him that the venue for tonight has been changed. We shall meet in the Dining Hall instead. Get this message to him immediately so he can notify the Prince in a timely fashion." he instructed.

"As you wish, Milord. I'll look for him now." the Scribe said.

"Make sure you do, because I'm leaving for awhile." the Sheriff said, firmly.

The Scribe nodded, then left to carry out the task.

Rhiannon was just coming out of the private chambers when she saw Floria approaching her holding a small folded parchment in her hand.

"Milady Rhiannon? I've something to give to you." Floria said as she caught up to her.

"What is it?" Rhiannon asked.

"It's a message from Madam Oberon, Milady. She asked me to give this to you." Floria said as she passed it to her.

"I see. Very well." she said as she opened it and began to read it.

"Has something happened? Why would she want to see me again before the morrow?" a beat. "Did something happen with my gown, Floria?" Rhiannon asked, nervously.

"Oh, no. Nothing like that, Milady." Floria smiled.

"Then, why do I need to see her again?" she asked.

"We are wondering about that, too." Meridwyn's voice suddenly startled her.

Meridwyn and Isabelle were approaching from behind Rhiannon. Rhiannon turned around to face them.

"Wait. You ladies got the same note?" she asked.

"Indeed." Isabelle nodded.

"Yes. I can't imagine what this is about?" Meridwyn said, shaking her head.

"It's fine, ladies. Nothing has happened to your gowns. It's regarding details for tomorrow." Floria said.

"Oh, I see. And, she wants to see all of us?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes, Milady Rhiannon."

"Well, we're here now. I suppose we should see what this is about." Meridwyn suggested.

"Alright. Just give me a moment with Floria." Rhiannon said.

The ladies nodded as Rhiannon beckoned to Floria to follow her. They walked until they were a good distance away before Rhiannon spoke.

"I must say you're looking better. Are you… alright, Floria?" Rhiannon whispered.

"Well, yes. It's been awhile since it happen — "

"Time never lets us forgot, Floria." she whispered with a knowing quirk of her brow.

"I'm fine — "

"I apologize for taking so long to ask about your welfare. It's been… a very trying week. Illness. A death in the family. Let's just leave it at that, but that is the reason I couldn't get back to you. Forgive me." Rhiannon said, softly.

"It's fine, Milady. There's nothing to forgive. I'm feeling better. Thank you for asking." Floria smiled.

"You have a kind of glow about you." Rhiannon observed. She wondered if Luke had anything to do with it?

"I imagine it's due to the start of a new, exciting chapter, Milady. I've been working on some new designs. Madam Oberon was most pleased with my sketches and said she'd like to see them come to life." Floria said.

It was true Floria was beginning to enjoy her work at the castle, but she was certain that if there was a glow about her, it was mostly because of Luke.

Rhiannon nodded and they both walked back to the ladies, who were wondering what they were speaking about.

"Let's go." Rhiannon said. She looked to Floria then. "Are you coming with us? Since your rooms are next to hers?"

"You go on ahead." Floria said.

The ladies nodded and went on their way, as Floria began walking in the opposite direction.

A short time later Madam Oberon opened her door to greet the ladies.

"Bon après-midi, mes chers!" she said in her cheery, mellifluous voice. Her pale blue eyes twinkled as she spoke.

"Good afternoon, Madame. We're happy to see you, but a bit baffled as to why you summoned us. The timing has us concerned, you see." Rhiannon said.

"You sure nothing has happened to our gowns?" Meridwyn asked.

"Non. Nothing of the sort, mes chers. But, we do have some finer points to sort out prior to tomorrow. Do come in, s'il te plaît." she smiled as she held the door wide, beckoning for them to come inside.

"What's this about, Madam Oberon?" Meridwyn asked after the door was closed.

"Indeed. I'm curious myself." Rhiannon said.

"There's a few things we must plan if you wish to look your best tomorrow, mes chers." Madam Oberon began.

"Right. The rose petals you gave us for our baths, correct?" Isabelle asked.

"You're on the right path, mon cher. That is part of it." Madam Oberon said.

"What else is there, Madame? Besides you helping us dress and applying those pastes and colours to our faces tomorrow?" Rhiannon asked.

"Firstly, you shouldn't be seen by mon Seigneur Sheriff until the ceremony. At least after tonight, Mademoiselle."

"No kidding. My plan was to have us stay at my manor today, and be escorted to the cathedral for the ceremony. But, then the plans went awry." Rhiannon sighed.

"To the tune of a murderous malefactor, escaped from the dungeon — who's target is you, Rhi." Meridwyn said with a knowing quirk of her brow.

"Yes. That threw a little kink in the plans." Rhiannon said.

"Mon Dieu!" the seamstress gasped.

"It's ridiculous. I shouldn't even be here right now. I should be at my manor preparing for this. I should have been there a long time ago, but every time I turned around I was either sick and recovering, or some fool was running amuck, and he wouldn't let me go back there. I suppose I can't blame him." Rhiannon huffed.

"Certainly not, dearest. He was only protecting you — as he should." Isabelle said.

"Well, I have a solution for that, mon cher." Madam Oberon smiled.

"Really? What is that, Madame?" she asked.

"I'm inviting you all to stay here tonight. We're going to need to get started on your hair, anyway." she said. Then she looked to Meridwyn and Isabelle. "I… doubt you'd want your husbands to see you after I get started on your hair. Of course, tomorrow, once you're primped and dressed for the occasion you may join your husbands. Mademoiselle Rhiannon should stay here until it's time."

"But, that's a lot of us, Madame. There's already you and Marie here?" Rhiannon reminded her.

"Floria has offered to have Marie stay in her quarters, just next door." Madam Oberon smiled.

"But… Marie doesn't speak English, Madame?" Rhiannon countered.

"She has been learning it since she spoke to you about it, mon cher. It's not much, but she can get by. She's been getting along quite well with Floria. They are only a year apart in age, you see."

"Oh. Yes, of course. I'd forgotten how young Floria was for a moment." Rhiannon said. "Well, I think that sounds just fine from my perspective, Madame, but I can't speak for — "

"If you can figure out something to tame my hair, I'm all in." Meridwyn said to the seamstress.

"That's fine with me, too. I'm sure Robert won't mind. He's going to be out late tonight any — " Isabelle began, but stopped herself. She wasn't sure if her sister in law knew about what the men had planned.

"Out late… doing what, Sister?" Rhiannon asked.

"Oh, dear." Isabelle sighed.

"Oh, right." Meridwyn nodded.

"Funny how both of you know what this is about, because I surely don't." Rhiannon said.

"Guy mentioned something about the men planning a celebration for your betrothed, Rhiannon. The Prince offered to host it at his manse." Meridwyn explained.

"Yes." Isabelle nodded.

"Oh, I see. What's the big deal about that?" she shrugged.

"Last I heard about it, your betrothed was unaware. It's supposed to be a surprise." Meridwyn explained.

"Yes. That's what Robert told me, too." Isabelle said.

"That's fine. Except, he hates surprises; but, I won't say anything to him about it." Rhiannon said.

"So, is that a yes for tonight, mes chers?" Madam Oberon asked.

"Yes, Madame. That sounds perfect. Almost as perfect as if we were all staying in my manor tonight." Rhiannon smiled.

"It's a yes for me." Meridwyn said.

"I will accept, Madam." Isabelle nodded.

"C'est bon! Come after you've dined. Bring any jewelry you wish to wear tomorrow. Anything you plan to wear with your gowns. A chemise, boots, things like that." Madam Oberon instructed.

"Very well. We shall see you later, Madame. Merci." Rhiannon smiled.

"Ce n'est rien, Mademoiselle." the seamstress smiled.

There was a knock on the door of Luke's chambers. For a moment he thought Thomas was still out in the den, but then he remembered he left not long ago and said he'd return. Luke sighed and arose from the bed, putting a long black robe on over his tunic and breeches, then stumbled his way out of the bedchamber and into the den.

There was another knock. He sighed again and shook his head. He wasn't liking all of the mollycoddling he'd been getting of late, but it was certainly a plus that someone had always been available to answer his door these last two days. Which was funny to him, because it was seldom that anyone came knocking prior to Saturday night.

He was a little surprised when he saw who greeted him when he opened the door.

"My sweet! What are you doing out of bed?" Floria asked, quite shocked to see him upright.

She was holding a tray. Upon it, there was a bowl, and a large mug, both containing steaming liquids.

"Floria. I didn't expect to see you so soon." he smiled.

"I brought you some things that I think might help you feel a bit better." she said.

"Very well. No one is here. Come in." he said as held the door open for her.

After he closed it, he turned to face her.

"So, what was your plan if someone else answered my door?" he asked.

"What… what do you mean, Luke? Are you cross with me?"

"No. I'm glad to see you." Luke smiled. Then his expression became more serious as he continued. "He knows, my dear. He knows you were here. I suspect the medicus now knows you're not really a servant named Eva, too. If one of them were here, they wouldn't have let you in, I'm sorry to say."

"Why are people so damn difficult? Why can't we be left in peace?" Floria huffed.

"Because we work for him." Luke said, simply.

"Of course, but why can't we do our work, and see each other?"

"That's what we're going to do, Floria. But, your alter ego, Eva the servant, isn't going to work anymore. Just saying." Luke smiled.

"Noted. You're looking tired, Luke. Let's get you back to bed and I'll place this tray on your lap." Floria suggested.

"I won't argue with that." Luke said.

They walked together into the bedchamber. Luke removed his robe and cast it aside, then sat upon the bed. Floria passed the tray to him and he set it on his lap, as she seated herself in the chair beside the bed.

"Alright, it looks like a kind of broth in the bowl, but, what's in the mug?" Luke asked.

"It's hot mead, with extra honey added, and a dash of lemon and ginger. It is great for anything that ails you. The ginger will settle your stomach." Floria said.

"Oh, good. I could use that. The bloodletting procedure makes me feel… rough." he said with a grimace.

"Forget about that, my sweet. Just taste it and let it warm you."

"Very well." he nodded, then began to sip of the mead. He agreed that it had a very pleasing taste.

"Thank you, Floria." he said as he began to take the broth.

"You must keep up your strength. You've been looking poorly these last couple of days." she said, softly.

"Really? I thought I was doing a bit better." Luke shrugged.

"I've definitely seen you more hale than this."

"And, you will again. Soon, my dear." Luke smiled.

"I hope so. Except… " she murmured, letting the words trail off.

"Except… what?" Luke asked, curiously.

"When you're feeling fit, you'll be quite busy. You'll be harder to… find." Floria muttered as she looked to her lap.

"I will make time for you, Floria. Don't give that another thought." he said, softly.

"Of course. It was silly of me to say such a thing. Of course, I want to see you well." Floria said.

"I'm no good to anyone if I were to remain like this, my dear. Not even you. It's true, I will be kept busy, but you will not be forgotten about. This, I can promise you." Luke smiled.

"I know. I guess, I'll just… miss you." Floria whispered.

"I know. But, I can't stay like this, Floria. We'll have a much better time of it when I'm finally recovered. You will see."

"You going to sweep me off my feet, Luke?"

"Perhaps." he grinned.

Richard and Nigel were standing guard outside of Guy's manor in Nettlestone. There was a chair nearby, so Nigel took a seat, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He'd just about had it up to his eyebrows with this interminable, boring assignment.

"Nigel, what are you doing?" Richard sighed.

"Really, Richard? No one is coming. It's ridiculous to stand here all day, day after day, after bleeding day. Don't you think?" Nigel huffed.

"He's not paying us to sit and keep watch. We're meant to stand guard."

"Against what, Richard? Ghosts? We're way out here in the middle of bloody nowhere." he remarked while pointing to the vast property around them. "I don't know about you, but when I joined the Black Knights, I certainly didn't have an assignment like this in mind. Two months of boring, pure codswallop." Nigel spat.

"We have the most important task of all. He trusts us implicitly to guard that child in there." Richard said as he nodded to the door of the manor.

"Aye. I appreciate that he trusts us; but, what the hell, Richard! Two months of child minding. Give me something to stand up for, mate, and you know I'll be the one to best." Nigel said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"True, but… we're meant to be standing up for that child in there." Richard said, nodding to the door of the manor.

"Of course, mate. Trust me, I'm fully aware. The thing is… we're away from the action. You know this." Nigel sighed.

"I thought our training sessions might help put a spark back into you?" Richard asked, curiously.

"Well, yes. Not that you've participated much, but, It keeps our skills sharp." Nigel pointed out.

"I'm happy to train with you, mate. I'm just not sure about that bleeding weird obstacle course you've erected."

"Yes. I figured that." Nigel scoffed. "Even so, I'm not sure what we're training for? It's looking like we'll be minding that boy forever. You know me. I think constant training is important, but it's getting harder to hold on to optimism."

"Did… you do something different with your hair?" Richard asked, suddenly changing topics.

"Can't expect to look the same forever. I mean… I was hoping to get laid again before the year ends, but… fuck!" Nigel huffed.

"I'm sure you'll survive, mate." Richard sighed, rolling his eyes.

Just then, Richard heard horses hooves clopping along the road in the distance.

"Stand up, Nigel. Company is coming." Richard said.

"What?"

"Stop talking and listen! Can't you hear that? Someone is on the road, approaching us." Richard said, urgently.

Nigel stopped a moment and listened. He shook his head and sighed, then stood at attention beside Richard.

Very soon, they recognized the Sheriff, seated atop his midnight black horse. He dismounted and secured the horse, then walked up the path to greet them.

"Good afternoon, Milord Sheriff." Richard nodded.

"Good day, Milord." Nigel said.

"Good day, men. Any trouble out here of late?" he asked.

"No, Milord. It's just the same bor — the same old things every day. Nothing to worry about." Nigel said.

Richard gave Nigel a scornful look, then looked down and sighed.

"Both of you need to be on the lookout for that man in the drawing that you penned, Richard." the Sheriff said.

"You mean… you still haven't found him, Milord?" Richard asked.

"Oh, we found him. Ancel and Mordrid got him. He was detained in the dungeon. The fool lasted about a sennight in there, then he started a bloody fire, during which time he escaped. So, there's that." the Sheriff sneered.

"No!" Nigel exclaimed.

"It's true. Now, that little swine has a target on my lady. Therefore, that also puts a target on my son. I need you two to be vigilant. I don't know how the hell he would figure it out, or how he'd even find this place, but he's on the run, and will be seeking refuge. That alone could land him here." he said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Understood, Milord Sheriff. We will not fail you." Richard said.

"Indeed, Milord. We will keep watch for him and take care of the bastard if we see him." Nigel nodded.

"You will detain him and bring him to me if you see him, Nigel." the Sheriff said, firmly.

"Of course, Milord." Nigel nodded.

"Indeed, Milord. Your instructions were very clear." Richard said.

"Good."

"Have we missed anything, Milord? How is Ancel working out? Do tell him I send him my regards." Richard smiled.

"He's working out very well. I will tell him, Richard. As for news, the only thing I can think of to share is that… Nic is back."

Both of the men were astonished. Their jaws fell slightly agape as he spoke the words.

"Wait. What?" Nigel asked, shaking his head, slowly.

"The Captain? I mean… former Captain. He is… not dead?" Richard asked, his eyes widened in astonishment.

"No. He didn't die. He nearly died, and was incapacitated for a long time afterward. He walks with a limp, however, using the aid of a walking stick. He finally made his presence known to us last night." the Sheriff explained.

"Holy fuck… " Nigel muttered.

"Indeed, Nigel. Many of us had the same reaction." he said.

"How long is he staying in Nottingham, Milord? I hope he's not just passing through?" Richard asked.

"I've offered him two positions. One as my second Advisor, the other as Training Supervisor. For all of you."

"Good. Did he accept?" Nigel asked.

"Not yet. He's considering it." he said.

"Milord, whom is your first Advisor?" Richard asked.

"Robert Wordsworth. For just over a sennight now."

"A wise choice, Milord." Richard nodded.

"Indeed. Robert's a fine bloke." Nigel agreed.

"Glad you both approve." he said as he walked closer to the door.

"Everything in order for tomorrow, Milord?" Nigel asked.

"Yes." he said.

"We wish you well on your nuptials, Milord." Richard smiled.

"Indeed. We do, Milord." Nigel nodded.

"Cheers, men." the Sheriff nodded.

"Does this mean… our assignment here might… end soon?" Nigel asked, tentatively.

"Nigel!" Richard muttered.

"When the time comes the boy will be brought home, you'll be the first to know." the Sheriff said, flatly.

"Of course, Milord." Nigel nodded.

"Something is different about you." the Sheriff remarked, as he narrowed his eyes upon Nigel.

"Really? In what way?" Nigel asked.

"Guess you haven't looked into a mirror lately." Richard muttered.

"Oh. The hair, you mean? It's just… cleaned, braided and tied back." Nigel shrugged.

"It's more than just that. You look… broader. Stronger, or something." the Sheriff said, waving his hand toward him in a circular fashion.

"We keep our skills up with regular training sessions, Milord. When I have time on my own, I do things to improve strength and agility. Like… repeated lifting of heavy objects, and running. Seems to do the trick." Nigel shrugged.

"And, balancing on poles." Richard added with a knowing smirk to his mate.

"Excuse me?" the Sheriff asked, curiously. "What poles?" he took a moment to give a cursory glance around the front of the property, wondering how he missed poles?

"It is nothing, Milord. Just… all a part of my training, is all." Nigel nodded.

"Good for you. Keep at it. Your strength will be needed at some point soon." he nodded.

"Indeed, Milord." Nigel nodded. And, as the Sheriff walked through the door, he muttered, "Thank fuck for that."

"Right. Wait until he sees the bleeding obstacle course. Or, I guess Sir Guy will be more bothered about it." Richard scoffed.

"Ha! At least I'll be ready for whatever comes next. If… there's a next. I'm not holding my breath for it, mate." Nigel sighed.

A short time afterward, the Sheriff was speaking to Lady Margaret at the doorway of his son's room. The child was asleep in his cradle.

"It's good you've come to see him. He's grown quite a bit since you saw him last." Lady Margaret said.

"Tell me." the Sheriff said.

"He's nineteen pounds now, and twenty five inches in length. God knows he has a good appetite. He's eating more of a variety of foods now." she said.

"Like what?"

"Carrots, peas, sweet potatoes, bananas. I purée those for him. He also gets goats milk and a mushy cereal."

"Yes, the last time I was here he wouldn't stop eating. Now, I see he's fast asleep. Is that normal? It's the middle of the afternoon?" he asked, somewhat alarmed.

"Yes. He sleeps quite a bit. He sleeps for several hours at night, and has a couple of naps during the day. He's quite active now, Milord. He's going to be crawling soon. He sits on his own, and can pull himself up to a standing position if he has something to hold onto. I think he's just so busy now when he's awake, he tires himself out. He seems to be faring very well, Milord." Lady Margaret reported.

"Well, that's a relief to hear." the Sheriff said.

"I'll leave you now. Let me know if you need me." Lady Margaret said.

"Indeed." he nodded. Then he walked into the room.

The Sheriff looked down upon the boy who was serenely sleeping in his cradle. A soft blanket covered him, a handmade stuffed bear was within his reach, and his expression exuded pure peace. The Sheriff sat in a chair beside the cradle. He reached out and put his hand on the baby's shoulder.

"You've grown, my boy. Soon you'll be too big for that cradle. Don't you worry. I hope to bring you home soon." he said.

The only sound was the child's breathing.

"We need you home, my boy. Especially now. Once your mother sees you she'll be overjoyed. It's just going to be the three of us for awhile, because your little sister couldn't stay.

"She was beautiful, my son. She kind of looked like you in baby girl form — if that's possible? Hmm. I suppose it is, because now that I think of it, your mother and your uncle are like that. I wished your sister could stay with us, but, this is how it must be. I'm glad you're too small for questions, because… I wouldn't have all the answers. I will always question why Sela had to leave us." he whispered.

The Sheriff looked to his lap and sighed, shaking his head, while he kept his hand on the child's shoulder. He would never understand why an innocent baby girl had to leave this world before she could even take her first breath.

The child opened his eyes and yawned, and recognized his father beside him. He reached out and put his hand on the Sheriff's arm and began to tap it.

"Fah!" the boy said, gleefully.

"Yes, my boy. I am here." Nottingham smiled.

The boy wriggled out from under the weight of the Sheriff's hand on his shoulder. He grabbed his teddy bear and then pulled himself to a seated position in his cradle, waving the bear around as he began to laugh.

"Mil!" the boy exclaimed.

"Dear Zeus! Already? You only just opened your eyes, child." he said, shaking his head.

"Fah! Mil!" the boy exclaimed.

"Alright. I hear you, my son." the Sheriff smiled as he picked up the boy and held him.

The child never let go of his bear. He held the bear in one hand and put the other hand on the Sheriff's cheek.

"Fah!" he laughed.

The Sheriff walked to the doorway, holding his child, and called out for Lady Margaret. The midwife answered the summons in moments.

"Yes? Oh. I see the lad is awake now." Lady Margaret said.

"Mil!" the boy squealed.

"Indeed. It seems he is hungry. Again." he said.

"Very well. I will fetch that for him. Would you like me to take him, Milord?"

"No. It's fine. Where did this stuffed bear come from?" he asked, nodding to the toy in his son's hand.

"I made it for him recently, Milord. Now that he sleeps a lot I have more time in the evenings. He loves it." she smiled.

"Yes, I see that." the Sheriff said as the boy started to chew on one of the ears on the toy. "He isn't at risk of pulling that off and choking on it, is he?"

"No, Milord. They are well secured with plenty of stitches to keep them in place. He is teething still. I'm sure a tooth shall be sprouting imminently." Lady Margaret said.

"I see."

"Best wishes to you and Lady Rhiannon for the morrow, Milord. James and I would be there if we could, of course. Alas, we are kept occupied."

"Indeed."

"He's about to start crawling soon. It won't be long now he may take his first steps, depending on how long you wish to keep him here." Lady Margaret said with a knowing quirk of her brow, nodding to the child in his arms.

"Yes. Every time I visit you tell me something similar, Lady Margaret. And, every time my answer is the same. The timing is wrong." he huffed.

"It's been six months, Mil — "

"We just buried our daughter yesterday." he said, simply.

"Milord?"

"Yes. A lot has happened that you haven't been privy to because you have the most important task of all, besides my two Knights who keep watch at the door." he sighed.

"Mil!" the lad exclaimed, annoyed that the adults weren't paying attention to him.

"I see. I'm sorry to hear of your child, Milord."

"Indeed. Just stay with the plan. The time is approaching where I will explain all of this to Lady Rhiannon. So, no more questions." the Sheriff said, firmly.

"Very well. I'll go and get his milk, Milord. I shall return to you forthwith." Lady Margaret nodded.

The Sheriff took the child back in the room. There was a blanket on the floor near the chair, so he placed the boy down upon it and the boy sat, playing with his teddy. The Sheriff resumed his place in the chair. He began to think again of Sela as he turned his head to glance out of the window at the autumn leaves colouring the tree branches, and some others blowing freely in the wind. He wondered why crimson red leaves made him think of blood, and why did it also make him think of Sela?

As he became lost in his thoughts he soon felt gentle hands on his knees. He looked down, and his son was grabbing his knees, pulling himself up to a standing position.

"Fah!" the boy laughed.

"Look at you, my boy! Well done!" he smiled. He reached down and lifted the boy to his lap and held him.

"Mil!" the boy squealed.

"Yes, my boy. I shall have to warn Jean Louis to keep the kitchen well stocked for your arrival. Zeus help us. Do you ever stop eating, child?"

Robert was down in the armoury checking with Stephanus and Eustace about the Sheriff's new sword. He was pleased with how it turned out.

"This is finely forged, men. I shall show it to Sir Guy to get his opinion. I'm sure my sister will approve, but when it comes to swordplay, Sir Guy will know best." Robert said.

"Indeed, Robert. Milord Sheriff prefers Spanish steel. I'm sure he'll be pleased." Stephanus said.

"It's a nice touch with the family crest inset into the hilt, too. I hope he approves." Eustace added.

"I don't think you'll need to worry." Robert smiled.

"It was a team effort, Robert. We all had a hand in it." Stephanus added.

"Indeed. How are the shields coming? On last count we had four more." Robert said.

"Now, there's an additional two. So, we have a dozen of them ready." Eustace said.

"The quality appears to be as good as the others, Robert." Stephanus nodded.

"Good. I'm sure Milord Sheriff will be pleased about that." Robert said.

Just then, the guard, Borin, appeared before them.

"Yes, Borin. What is it?" Robert asked.

"The Scribe is here to see you, Robert. Shall I bring him in?"

"No, that's fine. I only stopped by to check on something. I'll follow you to the door." Robert said.

Robert met the Scribe at the door and they began to walk together down the hall toward the stairs.

"Were you able to find anything out, Percival?" Robert asked him.

"Yes, Robert. Indeed, there is a Barrister in town with a good reputation. The name checks out." the Scribe said.

"So, there is a Barrister by the name of Ranulf Verdun?"

"Indeed. Now, whether or not that document is real, and not forged by someone using his name is another matter entirely."

"So, you didn't see this Ranulf person?" Robert asked.

"No. I met with his assistant, Ulric. It seems the Barrister had some business to attend to in Clun. Ulric says he will be available on the morrow, but I told him you'd be busy then. Ulric suggested you come by on Wednesday." the Scribe explained.

"Perfect. I shall follow up on it then. Thank you, Percival."

"Of course, Robert." the Scribe nodded.

As they were heading up the stairs, Gisborne was descending them. The Lieutenant looked to the Scribe.

"I need you to follow me." Guy said.

"Very well, Sir Gisborne." the Scribe nodded.

"You weren't looking for me?" Robert asked.

"No. I'm headed to the dungeon. I would like to see the sword, though. Perhaps we could meet after I'm finished in there?" Guy suggested.

"Perfect. I'd forgotten about the new prisoner in there."

"Indeed. I've a few questions for him." Guy said. He looked to the Scribe. "Have you your writing tablet?"

"No, Sir Guy, but Joseph keeps one in the dungeon for me now."

"Good."

"How much time do you need in there, Sir Guy?" Robert asked.

"Hopefully, no longer than a half hour. Depends how forthcoming the little whelp is going to be. I don't want to spend too much time in there. Not tonight."

"Indeed. We should be making our way to Newerche after I show you the sword." Robert suggested.

"Hmm. I guess the Page hasn't got to you yet with news of the change. Addled little runt!" Guy huffed.

"What change, Sir Guy?" Robert asked.

"The venue has been changed to the Dining Hall. My cousin wants Luke to be there, and he didn't think he would be fit for the journey as of yet, especially since Luke is scheduled to be working at the fete on the morrow." Guy explained.

"Right. That seems fair. Was word sent to the Prince?"

"Indeed. Nichol sent a message to him early in the afternoon."

"Very well. I'll meet you in the armoury when you've finished with the prisoner." Robert nodded.

Guy nodded and then he and the Scribe made their way toward the dungeon.

A short time later he was speaking with Joseph.

"How's the new prisoner faring?" Guy asked.

"He's a real live one, Sir Guy. He's been whining incessantly about injustice, loudly professing he is a nobleman who doesn't belong here. So, not only is he irritating the guards, there's a few prisoners who would be pleased to shut him up permanently." Joseph smirked.

"Oh, I bet!" Guy sneered.

"I will need my writing supplies, Joseph." the Scribe said.

"I have them waiting on a table for you just outside the bloke's cell door. I knew he'd be interrogated, so I prepared for it." Joseph said.

"Thank you." the Scribe nodded.

"Lead us to him." Gisborne instructed.

Joseph took them to an area where the isolated cells were located. They walked down a hall, then he indicated the door. He passed a key to Gisborne, then left them. The Scribe took his tablet and chalk from the table, while Guy unlocked the door. Within moments, they entered inside, and the chained prisoner wasted no time complaining.

"What is the meaning of this? How dare you toss me in this vile place amongst a bunch of dirty criminals!"

"Ha, ha! Really? How about… how dare you for sneaking into the castle, brazenly insinuating yourself amongst Council Members for our meeting? The Town Council meetings are closed. If you were truly a nobleman, you would know this." Guy said, sharply.

"This is madness! My Uncle Tylan shall be hearing of this!"

"Whatever. State your name."

"I told you at the meeting."

"Bollocks! State your real name!"

"Tobias Rothwell." the young man sighed.

"Good." Guy muttered, then he looked to the Scribe who was seated on a chair away from the prisoner. "Did you get that, Scribe?"

"Indeed, Sir Guy." the Scribe nodded.

Guy nodded then turned back to face the prisoner.

"The hell were you doing stealing into the castle and into a private meeting?" Guy demanded.

"I thought I might be… of use. Since I'm new in town." he replied.

"You were not invited! People cannot just wander in past the portcullis and stroll through the castle, and into our meeting chamber! Where the hell did you come from? A cave somewhere?" Guy spat.

"I wanted to see if he would be there." Tobias muttered.

"Whom? The Sheriff?"

"No. The murderous Black Knight who ran my father through!"

"Bollocks! There was more to it than your assumption about one of the Black Knights. You were there to gather intelligence! Don't even try to deny it." Guy shouted.

"You must be mistaken. Intelligence about what?"

"You were there to gather tactical information." Guy said, evenly.

"What are you talking about?" the young man lied.

"You're part of the resistance we know about."

"You mean the Brotherhood fellows? I've heard whispers about them. I don't know what their problem is. I just want justice for the murder of my father!"

"Ha! You're telling me that you and Uncle Dearest, both hell bent on revenge, have no interest in associating with those men?" Guy scoffed.

"Yes."

"You mendacious little twat!" Guy seethed as he pulled his sword from his scabbard, and moved in toward the prisoner.

He roughly grabbed the man's shoulder and held the blade of his sword to his throat.

The prisoner swallowed, dryly.

"What's the name of this group of cretins?" Guy demanded.

"The… Christian Brotherhood." the prisoner whispered.

"Ha, ha! What? What kind of a lame moniker is that?" Guy chortled.

"I don't know. It was the leader who thought of it, I guess." the prisoner shrugged.

"The Priest." Guy said.

"Yes. Tuttle is his name. Or, so I've heard."

"What are they planning?"

"I do not know. I don't care about their mission. All I care about is serving up justice to the man who killed my father." the prisoner muttered.

"Ah! Yes. Your precious father, the Lord. Lord of what? No nobleman has even heard of the bloke. He was no more a Lord than your butthole is!" Guy seethed.

"And, he is dead now, because of one of the Sheriff's Knights." Tobias said.

"That's what you think. You're wrong, but I won't waste my time explaining it to you." Guy said as he pushed the man against the wall.

Guy walked away from him and sheathed his sword. Then he looked back to the prisoner.

"You better not be lying. Because, I can easily put you in such a position you'll be begging for clemency, soiling your breeches while you squeal." Guy scoffed.

"Sure. Okay." the man muttered.

"All it would take is a few cuts on your skin from my blade. Just minor cuts, not enough to kill. Then we'll make sure the rats find you." Guy smirked.

The Scribe shuddered.

"I don't know anything about the Christian Brother — "

"No, nothing. Not a damn thing. Just the name of the organization, and who leads them. Got it." Guy smirked.

"I don't have an issue with you, or the Sheriff. This is between me and that Knight. For God's sake, what is the fuss about? Revenge is common in these times." the young man argued, weakly.

"When you take issue with one of the Black Knights, you take issue with us. You stand against us. The fact that I just had to explain that to you as if you were five, is reason number three hundred and twenty three that there's no way in hell you're a noble. So, save your breath and shut it!" Guy said, evenly.

The prisoner looked to the floor and sighed.

"We're done here, Scribe." Guy said.

The Scribe nodded and stood from the chair.

"When can I expect to be released?" the prisoner asked.

"How about… never?" Guy snarled.

"What?"

"We own you now. Enjoy your stay." Guy smirked.

"This is madness! I demand to speak to the Sheriff!"

"You're not in a position to make demands, you absolute fool! We are done." Guy said, sternly.

Then, Guy and the Scribe left the cell.

Just before the gloaming, Lady Gunilda was busy in the kitchen of her newly acquired cottage, deftly peeling and chopping vegetables to put into a hearty stew. The seasoned mutton was slow cooking in a large cauldron over a low heat fire, filling the air with a tantalizing aroma. Once she added the vegetables it would only take one to two hours more cooking time. Gunilda smirked and took a sip of wine from her goblet, satisfied with the progress of the stew thus far. She was imbibing to calm her and give her better clarity about Celestria, who had been acting queerly the last couple of days. She set the goblet down and went back to work, finely chopping a leafy green plant to add to the stew, when her charge appeared in the doorway.

"Something smells enticing. What is it you're cooking, Gunilda?" Celestria asked.

"Mutton stew, my dear." Gunilda smiled.

"Oh. What is that you're chopping? I don't think I've ever seen that before?"

"Horse nettle." Gunilda said as she waved a handful of it in the air to show her before continuing to chop it. "Also known as the Devil's tomato. In small quantities it adds a nice savoury flavour, with just a touch of zing." Gunilda smirked as she took a tiny piece from it and nibbled on it.

"Interesting."

"Yes, isn't it?"

"Can I help?"

"And, how would you propose doing that one-handed, my dear? Nonsense. Why don't you come and sit, and I'll pour you some of this delightful wine?" Gunilda suggested as she motioned to the chair near the table.

"Alright. That sounds lovely. You don't… have brandy, do you?"

"No. Why?"

"The Sheriff likes brandy."

"Does he, now? How fascinating."

"Yes. Sometimes I drink it to… remind me of him." Celestria said, softly.

"I see." Gunilda said as she poured some wine into a goblet for the mistress.

The truth was, she didn't see. The last couple of days, Celestria was speaking like she was in her own fantasy world; as if the Sheriff loved her and only her, and anything that was truly real was imagined by everyone except Celestria. Gunilda was at a loss as to how to draw her out of this illusory state she was trapped in. She thought of trying potions, but feared that potions would only make matters worse.

"Have you ever met him? He's really quite… handsome." Celestria said, dreamily.

"No. Can't say as I have." Gunilda lied. "But, I've heard about him. I mean, who hasn't? Robin Hood became a subject of tales told throughout the land, both before, and after his death. And, any story told about him invariably involves mention of the Sheriff." she shrugged.

"I swear, I felt my knees weaken when I first saw him up close." Celestria grinned.

"I'll take your word for it." Gunilda said. "Goddess, help us." Gunilda whispered to herself, while rolling her eyes, surreptitiously.

"If I could just get that woman out of the way, he would be mine."

"Would he, now? I think you're a bit late for these foolish notions, my dear."

"Why? Because of the… wedding?"

"Indeed, dear girl. It's only a day away, or have you forgotten?" Gunilda reminded her.

"I bet I could stop it!"

"And, I'd bet my Uncle Gamel's entire estate that you wouldn't have a chance in hell of achieving that." Gunilda scoffed, while she added the small measure of finely chopped horse nettle into the cauldron of stew.

"All I'd have to do is get past the gate. I would tell the guards I'm a guest. Perhaps, you could — "

"Oh, no. Don't be involving me in your schemes!" Gunilda said firmly, as she began to slice some carrots.

"But, you're quite clever. And, charming. I know you could get us in there." Celestria pouted.

Gunilda quit chopping and turned to face her charge.

"The answer is a very firm no, Celestria. Honestly, you're talking madness these last two days. I'm beginning to wonder if your wound is festering?" Gunilda sighed.

"My mind is sound." Celestria said, as she sipped of her wine.

"Really? From what I hear… he's devoted to his betrothed." Gunilda said.

"I could finally finish her. Then he will be mine." Celestria said wistfully, as she looked away and sighed.

"You poor, misguided child. You really think that's how it would play out? That he would just run to you the moment his lady was killed? Especially, if you were the one responsible?"

"She's the only one holding us back. I had him, Gunilda. Right in the palm of my hand!"

"And, did he pursue you after that?"

"Well, no. Because she was in the way!" Celestria huffed.

"You don't think he would have pursued you if you were the great love of his life?" Gunilda pointed out with a knowing quirk of her brow.

"That's besides the point. She has complicated everything!"

"My dear, you need to take a few more sips of that wine and calm yourself. Let logic prevail. You threatened her. He will be after you."

"He hasn't come calling yet, has he? He's probably trying to figure out how to rid himself of her, too."

"Really? All he'd have to do if that were the case is call off the engagement and cancel the wedding. It's that simple, child. If he wanted her out of the way, he's had plenty of time to do it. But, he hasn't." Gunilda said, as she resumed her task.

"Whatever! I don't need you. I can take care of this myself."

"With one arm?" Gunilda scoffed.

"My good arm works. The one that knows how to use my dagger!"

"Tell you what. You keep sipping that wine. You need to get out of this state you're in if you wish to properly plan. In a couple of hours the stew will be ready. In the meantime, I'll take a look at that wound. We'll get you fed, and then we can… revisit this plan of yours. Deal?" Gunilda suggested.

Celestria smiled, pleased that the pretty witch had finally caved to her wishes.

"Very well. You're right. I do need to calm myself with more of this wine. It helps." she said.

"Good. Pass me the onion and potatoes, my dear. I need to get them into this stew." Gunilda smirked.

The Sheriff returned to the castle just after sundown. He was surprised to see so many candles burning when he stepped into the private chambers. He removed his surcoat and gauntlets and threw them on a chair, as Rhiannon came out of the bedchamber and into the den to greet him.

"Hello, sugar." she smiled.

"My lady." he smiled as he walked toward her.

"It's our last evening together before we're wed." she said.

"Indeed. I've only got a couple of hours, though. The men are having a celebration — "

"Yes. At the Prince's manse. I know." Rhiannon smiled.

"I see. It's not being held there, however. We'll be in the Dining Hall. That way Luke can join us for a time." he said.

"Good. After the week you've had, you deserve it, George."

"I won't leave you for too long, my lady." he said as he grasped her hand.

"That's alright, my love. I won't be here — "

"Where will you be? You won't be taking off — "

"I'll be in Madam Oberon's chambers. She invited Meridwyn, Isabelle and I to stay tonight. We're going to be preparing for the morrow." Rhiannon explained.

"What do you mean by preparing? What is there to prepare? Everything is in order, including your gown — is it not?" the Sheriff asked, bewildered.

"Yes, my love. The gown is ready. Tonight, she is going to work on our hair. Madam Oberon says the process must start tonight, so that our hair will be presentable tomorrow." Rhiannon explained.

"It takes that long?"

"Apparently. It works out fine because, ordinarily, I should be at my manor right now, anyway. It's… highly unusual to have us both staying in the same place the night before our — "

"I don't give a damn what anyone may think of it. Do you ever hear people talk about Guy and Lady Meridwyn's conduct prior to their wedding? A hint: Nobody cares. All anyone sees is a contented married couple who are expecting a child. They don't care about the lead up to their wedding day." the Sheriff pointed out.

"Of course, George. But, you're a man. For a woman, this casts a different light on us. Anyway, it doesn't matter. The point is, you're going to be enjoying some merriment tonight, and I'm going to be having God knows what done to my hair." a beat. "Whatever she does to it, I hope I can sleep." Rhiannon sighed.

"Yes, I'm sure." he chuckled.

"I don't know if they're planning to feed you at your party, but I've sent for some light fare for us." Rhiannon said.

"I don't know, either, but that sounds perfect, my angel. Come." he said as he guided her to the sofa.

They seated themselves and she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder.

"This is all so… fussy, isn't it?" Rhiannon said.

"What, my lady?"

"The wedding. Everything about it. I'm already tired just thinking about it. Sometimes I wish it was just us and our immediate family."

"It's too late to do anything about that, but I do agree." he nodded.

"All I want is for tomorrow night to come. When it's just us and the pressure is lifted. When you and I can finally be at ease."

"And, we will be, my lady." he whispered as he kissed the top of her head.

In moments, the trays arrived. They sat out in the den, sipping of the Sheriff's brandy while they enjoyed beef soup and bread with it. Afterward, Rhiannon gathered some things to take to Madam Oberon's chambers, and they sat together again, talking about the day to come and their life together.

"Did you remember to pack your opium, my lady?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes. My ribs still hurt sometimes. The opium helps. Never mind me, how are you feeling?"

"It's fine. It's a bit sore from time to time, but at least it's healing properly now." he shrugged.

"What about your dressing? Maybe we should take a look at it before you go?"

"It's clean and dry. There's nothing to worry about, my lady." he smiled.

"It was only a few days ago I had no idea what the future would hold. First, you nearly died. That was the most frightening time of my life. And then, you didn't know me. I didn't know when, or if you'd come back to me. I only knew I was never giving up on you." Rhiannon said, softly.

"But, I did come back, my lady. You mustn't think of that now." he said as he put his arm around her and brought her in close to him.

"My sweet, I'm reminded every day. You're still bandaged."

"And, I'm going to be fine. So are you."

"How can you be so calm about everything, George? You nearly died, and the day before that, our daughter died. I still don't know if that was our last chance at — "

"Rhiannon, it does no good to dissect everything and worry about the future. We don't know what the future holds. All I need to know is that you will be in it with me. The rest will be a few added treasures that go along with it." the Sheriff said, softly.

"So, if I can't give you a child, it won't matter?" Rhiannon asked as she looked up into his eyes.

"My lady… " he sighed.

"What if I cannot, George?" she pressed.

"Then, when I retire we'll be able to travel to faraway places together, my angel." he smirked.

"Most people marry to have families."

"Rhiannon, if you haven't worked out by now that neither of us are most people, and that is why we're perfect for each other, then you haven't been paying attention." the Sheriff said.

"I'm serious, George."

"My lady, when most people marry they also don't know what their future will bring. They don't know if they will have children, or not. Look at your brother and Isabelle. They don't have children, but could you imagine them not being married?"

"Well, no. But — "

"They are happy. Devoted to each other. You are thinking about far too many things right now. Just trust that everything will be alright." the Sheriff said as he smoothed her hair.

"You're right. I don't know why I've been thinking of it. Maybe because only a week ago we just lost our daughter, and it was looking like I was about to lose you, too. I'm still trying to sort that out. A part of me is still the frightened woman from a week ago who thought it wasn't going to be a gathering for our wedding in the coming days, but… a gathering for your funeral instead." Rhiannon whispered, softly.

"You didn't lose me, my angel. And, you won't. As for Sela, that is something we share together. We shall always mourn her, but as time passes we'll get through it together. Alright?"

"Yes, my love. Forgive me. I didn't mean to put a damper on our evening together."

"You didn't. A lot has happened in the last sennight and there's hardly been time to speak of it. But, let's focus on what's to come."

"Alright." she smiled. "It's getting dark, my love. Isn't it time for you to meet your men?"

"I'll meet them after I've escorted you to Lady Arianna's chambers, my lady." he said.

"There's really no need — "

"Your ribs are still healing, my lady. I won't have you hauling that bag there." the Sheriff said, firmly.

"I… knew you were going to say that."

"Good. Then you know enough not to argue about it." he grinned. "Did you remember your dressing gown, and a shift to sleep in?"

"Yes, my love."

"We better take a blanket for you. You're often quite chill."

"Did you ever think that one day you'd be fussing so much over a woman?" she asked.

"No. Not once. But, then I met the perfect lady for me, and my entire outlook changed." he said, softly.

"Don't change too much, George. It was your dangerous side that enticed me." she winked.

"I never want you to be afraid of me, my angel."

Rhiannon moved in her seat to face him.

"My love, I know there's darkness in you. And, that it comes out now and then. But, there's decency in you, too. Look at how you handled Luke? You handled the situation expertly and with care. Exactly how a good leader should." Rhiannon began.

"If I handled it expertly, it's because I've had experience in that regard. If I hadn't been there when Nic was going through it, I wouldn't have understood it." the Sheriff said.

"You don't want to acknowledge it, and that's fine. But, I see it, sugar. I see the darkness, and the light that's inside of you. And, I love all of it, everything that makes you who you are. Never forget that." Rhiannon said, softly.

"As long as I'm not a bad influence on you."

"Of course, not." she smiled.

"The luckiest day of my life was the day I met you." he said. Then he leaned in and kissed her softly.

"I love you, too, my angel." he whispered.

Just then there was a knock at the door.

"I don't know who that is, my lady. Perhaps it's just as well, since I was about to remove your gown." he smirked.

"It will just have to wait until we are wed, my love." she smiled.

The Sheriff nodded then went to the door. Guy and Nichol stood before him.

"Time is wasting, friend!" Nichol smiled.

"Are you ready to join us?" Guy asked.

"Yes. I just need to escort Rhiannon to Madam Oberon's chambers. I thought Ladies Meridwyn and Isabelle were at the door."

"Meridwyn is already there. As I was leaving her, Robert was bringing Isabelle." Guy said. Then he frowned. "I can't imagine what the lady is going to be doing to their hair, but I hope I'll still recognize my wife. I like her curly hair, so she better not straighten it." Guy sighed.

"Indeed." the Sheriff said.

Lady Rhiannon arose from the sofa and walked to the door to greet the men. Afterward, she looked to the Sheriff.

"I'm ready now, George. I'll just grab my ba — "

"Nonsense, my lady. I'll take care of it. I'll extinguish the candles on my way back." he said.

Then he went to the bedchamber to retrieve it.

"What's in the plans for your wee party?" Rhiannon asked quietly, with a sardonic smirk. "You have entertainment lined up?"

"Yes. We certainly do." Nichol grinned.

"Scantily clad dancing ladies, no doubt — if you could classify them as such." Rhiannon whispered with an eye roll.

"No. We have a Bard coming." Guy said softly.

"You're jesting. A Bard?" she giggled with her hand to her mouth. "Don't they recite poems? He's going to laugh at the absurdity."

"Told you the Bard was a bad idea." Nichol sighed, addressing Guy. Then he looked to Rhiannon. "We've a band of minstrels lined up, too. There's also going to be a game. It shall be great fun!" Nichol whispered, enthusiastically.

"Oh? What manner of game is that?"

"A drink — " Guy was interrupted.

"A game where we answer questions based on our knife throwing performance." Nichol said.

"A drinking game? Really? You think the Bishop is going to let him through the doors on the morrow if he's drunk?" Rhiannon scorned in a whisper.

"The Bishop… of Hereford, right?" Nichol asked quietly, with a bewildered expression on his face.

"Indeed." she nodded.

"Alright. I don't know which one you're speaking of, but, the Bishop of Hereford I know had ignored a lot worse deeds than that from George. He'll do anything requested of him by the Sheriff of Nottingham." Nichol said, softly.

Rhiannon's eyes widened at that comment.

"You're not helping, Nic." Guy admonished. He turned to Rhiannon. "Do not worry yourself, Milady. He will not be unfit to wed. I can't even recall the last time I saw him in a such a state, frankly." Guy lied.

He did recall the last time. The night that whore Celestria was scheduled to return. But, Lady Rhiannon didn't know this. It would do her no good to know. He would carry his cousin's secret to his grave.

"Do not fret. It'll be fine." Guy assured her.

"Very well." Rhiannon nodded.

Nottingham returned to them holding Rhiannon's bag, and a folded blanket.

"What's this?" Nichol asked Rhiannon as he nodded to the bag and the blanket. "You moving in?" he chuckled.

"We're staying overnight in my Wardobe Mistress' quarters." she said.

"But… I thought you were just going to get your hair fixed, or something?" Nichol asked.

"We are. And ,whatever she'll be doing to it involves a whole night's process." Rhiannon smirked.

"What in the devil kind of codswallop is that? You ladies should be enjoying some merriment, too. That sounds like — "

"Torture?" Guy chortled.

"Yes. That's exactly the word I was going to use, Gis." Nichol said.

"Yes. It does seem extreme." the Sheriff sighed. "For all of the effort going into it, now I'm regretting I didn't commission a painter for the occasion. She's going to be spending all night preparing for it… " he said as he nodded to Rhiannon. "… and it will all be over in a flash. Like lightning."

"It will be worth it, George. At least… I hope so." Rhiannon smiled.

The men went ahead and made their way to the stairwell as the Sheriff escorted his lady to Madam Oberon's chambers. He pulled her toward him and kissed her softly before he knocked on the door.

"Next I see you, will be inside the cathedral, my lady. Robert will be escorting you to me." he whispered.

"Yes, my sweet." she smiled.

"I hope you enjoy yourself tonight, even though it doesn't sound like much fun to me." he sighed.

"I'm sure it's not going to be that terrible. You enjoy yourself, too. Just… try not to imbibe too much." Rhiannon sighed.

"I'm going to drink, Rhiannon. But, it won't be to excess, because even though I'll be at a party, I'm still on duty. I never know when I'll be called upon. You should know by now that the Sheriff never gets a day off. The morrow is a special dispensation day since a man's wedding day generally only comes around once. But, even then; even during the ceremony and the fete — I am still the Sheriff, and I am still on duty." he said softly, but firmly as he held her and looked into her eyes.

"I know, my love. I always knew." she whispered. "It was silly of me to… nag you."

"Indeed, my lady." he nodded. "Promise me you'll just relax with your friends tonight, and think no more of anything that troubles you. I want you at peace when I see you next, my angel."

"Oh, George. You're just the greatest… " she smiled as she embraced him and kissed his cheek. "The greatest man. I'm grateful I shall be your wife." she whispered into his ear.

"I thank you, my lady. I appreciate you think so. But, I am not perfect." he said as he extricated himself from her embrace to better look into her eyes. "You mustn't ever expect perfection from me. I have a… mean streak. I won't show it to you, but there's still going to be times I'm not going to be… polite with people. There's still going be those I'm going to need to kill. That disqualifies me from the perfect people category." the Sheriff said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"George. I know all of this. If you're trying to get me to change my mind about marrying you, you're doing a good job of it." Rhiannon sighed.

"No. I was just reminding you. Just so you're clear on… whom you're marrying."

"You're starting to worry me, George. Are you… feeling alright? You're not going to think I'm "Anna", or "Emma" when you see me next, are you?" she asked.

"I am perfectly sound, Rhiannon. Everything I said is fact, but, perhaps I was too verbose about it. Do not worry. I won't be drunk. I want a clear head on the morrow, and in case I'm… needed for something in the meantime." the Sheriff said, softly.

"Like what? What are you expecting to happen?" Rhiannon asked, with a suspicious quirk of her brow.

"Nothing, my angel." he lied. "But, I've found it's always best to be prepared for any situation." he smiled, then kissed her cheek.

Then, he knocked on Madam Oberon's door.

Nottingham didn't know why his gut was telling him he needed to stay clear minded tonight, but he always listened to his gut, because it was always right.

The women were enjoying a steaming cup of tea in the sitting room following the evening meal. Lady Gunilda observed Celestria, with her eyes narrowed curiously, as she took a sip from her cup.

"The stew was delicious." Celestria smiled.

"Good, because there's plenty more for the morrow." Gunilda said.

"I'm sure I won't be here then, Gunilda. The deed will be done and I shall be dining with my Sheriff."

"Your Sheriff. Really? Anyway, even if you accomplish this, I doubt he's going to be in the mood to dine with you moments after his brand new bride is killed. You really don't think things through, do you?" Gunilda sighed.

"Why are you so convinced he won't be grateful I took care of her for him?"

"If you plan to do this, it's best it's done quietly, and your identity kept hidden. You may have a shot if you can accomplish it in a very discreet fashion." Gunilda said matter of factly, as she stood from her seat. She walked over to the fireplace to stoke the fire.

"And, you're sure you won't accompany me?" Celestria asked.

"I'm sure. You're on your own for this one, child."

"Why? What… do you care? It's not like you'll be living here permanently. Your home is in the next county over. Why are you so worried about consequences in this county?"

"Oh, my Goddess!" Gunilda chuckled. "You're really quite new to this criminal mastermind stuff, aren't you? Do you not give your plans any thought?" she asked as she looked back to the maiden.

"What are you on about?" Celestria demanded.

"If you're going to carry out the deed of murder, you best give the matter a good deal of thought. Every little detail in whatever your plan needs to be carefully considered, with backup plans in place, in case something should go awry. You must always consider the unexpected. For instance, have you even considered that there's a very good chance you shall hang for this? You must consider every possibility. That is your problem. You act without thinking." Gunilda said.

"Are you… trying to scare me?" Celestria yawned.

Gunilda noticed, and looked down to the floor and smirked. Then she looked up again to her charge.

"No. I'm being real about this, child. Logic must supersede emotion if you don't wish to fail." she said, then went back to stoking the fire and adding more kindling to it.

"I see. So… you think it's best that when I do this, no one knows I'm there? That I do… this in private instead of in a… grand display?"

"Indeed." Gunilda said. She added a log to the fire then stood.

"Is there… more tea? This is… very calming. It's… just what I needed." Celestria whispered.

"Indeed, there is plenty more." Gunilda smirked.

She took the cup from Celestria and went into the kitchen. Within moments, she returned with it, and passed the cup of steaming tea to her charge.

"Thank you. It's… very good… and soothing." Celestria said, softly.

"Of course. That's what you need right now, Celestria."

"Aye. Perhaps… I've been too wound up about things to… carefully plan." a beat. "But, I'm going to… kill her, Gunilda. Tomorrow… shall be her last." Celestria yawned.

"Indeed." Gunilda said.

The ladies were seated in the salon of Madam Oberon's chambers, sipping some wine, and enjoying some pastries and squares that Jean Louis had sent up. Madam Oberon had stepped out of the room, saying she'd be bringing something out to them.

"I wonder what our men are doing right now?" Meridwyn mused as she took a small sip of the wine.

"Probably talking business over drinks." Isabelle said.

"Doubtful. There's entertainment lined up." Rhiannon said as she sipped of her wine.

"Really? Like what? Consorts? Naked dancing ladies?" Meridwyn frowned.

"What?" Isabelle asked, incredulously.

"No. A Bard, and a band of minstrels." Rhiannon said.

"A… Bard? For… that? Do they know whom the party is for? He's going to hate it. Even I know that!" Meridwyn laughed.

"Precisely, Meridwyn. I can already imagine him complaining to me about it when we get a moment to talk about it." Rhiannon grinned.

"Wait. What's this about consorts and… naked dancing ladies? Go back to that part." Isabelle said, nervously.

"Some men have lecherous celebrations like that for a bridegroom." Meridwyn explained.

"Well, there better not be any of that going on." Isabelle huffed.

"Relax, Sister. I'm confident we don't need to worry." Rhiannon said.

"I surely hope you're right." Isabelle sighed as she began to fan herself.

"Can you honestly see Robert interested in any of that?" Rhiannon asked.

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

"I know I am. You mustn't think of it. Just enjoy yourself, Sister. It will be alright." Rhiannon said.

Just then, Madam Oberon entered the room with a tray. Upon the tray was one basin with steaming water in it, some cloths, and a bowl with a mixture in it that looked to be the consistency of pudding.

"It's time we get started, mes chers." Madam Oberon said.

"What's all of this?" Isabelle asked, nodding to the contents on the tray.

"And, what does it have to do with our hair? I don't even see a hairbrush on that tray." Meridwyn asked, curiously.

"It's nothing to do with hair. First we must start on your faces." Madam Oberon announced as she set the tray on the table in front of them.

"But, I thought you were styling our hair?" Rhiannon asked.

"Oh, I will be, Mademoiselle. First we're going to clean your faces, and apply a brightening, moisturizing face mask to your skin."

"What?" Meridwyn asked.

"Trust me, mon cher. All of you shall look your very best tomorrow. Better than ever. You shall see. Oui!" the lady exclaimed, excitedly.

"What do you mean by mask, Madame?" Rhiannon asked.

"After I clean your face, I shall apply this mixture all over the skin. It will sit on the skin for a time. Next, we shall prepare your hair. After I have your hair beginning to set, then we will wash the mixture — or mask, off your face, and your skin will be soft and glowing." she explained.

"Oh. Alright. What exactly is in the mixture that you apply to our faces?" Rhiannon asked.

"It's egg whites, lemon juice, a few drops of orange and grape seed oils, some heavy cream, and oats. It's all whipped together, and it has a pleasing effect on the skin, I've found."

"If that's what you use on your own skin, I'm ready for it. Your face is youthful looking." Meridwyn smiled.

"Merci, mon cher." Madam Oberon nodded.

"She does make a very good point." Isabelle said to her sister in law as she nodded to Meridwyn.

"Indeed." Rhiannon agreed.

"Bon! Let's get started, then."

"Who goes first?" Rhiannon asked.

"Either you, or Dame Isabelle, Mademoiselle. Dame Meridwyn is last because I don't need to fuss as much on her hair. We start on your faces, then, in the same order as that, we begin with your hair."

"My hair is probably the most complicated. Have you looked at it?" Meridwyn scoffed.

"Your friends' hair will take more coaxing than yours, mon cher. Of this, I am very certain." Madam Oberon said.

"Very well." Meridwyn sighed.

"Alright. Let's get started, then." Rhiannon agreed. She looked to her sister in law. "You go first, Isabelle. I want to see how this is going to work."

"Very well." Isabelle nodded.

The festivities were underway in the Dining Hall. Recently, the Captain and his men, back from the search, had joined them. The spirits were flowing, and trays of various foods to nibble on were kept abundantly stocked on the table. Torches which were ensconced on the walls were ablaze, and many candles in iron candelabrum, strategically placed on the large table, and small tables in the room, filled the hall with light.

The Bard, and the minstrels known as the Medley Brothers, had just entered the room. Guy walked over to greet them, then ushered them to a separate table. He was speaking to them across the room from where the men were seated, as the performers prepared to entertain the men.

After a few moments, Guy stood in the centre of the room near the harp which had just been placed there by the Bard, and clapped his hands together.

"Your attention, men!" Guy called out to them.

The men stopped talking and looked to Gisborne.

"The Bard shall begin with his presentation. Following that, the Medley Brothers will fill the room with music." Guy announced.

The Bard nodded, then walked over to his harp in the centre of the room. He took a seat on a stool beside it as he began to pluck at the strings.

"Whose idea was it to have a Bard entertain us?" Nottingham asked the men.

"It was Guy's, friend." Nichol whispered.

"Ha! This ought to be good for a laugh." he grinned as he took a generous swig of brandy.

The Bard began his recital after a few moments, and spoke while he plucked at his harp:

"The night, though dark, the stars did shine;

To guide the way of the maiden, divine

The Knight, cloaked in black, upon his steed;

He blinked his eyes, and tasted mead… "

"The hell is this sappy bollocks? Why can't he be the variety of Bard who actually sings?" the Sheriff muttered as he chuckled.

"Indeed." Duke Farnsworth sighed.

"It kind of sounds like words to a song I've heard recently?" Guy whispered.

"I've heard it, too. It's quite nice when the words are sung." Robert added.

"I'll take your word for it, Robert." the Sheriff sighed.

Across the room, the Medley Brothers were speaking amongst themselves.

"What the bleeding hell? That no talent fool is reciting your lyrics, Milo!" the youngest of the brothers whispered.

"Indeed, Loris." Milo seethed.

"The bloke is trying to take credit for your material!" another of the brothers exclaimed in a whisper.

"Take it easy, Timm. Let's see how well he remembers the words." Milo smirked.

The Bard continued as he played his harp.

"Alas, in a vision, the mage appeared;

The messenger, veiled, yet the words were clear:

'You can wield your sword, and count your gold;

But, power is nothing without a hand to hold.'"

"Wait just a minute, Mister Plagiarism bloke!" Loris Medley shouted to him as he stood from his seat, unable to restrain himself.

The Bard stopped and looked over at the man, curiously.

"Oh, boy… " Nichol sighed.

The Sheriff stood from his seat.

"What seems to be the problem — besides the boring, sappy poem he's reciting?" the Sheriff called out to him.

"Those are Milo's lyrics to a recent song he composed!" Loris exclaimed as he nodded to Milo.

"The bloke is trying to lay claim on our brother's work." Timm Medley added.

Loris looked to the Bard. "The hell is wrong with you? Can you not conceive of original material?"

"Forgive me. I thought the lyrics were pretty so I decided to use them." the Bard shrugged.

"Alright. That's enough. Thank you for coming." the Sheriff said to the Bard.

"As you wish, Milord." the Bard nodded.

He picked up his harp and left the room.

"George, why don't you ask the minstrels to sing it for us? I'm sure the song is much better than just spoken words?" Prince John suggested.

"It really is, if memory serves me well." Robert agreed.

"Very well." Nottingham reluctantly agreed. He looked to the minstrels. "Alright, men. You may begin. We are… interested to hear your take on the words we just heard. Consider that bit your introduction to your tune."

"Very well, Milord Sheriff." Milo smiled as he stood. He nodded to his brothers to join him in the centre of the room.

Milo softly counted down from three as he looked to his brothers. In moments, their music filled the air with soft melodious sounds, and they began to sing the words in harmony.

"It sounds so much better in a song." Guy remarked.

"Alright. I will agree. It has a better ring to it with a melody and tempo backing it." the Sheriff nodded as he nibbled on a pastry. He took a generous swig of brandy to wash it down, then turned to Robert. "Did you accomplish the task I assigned you?"

"I sent Percival. I'm meeting the fellow on Wednesday." Robert said, as he took a swig of ale.

"So, there is such a man with that name?" he asked.

"Yes, Milord. Percival met with his assistant."

"Well, I suppose that's a relief."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself. We still don't know if he, indeed, signed the document, and whether or not his signature was forged." Robert cautioned.

"Noted. And, you'll have that information for me on Wednesday, correct?"

"Indeed, Milord." Robert said.

"Very good." the Sheriff said.

"I've a report for you, too, Cousin; but, I'll save it for later." Guy said.

"Good." he nodded.

"I must say, the music is delightful." Prince John smiled as he took some generous sips of his wine.

"A damn sight better than the poetry recital." Nichol agreed.

"Indeed. I'm glad you like them. They're playing at the fete on the morrow." the Sheriff said.

At the other end of the table, the Sheriff's men were engaged in their own discussion.

"Glad to see you looking a little better, Luke." Adam said to his mate as he took a swig of ale from his mug.

"Indeed. I'm finally starting to feel more like myself." Luke nodded. Then he addressed all of them. "How's the search going?"

"Unproductive, so far." Ancel said.

"Did you try the forest?" Luke asked.

"We did." Gerad nodded.

"Affirmative." Mordrid said.

"And?" Luke pressed them.

"Negative." Ancel sighed.

"We came up empty." Gerad said.

"No sign of him at all." Alex added.

"That's unfortunate. It's been a sennight. He could have covered a lot of ground by now." Luke said.

"Indeed." Ancel muttered.

"Hey! How was the big meeting today, Drake? Wasn't that your first time sitting in on one?" Adam asked.

"Yes. It was. It was interesting. You wouldn't believe who had the stones to sneak into the castle and worm their way straight into the meeting." Drake hinted as he took a swig of his ale and smirked.

"Whom?" Adam asked.

"One of the blokes who came looking for Luke last week. The son of the slain man he keeps styling as a Lord."

"You can't be serious?" Ancel asked.

"Dead serious. He's in the dungeon now, of course." Drake smirked.

"Savage!" Alex chortled.

"Do you suppose there will be dancing ladies making an appearance tonight — for our viewing enjoyment?" Gerad asked them collectively, with a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Doubtful." Luke replied.

"Really? That's… too bad." Gerad sighed, as he took a drink of mead from his mug.

"Not if you have a nice lady waiting for you." Luke said as he took a swig of ale.

"Really? Who has time for that?" Gerad scoffed.

"Tell me about it! I'm starting to wonder if I'll recognize Demetria when next I see her." Mordrid huffed.

"Damn. That's terrible, Mordrid." Ancel said.

"I'll say." Mordrid agreed.

"Do you, Luke?" Drake asked.

"He must, or he wouldn't have said that." Adam added.

"Do I… what?" Luke asked.

"Don't be a smart arse, Luke. You know exactly what I meant." a beat. "Do you have a lady waiting for you?" Drake asked, pointedly.

Suddenly, all eyes were upon him, waiting with near bated breath for his reply.

"I don't know what you're — " Luke was interrupted.

"Stop teasing him, lads." Mordrid said as he slapped Luke on the back.

"He couldn't have. He never goes anywhere except to where he's assigned. Where the hell would he be hiding a woman if he had one?" Alex added.

"Well, I'd imagine, if he were smart — he'd be hiding her in plain sight." Ancel said as he gave a knowing smirk to Luke.

"Of course! It's that new one, Flower — or some similarly peculiar name. The one that Rothwell bloke was attacking!" Drake chuckled.

"What?" Adam asked, suddenly bewildered. Did Luke have himself a lady friend?

"What the hell are you lads on about?" Alex asked.

And, whom in the devil is… Flower?" Gerad asked, as he took a generous swig of mead.

"You men are being ridiculous, and I'm not being funny about it!" Luke exclaimed.

The Sheriff's ears suddenly perked at the sound of Luke's raised voice. He sipped of his brandy and paid close attention to what was happening just down the table from him.

"Come on, Luke. You nearly exploded like Byzantine fire when you saw her in the tavern with that Rothwell bloke." Drake reminded him.

"He was assaulting her. Then he dragged her out of the tavern." Luke said.

"You were wound as tight as a harp string about it." Drake said.

"Because, I knew he would violate her. He had no right!" Luke exclaimed.

"Hate to break the news to you, mate, but, that sort of thing happens a lot." Alex said.

"Why is it acceptable? It should never be acceptable!" Luke fired back.

"Damn. Calm down, mate." Adam said.

"Why are you taking it so personally?" Drake asked.

"Because, no lady deserves that. Floria didn't, and… neither did… my mother." Luke said quietly, then took a few generous swigs of ale to calm him.

Nottingham narrowed his eyes curiously, as he continued to observe the scene. Was Luke about to lose control again? He wondered.

There was a collective gasp from Luke's comrades. After a few moments the silence at their end of the table was broken.

"Damn. I'm sorry, mate." Drake said, quietly.

"Indeed. We had no idea." Adam nodded.

"Of course you wouldn't, because I've never shared much of my past. Some of you probably don't even know my surname, or… where I'm from." Luke muttered.

"It's Langdon, isn't it? Your surname?" Adam asked.

"Correct." Luke nodded.

"And, you're from Bretlinton, in the county of York." Drake added.

"Yes." he said.

"Luke Langdon." a beat. "It has quite a ring to it. Sounds like the name of nobility." Ancel said.

"It was. But, I left it all behind." Luke said.

"How is your mother now, mate?" Mordrid asked.

Luke took a deep breath, then a swig of his ale. He set the mug down on the table.

"Unfortunately, my mother was killed. In brutal fashion, by the same animals who took turns beating and violating her. They killed my young sisters, too." he said.

"Oh, no. Fuck." Mordrid muttered. "Condolences, mate."

"That's… bloody terrible, mate." Adam said, shaking his head.

"Jesus, Luke." Drake whispered.

"I didn't reveal this to garner your sympathy. But, this is the reason I take issue with rubbish men who harm women, and children." Luke explained.

"Understood." Ancel nodded.

Nottingham placed his goblet on the table and arose from his seat. He walked down to the end of the table.

"You men enjoying yourselves?" he asked.

They each nodded and commented to him that they were enjoying some merriment.

"Hmm. Could have fooled me. Looked like you were having an intense discussion?" he countered.

"It was nothing, Milord." Mordrid said.

"I need to borrow Luke for a moment." he said.

"Really, Milord?" Luke asked.

"Yes. Really, Luke. It will only take a moment." the Sheriff said.

Luke nodded then arose from his chair.

The Sheriff led him to a corner of the room away from the table.

"Are you feeling alright, Luke?" he asked.

"Yes, Milord. Is that really why you pulled me away?"

"You sounded distressed a few moments ago. Hostile. We could hear you at the other end of the table." the Sheriff said.

"Just a… spirited discussion, Milord. Nothing more. Nothing less. All is well." Luke assuaged him.

"If you begin to feel unwell, or tired at all, you're excused. Just say the word, and someone will escort you to your rooms. Understood?" the Sheriff said, firmly.

"Of course, Milord. I feel fine, though." Luke nodded.

"Very well." he nodded.

Then, they walked back to the table and returned to their seats.

In Madam Oberon's chambers, the ladies were being beautified by the seamstress. Rhiannon and Isabelle sat together on the sofa, sipping wine; the creamy mask spread upon their faces and necks, and their hair rolled up in several small rollers which Madam Oberon had made herself out of cotton fabric. Rhiannon couldn't help but wonder how much time it took Madam Oberon to make all of them.

Since they had already washed their hair earlier in the day, all Madam Oberon had to do was wet and brush their hair in tiny sections before rolling it. Once they were rolled, the ends of each roller which weren't stuffed to make them tubular like the centres, were tied. At the moment, she was working on Meridwyn's hair — who was convinced nothing was going to work.

"I can't believe you're trying to add more curl to my already wild mane." Meridwyn sighed as she took a sip of watered down mulberry juice from her goblet.

"You shall see, mon cher. It's going to work." Madam Oberon smiled.

"But, it's already very curly. What's the sense in making curly hair curlier?" Meridwyn asked, turning back to face her.

"Hold still, Dame Meridwyn. Turn your head back around." the lady instructed.

"It's a shame she can't drink with us." Isabelle whispered to her sister in law. "She's wound up tighter than our hair!"

"Indeed. I don't blame her for abstaining, though." Rhiannon said, softly.

"Of course. I would, too, in her condition." Isabelle nodded.

"You're not imbibing much, Isabelle. You've hardly touched that wine." Rhiannon pointed out, nodding to the goblet in her hand.

"Yes, well… a couple of sips already got to me." Isabelle muttered as she began to fan herself.

"That's very strange. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Like I said before, my appetite has been decreased. Mayhaps… that is the problem? I'm just… not interested in food of late. That could be the reason I'm feeling the effects of the wine… rather quickly." Isabelle shrugged.

"What's going on, Sister? Why have you no appetite?" Rhiannon asked.

"I'm not sure. One of those winter bugs that go around, perhaps?" Isabelle mused quietly, as she set her goblet on the table.

"Yes. You hardly ate anything last night when we dined together. I've noticed you looking less than hale off and on in the last number of days, as well. I hope you'll be feeling well on the morrow, dearest." Rhiannon soothed.

"I'm sure I'll be fine. You mustn't fret, Sister." Isabelle smiled. She hoped she would be able to stay the nausea that kept coming in waves.

"You sure this isn't just going to look like a total mess?" Meridwyn asked.

"Oui, mon cher. I am sure. Mon Dieu! What a fuss you're making."

"Because it's the bane of my existence. I fight with it every day. Trust me." Meridwyn sighed.

"Maybe you should have a couple more sips of wine, Meridwyn?" Rhiannon suggested.

"No. I've already had two sips, and I've set aside time to partake of a small measure on the morrow. After tomorrow, there will be no more of it. Not until the child has arrived."

"Then… maybe take some deep breaths." she sighed.

"You mustn't worry, Meridwyn." Isabelle said.

"I hope it doesn't resemble a rat's nest." Meridwyn muttered.

"It won't. You will see." Madam Oberon sighed.

The Medley brothers had finished playing in the Dining Hall. After a word with the Sheriff — where he asked them to play the song at the fete which the Bard used the lyrics for, they gathered their instruments and left.

The Sheriff returned to his seat at the table and took a sip of brandy from his goblet.

"You're not drinking much, Cousin. Is the brandy bad? You've been sipping the same measure of it for hours." Guy remarked.

"Indeed, Gis. I'm fine with what I have. Although, some water would be nice." he whispered.

"What? But, it's your party, George?"

"Gis, there's nothing wrong with the brandy. But, my gut is telling me that something is wrong. I don't know why, and I don't know what it is; but, I always listen to my gut. If I need to respond to something, I cannot be drunk." he said softly, so no one else could hear him.

"Very well."

"I'd advise you to watch your intake, too. And, make sure the top men aren't getting sloshed while you're at it." Nottingham said firmly, with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Noted." Guy nodded.

"What are you two talking about? The festivities have only just begun!" Nichol exclaimed.

"It is nothing, Nic." he said.

"You probably never take a moment to unwind. That's what I'm picking up on since I got back. Try to relax and lighten up, friend." Nichol smiled.

"Sure. I'll try."

"I don't know what happened to you? You used to enjoy a few goblets of brandy now and again. Where's the fun Sheriff?" Nichol asked.

"Can tell you haven't been around in quite awhile." Duke Farnsworth commented as he took a sip of ale.

"Really?" Nichol asked.

"Yes. That man is long gone." Guy said.

"Really?" Nichol asked, curiously. Then he looked to his friend. "You used to be more… carefree. Sort of."

"Yes, Nic. And, look where that got us? I didn't have a handle on things back then. You may remember the seige in Sherwood, and everything that led up to it? Then we had a bloody incursion right in the bleeding courtyard! For years, I thought you were killed in that attack. We lost a number of our men. I won't let that happen again." Nottingham said, firmly.

"Well, this might be a problem with what we've got up our sleeve for the next little while at this party." Nichol sighed.

"Oh? What is it, Nichol? It sounds like it might be fun." Prince John grinned.

"I told you, Nic. No whores!" he huffed.

"Oh, boy… " Robert sighed as he took a sip of ale from his mug.

"I know, friend. And, I respect that. There's no consorts coming. No half naked dancing ladies, either." Nichol said.

"What an absolute crying shame." Prince John frowned as he took a generous swig of his wine.

"Good. But… what have you planned? It sounds… debauched, whatever it is." the Sheriff sighed.

"It's going to be great fun. You will see." Nichol said.

Then he arose from his chair, grabbed his walking stick, and walked over to the doors to speak to the sentry posted on the other side of them.

"Do you know what this is about, Gis?" Nottingham asked.

"Yes."

"Will I like it?"

"Perhaps." Guy nodded.

The Sheriff sighed. A servant came to the table, and he requested a pitcher of water and a clean goblet; as Guy got up and walked to the other end of the table.

"Seriously, George? You plan to drink water — at your own party, no less?" Prince John frowned.

"Indeed, Your Highness. I'm thirsty. It will satisfy thirst better, and I don't wish to lose my senses." Nottingham briefly explained.

"It's a party, for the love of Mary, George, old boy!" the Prince exclaimed.

"Indeed, it is. Regardless, I am still on duty." he said, firmly.

The Sheriff's men stopped their conversation, curious to see the Lieutenant standing there, suddenly.

"Having fun?" Guy grinned.

"Sure. It's a… great party, Sir Guy." Alex said.

"Indeed. Interesting entertainment for this sort of thing, but… here we is. I mean… are." Gerad laughed.

"Are you drunk, Gerad?" Guy snarled.

"I… might have imbibed… a wee bit too much mead… Sir." Gerad shrugged.

"Then, you're disqualified from the game coming up. No more after you finish this." Guy said, nodding to the mug. "God's nightgown, Gerad! The Prince is here! Just because it's a party for the Sheriff doesn't mean you've permission to pickle yourself. Decorum, Gerad!" he admonished in a whisper.

"Yes, Sir Guy." Gerad nodded.

"What about you three?" Guy nodded to the Sheriff's top men.

"I'm not drunk… but, I kind of wish I were, to be frank." Mordrid said.

"I'm sound, Sir Guy. I've had half a mug of ale. I'm not feeling in the mood for imbibing, as you can imagine." Luke nodded.

"I've had one, Sir Guy." Ancel said.

"Good. Watch what you're drinking from now on. Try not to overindulge."

"Of course, Sir Guy. But, is there something we should know? Are you expecting a problem?" Mordrid asked.

"Orders from the Sheriff. I think he might be, but whatever it is, I couldn't say. We must always be prepared, regardless." Guy said, quietly.

"Very well, Sir Guy." Ancel nodded.

"As you wish. I was going to request water, anyway." Luke smiled.

"We shall be ready and at your service if needs be, Sir Guy. You can take that back to him and assure him he can count on us." Mordrid said.

"Good. I will." Guy nodded. He looked to Luke. "It's good that you're willing, but, if you're not up to it should anything arise, you're excused."

"I'm here to serve, Sir Guy. You can take that back to him, too." Luke grinned.

"Very well, lad." Guy said. Then he cleared his throat and addressed them collectively. "Alright. You men carry on. Four of you shall not participate in the drinking game coming up. You, most of all, Gerad. I don't want to see any of you getting drunk tonight. Are we clear? You are in the company of Prince John."

The men nodded and verbally agreed that they would follow his orders.

After the Lieutenant returned to his seat and reported what the men had said to the Sheriff, Nichol was returning to the room. A guard was bringing in a large painting. At Nichol's directive, the guard took the framed painting over to the wall across from where the men were seated, and hung it.

The Sheriff frowned when he recognized the face in the portrait.

"What in the bleeding hell? Why is there a portrait of that bloke on the wall?" Drake whispered to his mates.

"I don't know, but this is part of the drinking game, I think. This is going to be good!" Mordrid smirked.

"I hope you're right." Ancel muttered.

Nichol was only halfway across the room, returning to his chair, when the Sheriff stood and shouted at him.

"Nic! What in the ever bleeding fuck is a painting of that sodding tree stump doing on the wall at my party?" Nottingham demanded, pointing to it.

"Because you loathe the bloke, George. I couldn't think of anyone else you despised more than he, since… your list is awfully short these days." Nichol scoffed.

"Why must we all be subjected to the image of our most wanted criminal?" he asked again.

"Can you think of someone else you'd rather throw knives at?" Nichol asked as he neared the table.

"Only one person. You, at the moment." a beat. "Explain this — and you better make it good!"

"Ooh! I bet I can guess?" Prince John said.

"Alright. Tell us. Let's see if you're right." Nichol said.

"Two men take turns throwing their daggers, aiming for a specified target area. Whomever misses the mark takes a drink. Am I right?" the Prince asked.

The Sheriff looked at them curiously, with his eyes narrowed.

"Close, Your Highness. The loser must also answer a question truthfully that the winner asks of him. It could be anything, as meaningless as a favourite colour." Nichol said.

"Clever! I like it!" the Prince chuckled. He held his goblet up toward Nichol, then took a generous swill of his wine.

"Can we burn that painting at the end of it?" Nottingham asked.

"You can rip it into strips and wipe your arse with it, George — whichever pleases you." Nichol smirked.

A few of the men began to chuckle at that, unable to conceal it. Guy looked down and managed to conceal his laughter.

"I think I liked you better when I thought you were dead." the Sheriff said, wryly.

"Touché." Nichol grinned.

"Just one obvious question." the Sheriff said.

"Alright?" Nichol shrugged.

"Where the hell did you find a painting of that bloke?" he asked.

"We asked Michael, the local artist, to do it." Nichol said.

"What?"

"Yes, Cousin. We took Richard's drawing to him. He agreed to do it, but said it wouldn't be perfect on short notice. After he was assured we didn't need it to be so, he got to work." Guy explained.

"He said he 'slapped it together', but, I think it's a good likeness, personally." Nichol shrugged.

"I agree. But, I'm still burning it when this is over." the Sheriff snarled.

"Whatever suits you, friend. Alright. Are we ready to begin?" Nichol asked.

Everyone responded enthusiastically. Most especially, the Prince.

"Yes. Let's get this over with so I can get the image of that bastard out of my sight." the Sheriff said.

"Good! Then, you shall go first, George." Nichol said.

"Fine. Whom is my opponent?"

"I volunteer!" Prince John said, excitedly.

The Sheriff smirked. An easy win. The Prince had been drinking incessantly since the spirits were first brought to the table.

"Just make sure you aim for the painting." Nottingham added, dryly.

"I can see that, George, old boy." the Prince said.

"Where are we aiming?" the Sheriff asked Nichol.

"The head." Nichol smirked.

"Got it. How many rounds?"

"Each pair gets three throws each." Nichol said.

The Sheriff nodded and he and the Prince left their chairs to stand in front of the table, directly across from the painting. Nichol passed them each a dagger which were lined up on the table, along with others. Everyone seated there had their full attention.

"You first, Your Highness." Nottingham said.

The Prince grinned and took aim. He threw the dagger and it landed at the bottom of the portrait.

"Next throw will be better." Prince John shrugged.

The Sheriff nodded then raised his right arm, as he narrowed his eyes upon the target. He threw the dagger and the point landed with a thud into the right eye on the man's portrait.

The men began to cheer and applaud.

The Prince sighed and drank all that was in his goblet. Then he looked to the Sheriff, nervously awaiting his question.

"Why is it you prefer wine that anyone else would classify as poor quality?" Nottingham asked.

"Because it's the complete opposite to how I was raised. It's like me saying 'sod off' to the whole damn family, Georgie. The only one who ever gave a rat's ass about me was Father, King Henry." Prince John said. Then he frowned and looked to everyone seated at the table. "This is privileged information, by the way. Should I get wind of any of you sharing this outside of this room, your head shall roll."

"Anything spoken of during this game is sacred." Nichol addressed all who were present. Then, he topped up the Prince's wine.

The men nodded their understanding, and the game progressed.

On the second throw, the Prince failed badly as his dagger landed on the floor against the wall. The Sheriff's dagger landed on the neck.

"I hope you ask something trivial, friend." Prince John said as he drank of his wine.

"Do you think you'll ever be King?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes." Prince John grinned.

The Sheriff gave a knowing grin back to him.

"Good. Last throw for our first pairing." Nichol announced.

This time, the Prince surprised everyone by landing his dagger on the cheek in the portrait. The Sheriff, however, managed to hit an inch or so out from the left ear.

Nottingham sighed and finished the brandy that was in his goblet, vowing that would be his last drink, then looked to the Prince.

"Are you… faithful to your lady?" the Prince asked.

"Indeed." Nottingham said.

"Well done. We'll take the next two now, and the winner in that pairing will compete against the Sher — " Nichol was interrupted.

"I'm done, Nic. I've had my fill of brandy. Just continue on, but leave me out of it from here on end." the Sheriff said, firmly.

"Very well. How about… Guy and Christian next?"

"Very well." Duke Farnsworth nodded as he stood from his chair.

"Be prepared to lose." Guy smirked.

Emory and Castor were on duty at the portcullis with only a couple more hours to go before the next pair of guards were expected to take over for the rest of the night. Things had been quiet since the Prince arrived, and then the Captain and the group of men returning from the search mission. And now, they noticed an attractive raven haired lady on approach. She dismounted from her horse several yards away, and guided her horse toward them by the reins.

"Whom do you suppose that is, Cas?" Emory asked his mate, as he nodded in the direction of the woman.

"Couldn't say, mate. But, I doubt she's a consort, or one of those dancing lady types. She looks too… posh. Sort of." Castor said.

"Wonder what they're doing at the party?" Emory mused.

"It's probably a bit subdued… since the Prince is in attendance."

"Right. Of course." Emory nodded.

The lady moved in closer toward them.

"Good even, my lady. What can we do for you?" Castor asked her.

"Good evening, gentlemen. Look, I realize it's late in the day, but I have urgent business with the Sheriff." Gunilda said.

"He's indisposed at the moment, Madam. Unless… you're part of the entertainment?" Emory asked.

"Pardon?" she asked.

"For the party." Emory clarified.

"I see. No. I am not. I really must speak to him, it's urge — "

"He's busy, my lady." Castor sighed.

"Right. Alright… then, I need to speak with Officer Drake. I'm guessing he might be in there?" Gunilda nodded toward the castle.

"Indeed. How do ye know Drake?" Castor asked.

"We're quite well acquainted." Gunilda smiled.

"You have any weapons with you?" Emory asked with his eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

"Yes. But, it's in a sack attached to the saddle." she nodded to her horse. "A lady can never be too careful, especially when the need to venture out after dark arises." she said.

"Show us your pockets, and lift the hem of your skirt so we can make certain you're not hiding something in your boots." Castor instructed.

The lady pulled the pockets out from her skirt, and her velvet cape. Then she lifted the hems of her skirt and cape. Emory bent down and checked both boots.

"She's clean." Emory nodded to Castor.

"Great. So, whom is it you wish to see? His Lordship? Or, Officer Drake?" Castor asked.

"I'd prefer the Sheriff, but you mentioned he was busy. Let me speak with Drake. Could you take me to him? It's vital that I speak with him." Gunilda implored him.

"It's against my better judgement, but I'll personally escort ye inside." Castor said. He looked to Emory. "I've got this, Emmer. I'll return shortly." Castor whispered.

"Of course." Emory nodded.

Emory took the reins from Lady Gunilda, then set about securing the horse; as Castor escorted her past the portcullis and toward the front entrance of the castle.

To the astonishment of most of the men who were gathered, Robert had won his round in the dagger throwing drinking game against Alex, and now, he and Guy were finishing their match. It was time for their third throw.

Guy went first. He took aim and threw the dagger. The point of the blade landed with a thud on the neck of the wanted man in the portrait.

"Well done, Gis!" Nichol shouted.

"I've seen him do better than that, however." the Sheriff said, as he took a few sips of water.

It was Robert's turn. He stood a moment, squinting his eyes. Then he raised the dagger, concentrated on his aim for a moment or two, and threw it.

The point landed directly on the nose of the wanted man in the portrait.

The men erupted in loud cheering, whistles, and applause.

Guy chuckled, as he shook his head slowly, and finished his ale.

"How come I didn't know of these skills of yours before now, Robert?" the Sheriff asked.

Robert looked back at him with a knowing grin as he shrugged.

"Alright. Hit me with your question, Robert." Guy said.

"Hmm. I need a moment to think of something good." Robert said.

"Come on, Robert!" Prince John urged him.

"Don't worry. I won't make it too personal." Robert whispered.

"Cheers." Guy mouthed the word to him.

"Have you ever wished that you could be the Sheriff of Nottingham?" Robert asked, directly.

The Sheriff observed with his eyes narrowed, curiously.

"Well, that's an easy question." a beat. "Fuck, no!" Guy said, emphatically.

"Really, Gis?" the Sheriff asked.

"Really." Guy said. "Not even for all the money in the world. No offence, Cousin."

"None taken." he smirked.

Just then, the doors opened and Castor entered the hall.

"Isn't Castor supposed to be at the portcullis, Duke?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes, Milord. He has another two hours left on duty. He was there when we returned." Duke Farnsworth shrugged.

"I knew it." he muttered.

"What, Milord?" the Captain asked, curiously.

"Something is happening." he said simply.

They were surprised to note that Castor walked directly toward the other end of the table. He leaned down and whispered something to Drake. Drake nodded, then arose from his chair, then he walked with Castor toward the doors.

The Sheriff observed them, curiously. He wasn't sure why Castor would come in to summon Drake, but the tight feeling in his gut was intensifying.

Drake was quite surprised to see whom Castor had brought in to meet with him.

"Lady Gunilda?" Drake asked, quite bewildered.

"Good evening, Drake." she smiled.

"What's going on? Are you… alright?"

"I am fine, but someone in this castle will not be if we don't warn the Sheriff. There's not much time." Gunilda said.

Drake nodded to Castor, and Castor left them, returning to his post. Drake then took Lady Gunilda to a nearby bench and motioned for her to seat herself. She obeyed, and he sat beside her.

"Alright. Why did you summon me and not the Sheriff?" Drake asked.

"They weren't going to let me through the gate otherwise. I had to think of something fast, so… I thought of you. They told me he was busy at a party." she said.

"Indeed. What's the urgency?" Drake asked.

Lady Gunilda briefly explained the important points to him over the course of the next few minutes.

A short time later, the doors of the Dining Hall opened again. Drake stood in the doorway, waiting for the Sheriff to notice him.

The Sheriff was speaking with Robert, asking him about his fighting skills when the Captain nudged him.

"Milord? I think you're wanted over at the door." Duke Farnsworth whispered.

The Sheriff looked up and to the doorway. Drake stood there, beckoning him to join him. The Sheriff nodded to Gisborne while maintaining eye contact with Drake. Drake nodded.

"Gis?" the Sheriff nudged him.

"Yes, Cousin?" Guy asked curiously, unaware of Drake standing at the doorway.

"What did I tell you about gut instinct? Trouble is amiss." he said as he nodded toward the door.

Guy took notice, wondering what Drake was up to.

"He needs us. Let's go." the Sheriff said.

Together they arose from their chairs and began to walk toward the door. Everyone stopped talking, and the only sound was their boots clicking along the floor.

The doors were closed and then the Sheriff looked to his Knight.

"What is it, Drake?"

"I'm going to let her explain it." Drake said.

"Her? Her… who?" he asked.

Drake gestured across from them where Gunilda was seated on the bench. She stood when the Sheriff noticed her and walked toward him.

"Gil — Lady Gunilda? Why are you here?"

"It's a long story, but I'll make it brief in the interest of time. You need to hear this. Forgive me, but, it couldn't wait." she said.

"Come. You can tell me in the Council Quarters." he said.

He instructed Drake to go back inside, then he and Guy took her to the meeting chamber.

A short time later they were in the room. The Sheriff closed the door and she stood before them.

"Alright, What is this about? Or, is this some kind of a trick?" the Sheriff asked.

"Not a trick. We've got a problem." Gunilda sighed.

"We? Let me guess. She got away." he huffed.

"No. She's been acting odd and talking madness the last couple of days. It's like she's invented her own little world in which she thinks she's the sane one and the rest of us are out of touch." Gunilda began.

"Didn't we already know this?" Nottingham sighed.

"Yes, but she seems to have worsened. She is delusional, Milord. Particularly, when it comes to you. She is also dangerous."

"What do you know?" he asked pointedly, with a quirk of his brow.

"She plans to somehow sneak her way in here on the morrow. Her target is your bride to be. She plans to kill her." Gunilda said.

"And… you left her alone at your… cottage?" he asked, incredulously.

"She is subdued — thanks to a tea with devil's root added into it. I'm not sure how long it will keep her down, however."

"Sounds like you have a problem waiting to be dealt with." Guy said.

"Indeed." he said, as he began to pace.

"If you want her handled, now is a good time, Milord." Gunilda reminded him.

"What is her plan?" he asked her, stopping in his tracks to face her.

"Honestly, I don't think she has much of one. The only thing I got from her is she was going to pose as a guest to get past the gate. After that, I don't think she thought it through." Gunilda said.

"That's it?"

"Oh, she tried to involve me. Wanted my help getting past the portcullis. I told her in no uncertain terms that she was on her own." she said.

"She's waiting for you, Cousin. You can finally be done with her. She's giving you that gift, all tied with a shiny ribbon." Guy said with a knowing gaze.

"She's asleep. Only a craven would kill a sleeping person." the Sheriff said, astonishing them both.

"What? But, who knows what she'll try on the morrow, Milord. I'm not sure how long I can keep her down?" Gunilda pointed out.

"I am not going to kill her when she's sound asleep in her bed." the Sheriff said.

"You must be jesting, Cousin?" Guy asked, incredulously.

"Perhaps you should let your bride to be decide?" Gunilda suggested.

"Hmm… " he pondered, as he began to pace again.

"Wait… you two seem to know something I don't. What's going on?" Guy asked, pointedly.

"He didn't mention the meeting I had with he and his lady earlier today?" Gunilda asked.

"What? No!" Guy exclaimed.

"Suffice to say that I told Gild — Lady Gunilda that I was considering her for the role of espial, pending a vetting process. Lady Rhiannon is on board with it." the Sheriff said.

"What? And, what were you about to call Lady Gunilda? Who is Gild?"

"You didn't tell him, Milord? Kind of funny, considering Lady Rhiannon knows." Gunilda smirked.

"Tell me… what?" Guy asked.

Nottingham stopped pacing, exhaled a sigh and turned to face him.

"Many moons ago, when you were only a small lad of about nine years, Gilda… Gunilda and I had a kind of… thing going on." the Sheriff said.

"We were an item… sort of." Gunilda said.

"It was a sort of… arrangement. Like a… friends with… benefits kind of arrangement." Nottingham said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"What? And, you still want to go ahead with vetting her for an espial role?" Guy asked, as he shook his head in disbelief.

"She's just proven herself to us, hasn't she, Gis?" the Sheriff pointed out.

"I… suppose so? But, does Lady Rhiannon — "

"She knows everything. The entire truth of it, and she's still on board with Gunilda staying in Nottingham, and helping us."

Guy stood frozen in place, stunned by this development.

"And, Lady Rhiannon told us both — quite adamantly, that she wanted to be the one to take care of Celestria." Gunilda added.

"Yes." Nottingham said.

"Then, what are we waiting for? We must inform her of this and let her be involved with the next steps. Time is wasting. Lady Gunilda is right." Guy said.

"Well? What say you, George?" Gunilda asked.

"It's against my better judgement, because she might not be as… thoughtful about it as I would be. But, alright. Very well. Come with us, Gilda. We'll take you to her. You can tell her what you've just told us, and I'll try to talk some sense into her." the Sheriff said.

"I can't believe you're not wanting to rush to the stables right now!" Guy muttered, as the three of them left the meeting chamber.

"The woman is in a deep sleep, Gis. I'm not in the habit of killing people who are asleep. Besides, from the sounds of it, she can't even sort out the difference between reality and fantasy, let alone come up with a solid plan. Trust me." he said.

"I hope you know what you're doing, because… I'm at a loss." Guy said, shaking his head.

A short time later they were standing outside of Madam Oberon's door. She answered the knock, greeting them with a smile as was her usual manner, but she was bewildered all the same.

"Bonsoir, mon Seigneur Sheriff. Sir Gisborne. I could swear the ladies mentioned you were celebrating this evening?" Madam Oberon asked.

"We were, Lady Arianna. A situation has come up." the Sheriff said.

"If you are looking for your ladies, I'm not sure they would want either of you to… see them just now." Madam Oberon explained with a sigh.

"We just need Lady Rhiannon." he said.

"Oh, cher. Hmm… "

"Lady Arianna! I'm not asking." Nottingham said, firmly.

"Madam Oberon?" Meridwyn called out. "What's keeping you? Can we take this slime off our — "

"Was that George's voice?" Rhiannon's asked.

A moment later they appeared at the door, their dampened hair rolled up tightly in cotton rolls on their heads; with a thick, pale orange cream on their entire faces, even on their necks, except around their eyes and their lips. Both wore their dressing gowns over a shift.

Guy couldn't help but start chuckling.

The Sheriff's eyebrow shot north, curiously. And then, he began to grin.

"George? What are you doing here?" Rhiannon asked.

"Stop laughing, Guy!" Meridwyn huffed.

"Forgive me, my lady." Guy said, as he looked down trying to conceal another chuckle.

"The hell is happening here?" the Sheriff asked.

"We're getting prepared to look like we stepped out of a painting tomorrow. This is all part of it." Rhiannon sighed as she gestured to her face and hair. "Is your party over already? What's going on?"

Meridwyn suddenly noticed the comely raven haired lady who accompanied their men. Her lashes went on for days, and the light of the torches on the walls in the corridor glinted on the sheen of the emerald green velvet cape she wore.

"Forgive me, but… who the hell are you?" Meridwyn asked. Then, a realization hit her, and fury suddenly made her blue eyes spark like blue lightening. "Wait… you're not part of the entertainment at that party of theirs, are you?" she demanded with a suspicious quirk of her brow.

"Please! Do I look like that sort of woman to you? Perhaps I need some new apparel." Gunilda frowned.

"That still doesn't tell me who the — " Meridwyn was interrupted.

"Good evening, Lady Gunilda." Rhiannon greeted her. "Perhaps you could tell me what this is about? Since, he's not saying a damn thing." she sighed, while nodding to the Sheriff.

"Rhiannon." he said, firmly.

"What? How do you know her, Rhi?" Meridwyn asked.

"Mon Dieu!" Madam Oberon sighed.

"How be you two discuss all of that later? We need to speak to my betrothed, Lady Meridwyn." the Sheriff said.

"Fine." Meridwyn huffed.

The Sheriff nodded for Rhiannon to join them in the corridor. She followed them outside the door. The Sheriff took a look around first before beginning the conversation. Satisfied that no one was nearby, he spoke.

"Lady Gunilda arrived recently with an urgent message, Rhiannon. You need to hear it, given your implicit intentions you conveyed to us this morning." he began.

"What is it?" she asked them both.

"Celestria has become completely unhinged, Lady Rhiannon. She is living in a delusional fantasy world, but she has made her intentions known to me only hours ago." Gunilda began.

"I see. And, what is that?"

"She plans to sneak into the castle on the morrow, posing as a guest with the intent of murder. Her target is you." Gunilda said.

"Cursed bitch!" Rhiannon exclaimed in a whisper.

Guy was surprised by her word choice. He looked to the floor and grinned.

"Why did it take this long to report this if she told you hours ago?" Rhiannon asked.

"Because, I needed time to knock her out and make sure she stays out before I bade you warning. I thought I was giving your plan a little push to get you started, but… " Gunilda sighed, letting her words trail off.

"But… what?" Rhiannon asked, pointedly.

"He doesn't — " Gunilda was interrupted.

"The woman is asleep, Rhiannon. Must you be reminded?" the Sheriff asked.

"So? Who bloody well cares? Why didn't you bring my cape? I say we saddle up! I need my cape, and I'm going to need your dagger, George. It's time for me to kill the bitch. The universe just granted me a nice wee gift. Let's go!" Rhiannon said firmly, then started to head back to Madam Oberon's quarters to inform her, and her sisters in law she'd be out for a time.

"I just love to see such alacrity. Don't you, George?" Gunilda smirked.

Nottingham sighed.

Rhiannon turned around and frowned, when she noticed he wasn't moving.

"Come on, George!" Rhiannon urged him.

"You seriously want to go… like that?" he asked, nodding to the cream and the rolled up hair.

"I can quickly rinse the cream from my face. As for the rest, that's what wimples are for. Why are you just standing there? Let's not tarry!" she exclaimed in a whisper, and motioned with her hand for him to join her.

"No." he said, simply.

"I thought you were letting Lady Rhiannon decide?" Guy asked him.

"What the hell is the matter with you, George? How much did you drink at your party?" Rhiannon pouted. She moved toward him again, then folded her arms.

"I'm sound, Rhiannon. And, clearly, you are not. Your eyes are reddened and glassy. This is why I'm more fit to strategize than you are." he admonished in a whisper. "You are being informed out of courtesy. You shall be involved in the plan; but, we are not going to kill her while she sleeps." a beat. "Are you a fighter, or a craven, Rhiannon?"

"What?" she asked, incredulously.

"Only a craven would act in such a manner." he said.

"This is ridiculous, George!" she exclaimed in a whisper.

"I'll say!" Guy muttered.

"So, I guess that's a firm no. Great. Here's an idea: how about you give me some direction on how I'm to deal with the wretched girl, while you two decide on step two?" Gunilda sighed, shaking her head.

"You shall have protection." the Sheriff said.

"What? George, she wouldn't need protection if you'd just let me get on with it!" Rhiannon exclaimed in a whisper.

"No, Rhiannon. My decision is firm. Gunilda shall be given protection. If the whore decides to leave that cottage, she'll be arrested for conspiracy to commit murder by the Knight assigned to Gunilda's home. In the meantime, we come up with a solid plan." Nottingham said.

Rhiannon sighed. She stared into his eyes and shook her head, slowly.

"You're serious." she said.

"Dead serious. And, don't you dare even think about running off to take care of this on your own! You hear me?" he demanded quietly, with his arms folded.

Rhiannon put her palm to her forehead as she shook her head and sighed. Then she frowned as she pulled her hand away and looked at it.

"Curses! Look what you made me do!" Rhiannon huffed.

The Sheriff shook his head and sighed.

Gunilda couldn't help but quietly giggle. She looked down to conceal it. From her observations, Lady Rhiannon was just the sort of woman that George needed. There would never be a dull moment with her, which was perfect because from what she recalled, he loathed monotony and boredom.

Guy just continued chuckling. He couldn't quite get over the sight in front of him, and the state of his wife, too. He frequently needed to look to the floor and cover his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter.

Rhiannon reached into the pocket of her dressing gown with her clean hand and extracted a handkerchief. Then, she quickly wiped the cream from her hand.

"Promise me you'll stay put!" he demanded.

"Very well." she sighed.

"Gis, don't let me forget to assign someone to Madam Oberon's door to ensure we don't have a runner!" he said to Guy.

"Noted, Cousin." Guy smirked.

"Honestly, George, there's no nee — "

"I know you better than anyone, my lady. There is definitely a need to make sure you don't try something impulsive and reckless." he said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Very well." Rhiannon sighed. Then she looked to Gunilda. "I appreciate you coming so late to warn us."

"Of course, Lady Rhiannon." Gunilda smiled.

"George, see that someone escorts her home. She shouldn't be unaccompanied. It's dangerous after dark." Rhiannon said.

"Of course, my lady. The one assigned to guard her will be escorting her." he said.

"Good." Rhiannon nodded.

"And, you should heed your own advice." he said.

"Of course." she sighed.

"So, that's it?" Guy asked.

"For now." he said.

"What's the plan when the mistress awakens on the morrow?"

"She's been given another day to breathe. It all depends on her actions on the morrow. If she tries to leave she will be arrested. If not, we pay her a visit." Nottingham said with a knowing look.

"I see. We best step up security at the portcullis, too." Guy suggested.

"All measures will be taken, Guy." the Sheriff nodded.

"If you'd let me deal with it now, it would save you the trouble." Rhiannon pointed out.

"Do not worry, my lady. You shall have your moment." he smiled.

"Alright." she muttered.

"Has she threatened you in any way, Gilda?" he asked.

"No." Gunilda said.

"Have you protection?"

"Yes." Gunilda smirked.

"Good. Keep a dagger on you just in case. She can't be trusted. Remember that." the Sheriff instructed her.

"I know. I'm fully aware. I will keep myself armed." Gunilda nodded.

The Sheriff took a quick look around to be certain they were alone.

"You still do that… witchery stuff, don't you, Gilda?" the Sheriff whispered.

"Are you trying to out me, Milord?" she whispered, incredulously.

"There's no one around. If you're going to be my eyes and ears, you must learn to pay attention to your surroundings." he said softly, with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"I don't generally speak of such things. I prefer to remain an enigma." Gunilda said with her eyebrow quirked.

"That's why we're whispering, Gilda. You can speak of it with us." he said.

"What is your purpose for asking?" Gunilda asked, quietly.

"If you've seen anything, you could tell us. You know? Like… portents." the Sheriff whispered.

"Alright." Gunilda whispered.

Then she looked to all of them and beckoned for them to lean in closer to her. They followed her lead and looked into her eyes, eager to listen.

"I do practice. Not religiously, and I keep it secret. I can see portents, and I see other things, too. I use fire gazing, and water gazing to see what I need to. Other methods work, but not as well for me for portents." Gilda whispered to them.

"So, you do things differently than Mortianna would." Rhiannon said.

"If she uses other methods, then, yes." Gunilda nodded.

"So, there's no practice guidelines you all follow?" Nottingham asked.

"No. Each one has different abilities, and preferences which they use. Each have individual beliefs, too. Witches are basically just misunderstood people, in that they have certain… unexplained abilities that confuse the hell out of regular people." Gunilda explained, softly.

"Right. Okay, have you seen anything about the consort when you've been staring into fire, or water?" he asked.

"I don't have as much time to practice these days, but a couple of days ago, I saw something. All I could see was inside her own mind — and that was a scary experience, I can tell you. It was mostly her perception of things, and a few flashes of images she was thinking about." Gunilda whispered.

"Did any of what you think you saw tie in with the present situation?" Guy whispered.

"No. I don't think so. She is quite preoccupied with fantasies involving Milord, though. Still, none of it made sense. I'm telling you… that girl isn't right." Gunilda frowned.

"Curses!" Rhiannon whispered.

"Hmm. Maybe it's best you get this over with, Cousin." Guy suggested.

"That's what I'm saying!" Rhiannon exclaimed softly, in frustration.

"No. We're sticking to the plan." the Sheriff said, firmly. Then her looked back at Gunilda. "Do you have any tricks up your sleeve you might use on her? Like, what was that you steeped in her tea? Was it belladonna?" he whispered.

"Yes."

"The same plant you badgered Mortianna for?" he demanded in a whisper.

"My quantity is getting a bit low." Gunilda shrugged.

"Do you have anything else?" he sighed.

"I have godflesh mushrooms. Don't know how much good those will be for her, though." Gunilda sighed.

"Why? What do those variety of mushrooms do?" Rhiannon whispered.

"They heighten the senses. Colours are more intensified. Sometimes they even move. Some people see things that aren't there."

"That's sounds… unsettling." Guy shuddered.

"So, nothing helpful, then?" Nottingham sighed.

"I'm afraid not. Not until I can stock up on a few things; but, she's a handful. I don't like leaving her, because now — I don't trust her. I wouldn't want to try those mushrooms. She already imagines things that aren't real. If she could see things that weren't real… well, I don't know what would be worse — the state she's in now? Or… that." Gunilda said.

"I see. If you must use something to keep her malleable, I'll leave it to you, since you're the expert." Nottingham said.

"Of course." Gunilda nodded.

The Sheriff nodded for Guy to follow him, away from where the ladies stood. When there was enough distance where they wouldn't be overheard, he spoke.

"I'll give you a moment to speak to your wife and bid her goodnight. Then, I want you to take Gunilda downstairs. Have Drake escort her back to her cottage. He shall be assigned to guard her, because for some reason, she seems to trust him. Then, I want you to find someone who isn't drunk to guard Madam Oberon's door. If I don't put a man on door duty, Rhiannon is going to run — straight to Gilda's home to deal with the cursed, pain in my ass whore." Nottingham said, firmly. A beat. "I swear. The bitch is like a cursed rash that won't go away!"

"Of course, George. But, are you really concerned your lady will attempt to go there? Firstly, she doesn't know where Lady Gunilda lives. Secondly, look at the state of her?" Guy asked with a chuckle.

"Never underestimate how clever and resourceful my lady can be, Gis. She wouldn't let anything stop her. Not even a bunch of… whatever those things are on her head!" he huffed. "I've no doubt she could find that cottage if she set her mind to it, too." he added.

"Very well. Consider it done, Cousin." Guy nodded.

"I know what you're doing with the cream mask, and your hair, Lady Rhiannon. I know it looks strange now, but, trust me. I think you'll look glorious on the morrow." Gunilda smiled to Rhiannon.

"Thank you, Lady Gunilda. I certainly hope so." Rhiannon nodded.

Guy instructed Lady Gunilda to follow him, and he stopped at Madam Oberon's door for a moment to speak to Meridwyn.

The Sheriff took his lady down the corridor a little way to speak to her privately.

"Trust me, my lady. You shall be kept safe at all times." the Sheriff said as he placed his hands gently upon her shoulders.

"Of course, my love. I know you've thought this through, even though I still disagree." Rhiannon said with a quirk of her brow.

"There will be someone assigned at Madam Oberon's door tonight. You must promise me you won't try to knock him out somehow, or maim him in a foolish attempt to run off and finish this."

"Yes, George. I promise." she said.

"Say it again." he said.

Rhiannon sighed.

"I promise I won't hurt your guard and run off to finish her… even though every part of me is urging me otherwise."

"Good. Now, were you having a good time before I arrived?"

"It's interesting, I'll say that for it. Madam Oberon gave us a good wine to enjoy. Although, Meridwyn isn't drinking." a beat. "What about you?"

"It was good. I imagine it's going to be wrapping up soon, if it hasn't already — since we left them for a time." he smiled.

"I'm glad you came to see me about this before deciding what to do about the situation. You sure we're safe from her?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes."

"And, can you be sure Gunilda will be safe?"

"Drake is going to accompany her and protect her. Gunilda is able to handle herself, as well. I'm not leaving anything to chance, my lady." he said.

"Of course. I know you wouldn't. Forgive me. I guess… I was just caught off guard." she said.

The Sheriff began to chuckle.

"What is it, George?" Rhiannon asked as she folded her arms.

"It is noth — "

"It's alright. Say it, George." Rhiannon sighed.

"Forgive me. It's just… difficult to take you seriously at the moment." he grinned.

"If you can still love me after seeing me like this, then… I know your love is true." Rhiannon whispered.

"Of course it is, my lady."

"Curses. I can't even kiss you like this." she huffed.

"It's quite alright." he grinned.

She leaned in and kissed his cheek softly, careful not to let the cream on her face transfer to him.

"I know I'm a bit early for this, but… Happy Birthday, my love. I shall say it again on the morrow sometime." Rhiannon smiled.

"Thank you, my angel." he said as he kissed her hand. "Forgive me, but your hand is about the only thing I can kiss right now. You even have that cream on your neck." he sighed.

"Madam Oberon says it's a brightening, moisturizing face mask." she said.

"I'll take your word for it." he grinned. "And, what's up with your hair?" he asked, nodding to the rollers on her head.

"They're meant to add curl." she replied.

"Oh. Then, why does Meridwyn have those on her head, too?"

"Madam Oberon swears it will help tame her hair." she shrugged.

"I see. Sort of. Did Madam Oberon do the same to Isabelle?"

"Yes. We're told we shall look better than ever for it. You must let me know if that is so, my love." she said.

"You don't need to do anything to look your best. You just naturally shine, already." he smiled. "Come, my angel. Let's get you back inside to join the ladies. Then, I'll catch up with Guy." he said as he offered her his arm.

She took it and he led her back to Madam Oberon's chambers.

As Rhiannon was speaking with Madam Oberon at the door before she went inside, the Sheriff was distracted by voices coming out of the room next door. One of the voices he recognized as Floria's.

"Don't be… how you say? I know. Fucking stupid." a young girl's voice said, sternly. She spoke with a French accent. He guessed that was Lady Arianna's daughter; and he couldn't help but wonder what she was referring to?

"You know not of what you speak of, Marie." Floria said.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?"

"For heaven's sake, Marie! You don't know." Floria said.

"I can… tell… things."

"Sure." Floria sighed as she closed her door. "Let's just get the rest of your things."

"Okay. Oui."

After the door was closed they walked toward Madam Oberon's door, and were stunned to see the Sheriff standing there.

"Oh. Good evening, Milord." Floria nodded. "Have you met Marie?" she asked, nodding to the young dark haired girl with the same eyes as her mother.

"Bonsoir, mon Seigneur Sheriff." Marie nodded.

"Good evening." he nodded to them both.

"Marie? Qu'est-ce que c'est?" Madam Oberon asked her daughter.

Marie opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

"She forgot a few things, Madam Oberon. We won't be but a moment, then we'll be out of your hair." Floria said.

"Very well. Do come in from that drafty corridor, mes chers!" Madam Oberon said as she held the door for them.

"What's going on, Lady Arianna?" the Sheriff asked.

"It is nothing, mon Seigneur Sheriff. My daughter is staying with Floria overnight. Just a change in accommodations to allow for my guests. Less crowded in here, you see." Madam Oberon smiled.

"Yes. Of course." he nodded.

"I'll leave you two alone while I check on the girls." the seamstress said. Then she left to assist her daughter.

"Goodnight, my angel. Remember your promise to me, and sleep well." the Sheriff said to Rhiannon as he kissed her hand.

"I haven't forgotten. Goodnight, my love. I'm not sure how well I'll sleep with these things in my hair. And, I'll be cold without you." she smiled.

"Wait… you must have those in place while you sleep?" he asked.

"Yes. Can you imagine?" she sighed.

"No. I'd rather not, frankly."

"I guess I'll find out on the morrow whether beauty equals pain." she smirked.

"I would say no, because you're already beautiful, my angel." he winked.

A short time later he arrived on the main level and was heading back to the Dining Hall. He was surprised to see that Lady Gunilda was still there. She was with Drake outside of the Dining Hall as he was speaking to Guy. The Sheriff walked toward them, curious what the hold up was.

"Is there a problem?" the Sheriff asked as he stopped in front of his men.

"No, Cousin." Guy said.

"Just waiting for further direction from you, Milord." Drake said.

"Did my Lieutenant not tell you your assignment? You're to escort Lady Gunilda to her home. Then, you will guard her home, and protect her." he said, firmly.

"Yes. I am aware of that; but, how will we explain this to the former consort who is staying there? I understand she has a plan to gain entrance on the morrow, and try to harm your lady?"

"That is fact, Drake." he said.

"She shall question my presence there, Milord. How do you want that handled?" Drake asked.

"He does have a point, Milord. True, she lives in some bizarre kind of fantasy land, but she will question it." Gunilda added.

"Do not worry." he assured her, then he turned to his Knight. "You shall just have to improvise, Drake. I don't care what you tell her, just think of something. You two best be on your way before she wakes from her induced slumber." he said, firmly.

"Of course, Milord." Drake nodded.

Then, Drake walked with Lady Gunilda in the direction of the main entrance.

"Seems like a lot of measures need to be taken when the problem could have been easily solved by now." Guy said.

"Whatever." Nottingham muttered.

"Since when do you care if someone you want dead anyway is asleep or not while you do the deed?" Guy asked.

"We're not doing this now, Guy. The wedding is only hours away now. Things can go wrong. You know this! My lady is still recovering from the injuries that cursed bitch inflicted on her last week; and then, she delivered our child in a state like that. Rhiannon has been through enough. It's too soon for her to put herself in danger again." the Sheriff whispered, adamantly.

"So, that's the real reason? The part about killing sleeping people being a craven thing to do was just a front?"

"Now, you're getting it, Gis. Congratulations. It's true, I wouldn't kill a sleeping person — normally. But, even though the cursed consort needs to go, I can't allow Rhiannon to do that now. I told her I will back her up when the time comes, and I will. But, she still has some healing to do, and we have a wedding to attend." he said.

"Makes sense when you put it that way. But, why not just deal with the matter yourself instead of wasting time involving your lady? It could have been over with by now." Guy pointed out.

"Because my lady was adamant that she wanted to handle it."

"Okay?" Guy shrugged.

"She is capable. And, I will be there to back her up and see it through."

"I see."

"Good. Then, perhaps you'll quit pestering me about it." he huffed.

They opened the doors and rejoined the men.

Nottingham knew that Guy was right. It would have been quicker and easier if he had just taken care of the matter without her. But, he promised her she could have this moment, after she had made her wishes known. Except for being relieved that she knew about Gilda, and was seemingly understanding about her, the Sheriff wished Rhiannon hadn't shown up to his meeting with Gilda. Because then, he wouldn't have known about her desire to kill the consort, and it would have been over with by now.