It was breezy and chill, yet clear on Wednesday even when Drake was making his way over to Lady Gunilda's cottage. His path was illuminated by a waxing moon, the blueish white streaks of light bathed the landscape in a soft glow. He was in a merry mood, quite looking forward to her company. He arrived at the cottage and secured his horse. As he awaited an answer to his knock, he smoothed his shiny dark hair, hoping his appearance was acceptable.

He was stunned when she opened the door. She stood before him wearing a wine coloured velvet gown, cut straight across her shoulders. The bodice was laced in ribbon matching her gown. Her shiny raven hair was in a loose chignon. She smiled and held the door open.

"Good evening, Drake. How novel to see you out of uniform. I do hope you brought your appetite with you?"

"Indeed, my lady. I can smell the tantalizing aromas of whatever it is you're cooking from here." Drake smiled.

"Good. Do come in and make yourself comfortable. It is awfully chill out there." Gunilda smiled as she held the door open for him.

She led him into the sitting room where she already had a fire blazing in the fireplace.

"I brought something with me." he said. He reached to the inside pocket of his surcoat and produced a large flask. "I thought it was my turn to provide the libations. It's the least I could do." Drake smiled as he passed it to her.

"Thank you, Drake. That's quite generous and thoughtful of you." she said as she took it from him. "I shall get some goblets for us. Please. Be seated."

"Very well." he nodded.

She left him for a few moments, then returned with two goblets in her hands.

"What is it you're cooking, Lady Gunilda? It smells amazing, I must say."

"Just a little something I threw together. Don't worry. It's definitely not lizard meat." she chuckled.

"Of course, Milady." he smiled.

Gunilda set to work pouring from the flask he brought with him. She passed him a goblet, then seated herself in a chair, leaning toward him.

"Here's to a fine evening, Milady." Drake smiled as he raised his goblet to her.

Their goblets touched, and then they tasted of the pleasing wine.

"Oh, my! It's quite smooth. I like it! Thank you for bringing it, Drake." Gunilda smiled, warmly.

"Of course. I'm pleased you like it. I like it, too." Drake said, as he took another sip of it.

"So, what news since we parted last night? Have you heard if you'll be sent away as yet?" she asked, curiously.

"No. There's been nothing mentioned about that; however, tomorrow, I'll be joining in the search mission in Nottingham. I was informed by the Captain as I finished my duties at the portcullis." Drake quickly explained.

"That must be a rather boring assignment — being stationed at the portcullis." she frowned.

"It has its moments, but it can be unexpectedly challenging, too. In a good way, most of the time. Milord Sheriff would argue that it's an important assignment." he said as he took a sip of the wine.

"Yes, I'm sure. You're the first line of defence for the castle against all manner of intruders, I suppose."

"Indeed."

"You look quite different out of uniform, Drake." she smiled, appreciatively.

"I do?"

"Indeed. It's quite appealing, I must say."

"Thank you, Milady. You're looking quite lovely, too. Which is surprising, since you've obviously been labouring in your kitchen." he added.

"Thank you. The cooking is no bother, though."

"If it's anything like what you served me yesterday to break my fast, I'm sure it will be enjoyable." Drake smiled.

"Indeed. That's what I'm striving for, Drake — to make this evening enjoyable for you." Lady Gunilda smirked.

"Indeed, my lady. I've no doubt it will be." Drake said. He tugged at his collar, suddenly feeling slightly warm.

The Sheriff made his way down the long circular steps that led down into Mortianna's apothecary. He expected to see her when he arrived at the base of the steps, but she wasn't there to greet him, oddly. He walked a little further and called out to her.

"Madam? Where are you? Was that you, or your cursed bird who rang the bells?" he called, impatiently, shaking his head.

The diminutive crone arrived to him in moments. She had a look of concern in her countenance. The Sheriff looked upon her, questioningly.

"Come, Milord. I have a report as well as portents to impart to thee at this time." Mortianna said as she beckoned him to follow her inside.

"What is it, Madam?" he asked as they stood inside, standing near the table in her apothecary.

"I hate to do this, but I must share something regarding a private meeting I had earlier this day." Mortianna began.

"Whom did you meet with? Was it my wife?" he asked.

"No." she sighed.

"Well, it must be rather important since you summoned me. Out with it, Madam." Nottingham said firmly, while folding his arms.

"Someone rather surprising, Milord. It was… Lady Isabelle." she announced.

"Hmm. I bet I can guess what that was about. Batwing tea, I imagine."

"Indeed, but that was not all." Mortianna sighed. "She revealed that ye know of her condition. I debated for a time about sharing this, but… since you're aware… "

"Satan's teeth, Madam! What is it?" he demanded.

"She asked me to make her a concoction that will… terminate the condition she is in, Milord. She is convinced that shall be the outcome, anyway." Mortianna frowned.

"That is unfortunate, but, why are you telling me this? Shouldn't you be speaking with Robert?"

"After she finished her cup of tea, she left the room for a few moments to retrieve a woollen shawl. I seized the opportunity to peer into her cup. I needed answers before agreeing to proceed with such a request." Mortianna explained.

"If you saw portents relating to Lady Isabelle and Robert, is it wise to be sharing this with me?" he pointed out.

"It is — if it involves your son, Milord." Mortianna said, simply.

"What?" Nottingham asked, incredulously. "Back up a bit. What the hell does Isabelle's current state have to do with my son?" a beat. "Is she planning to kidnap him, or something similar?"

"No, child. Nothing like that. I saw far into the future, yet, I did not see Lady Isabelle." she hinted.

"What did you see?" he asked.

"I saw her child. A son. I also saw your son. They were together in the vision. They seemed quite close. They appeared to be friends, as well as comrades." the witch said.

"I don't think I've ever heard you comment that you could see that far into the future?"

"That is true. This was a first, indeed." she nodded.

"How far into the future? Could you estimate their age?" the Sheriff asked, curiously.

"I would guess about the age that your Knight, Luke, is now." she said.

The Sheriff's eyes widened in astonishment.

"What… did they look like?" he asked softly.

"Your son looked much like you at that age. The Wordsworths' son looked like Robert. Does it really matter, child?"

"It does if I'm not here to see it." he pointed out.

"The important thing to glean from the glimpse into the future I was shown is that Robert and Isabelle's son will have an important role around here." Mortianna said with a knowing look.

"Could you tell If my son was… Sheriff of Nottingham?" he asked, curiously.

"Merlin's wand, child! Ye wont be that old at that time! That's the second comment ye have made implying ye expect to be dead." Mortianna sighed. "No. I don't think he was. That means you're probably still living then. However, when the time comes, he shall be — will he not?"

"That is the plan — when I retire." Nottingham smirked.

"And, Robert's son will be at his side in some way. That was my impression of this brief peak into what is supposed to unfold."

"Hmm. So, what am I to do with this information, Mortianna? Does Robert know she summoned you?"

"No. He does not."

"Why not just convey to her what you've just told me? Surely, if she hears the child shall not only survive the pregnancy, but shall also live to be at least twenty years, that will give her pause — would it not?" Nottingham pointed out.

"Truthfully, I'm not sure she'd believe it, child." Mortianna sighed.

"Why wouldn't she?" he pressed.

"Because, I endeavoured very firmly to dissuade her from the outset. I listed every possible reason why this was not such a wise decision on her part." Mortianna explained.

"You honestly think she wouldn't believe you?"

"She is determined, Milord. It is rather curious. She revealed that she and Robert very much want a child, but she is convinced it shall be lost to her, as with her last four." Mortianna explained.

"This is certainly a dilemma." the Sheriff frowned.

"Most definitely. Ye know I generally refrain from sharing what I see involving other people; but, that child she wishes to destroy shall live, and, from the looks of things, will be just as important to your son as Guy and Nichol are to you." she said with a knowing quirk of her brow.

The Sheriff paused a few moments before responding.

"What if you indulge her?" he asked.

"Ye wish me to move forward with her plan? To make her a brew that shall terminate her pregnancy?" Mortianna asked, astonished at what he proposed.

"No. Of course, not. What if you offered her something that will have no ill effects on she, nor the child? Yet, she would believe it's the potion, or tea, or whatever it is that she requested of you." the Sheriff suggested.

"I could try, Milord."

"Do you think she would truly want this child? She told me the same thing — she's convinced she will pass it by Yule." a beat. "What if her statement is only a cover, and she truly desires to be rid of the child, regardless?"

"No. She told me she thought she was damaged. She wants this child, but, she's convinced she's incapable of safely carrying a child."

"Then, I hate to say it, but tricking her might be the only option. If they both desire to have a child, and that child is going to be important to my son, then it's ludicrous to follow through with her request."

"Now, I wish I had thought of that myself." Mortianna said.

"Was there anyone else with them in this vision of yours?" he asked, curiously.

"I was mostly focused on the two lads. Alas, it was a few brief moments before it faded away. They were in the courtyard. It looked like midsummer. Although, I do recall seeing two maidens approaching them. One was fair haired, the other had ginger coloured hair. I couldn't tell you if they were friends, relatives, or paramours, to be honest." Mortianna shrugged.

"Interesting." Nottingham mused as he stroked the whiskers of his beard.

"I suppose, Milord."

"If she insists on proceeding with this plan of hers, offer her something that will cause no ill effects. One day, she shall be thankful, but, she need never know you told me, or tricked her." a beat. "Is it really considered trickery if we're doing something that shall spare she and Robert of further grief?" he reasoned.

"I suppose not, Milord." the witch shrugged.

"Good. Problem solved." Nottingham smirked.

Rhiannon awoke feeling quite warm. She was still fully dressed as she didn't intend to fall asleep. She didn't see her husband, so assumed he might have been called away. She grabbed her cape and draped it over one arm, thinking a few moments on the balcony would do her some good. Perhaps some fresh air might clear her head?

The corridor was quiet, save for the odd servant who passed by her. She thought about her discussion with her husband, and how it nearly escalated into a quarrel. He did start to soften when she was forthright about Isabelle's odd behaviour, though. He put his foot down about Isabelle's peculiar request, but Rhiannon thought she detected a change in him at that point. Like, he was possibly reconsidering. She decided she wouldn't say anything to her sister in law until she clarified with him one more time, perhaps on the morrow, that this was his final decision on the matter.

She quietly opened the The balcony doors, and then was glad she took such care. Isabelle was there, leaning over the parapet. She didn't appear to be retching, but she seemed to be looking down to the ground immediately below her.

Rhiannon stood a moment, wondering what was going on with her sister in law. She stood with her back against the wall, then took a breath and spoke.

"Isabelle." she said, softly.

She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard her sister in law curse under her breath.

Isabelle straightened, then slowly turned around. Her eyes appeared expressionless and a bit glazed over. She looked to Rhiannon for perhaps a second or two, then averted eye contact.

"Are you… unwell?" Rhiannon asked.

"I'm fine. Just… taking in the scenery." Isabelle replied quickly, in a curious monotone.

"You don't look right. Did you… quarrel with Robert?"

"No."

"Where is he?"

"We're not attached at the hip, Rhiannon." Isabelle sighed, hoping her sister in law would return from whence she came and leave her alone.

"Of course not. I didn't mean to imply that you're dependent on him." Rhiannon said, scanning her expression, curiously.

"Why are you out here? You haven't even donned your cape."

"I was quite warm, so I came to get a breath of air. It would seem, you had the same idea."

"Yes." Isabelle nodded, looking downcast.

"You appear… troubled." Rhiannon remarked.

"Why? Because I'm here alone, without my husband?"

"No. Because you haven't looked at me for longer than two seconds, and you seem quite distracted." Rhiannon observed.

"So, you expect cheerful Isabelle at all times, I suppose?"

"No. But, you have a wall up around you for some reason. You don't have to be merry all of the time, but, you're not generally terse, either." Rhiannon pointed out.

"Am I?" Isabelle asked. She put her hand to her face to wipe an angry tear away from her cheek, still keeping her head down.

"Well, yes. I've never seen you… like this."

"You mustn't concern yourself. I'm fine. Honestly." Isabelle said, flatly.

"What was so captivating that you were looking at down in the courtyard?" Rhiannon asked. She thought a topic change might be helpful.

"Gravity." Isabelle muttered.

"Excuse me?" Rhiannon asked.

"Scenery."

"What?"

"It looks… nice with the torches blazing down there — despite the autumn decay of the fallen leaves." she began. "Like me." she muttered.

"What? You're not making much sense, Sist — "

"Must be the wine I had with the evening meal." Isabelle lied.

"I see. Well, that's good that you were well enough to enjoy some — "

"Why wouldn't I be?" Isabelle abruptly asked.

"Because earlier in the day, you certainly didn't look like you would be interested in a goblet of wine." Rhiannon reminded her.

"That was then."

"Maybe I should walk you to your chambers?" Rhiannon suggested.

"No."

"I am not leaving you here." Rhiannon said, firmly.

"I don't need minding. Get back to your husband, Rhiannon."

"Have I… offended you in any way?" Rhiannon asked, curiously.

"No." Isabelle said, still keeping her head down.

"Why don't you continue what you were doing, and I'll walk you back when you're ready?" Rhiannon suggested.

"No. I'm capable of returning without assistance."

"I know, but I think that would be wise."

"I just need air, and to be left alone. Kindly leave me."

"Isabelle?"

"Leave me, Rhiannon. I know you mean well, but, go."

"Very well." Rhiannon sighed.

She waved down one of the guards on her way back, asking him to go to the balcony and watch her sister in law from the door. She had an uneasy feeling come over her, but she couldn't put her finger on exactly why.

Inside the cozy warmth of Lady Gunilda's cottage, the evening was progressing splendidly. They had just began to taste of the evening meal.

"You're quite the cook, Milady, I must say." Drake said as he took another bite of roasted rabbit.

"I'm glad you like it. I'm fairly good at it, but it doesn't have the same satisfaction if I'm only cooking for myself. I wouldn't go to such lengths for just myself." Gunilda said.

"I see. Understandable, I suppose."

"Indeed."

"Milady, I've a question I've been meaning to ask." Drake said.

"Oh? What is that Drake?"

"That… charge of yours. The maiden that caused quite the calamity at Milord's wedding fete. You… knew her?"

"Indeed." Gunilda sighed.

"How?"

"Her parents live in the neighbouring home where I lived in Derbyshire." a beat. "Truthfully, I got along better with her father. Her mother was always a shady sort of creature, but it worsened in the last couple of years. Anyway, Celestria would stop by sometimes while she was living there. I think it was to escape the pressure that was put on her to help raise the multitude of children that never quit coming, personally. Although, that is only speculation." Gunilda said, then took a sip of wine.

"So, you wouldn't characterize her as a friend, then?"

"No. I would open my door to her out of sympathy. I didn't mind most of the time, yet, each time I was relieved when she went back home." Gunilda admitted.

"I think we've all encountered a few people like that." Drake said.

"Indeed. And, now that's behind me. I'm finally enjoying the peace I've been craving. Freedom is one thing, but if you haven't a sense of peace to go with it, it's meaningless." she said, then took a bite of mashed potatoes.

"I'm relieved she's no longer a concern to you. She was quite a… handful, to say the least." Drake remarked.

"Very accurately put, Drake." Gunilda nodded.

Luke had just donned his surcoat on his way out the door of his chambers. He was planning to go to Floria's door to ask if she'd like to accompany him on an evening walk through the courtyard. He was surprised when he opened the door and found Nichol standing before him, his hand poised to knock.

"Nichol? Good even. What can I do for you? Are you sure you have the right door?" Luke asked, curiously.

"Indeed, since it was you I was looking for." Nichol said.

"Me? But… why?"

"Well, you shall be accompanying us on the morrow to Massacriar's shop. We need you alert. Even manning the door requires alertness."

"I am aware, and you don't need to remind me of that. My orders come from Milord Sheriff, the Lieutenant, and the Captain. As far as I can tell, you hold none of those titles. Although, I do appreciate your attention to detail." Luke shrugged.

"I shall be training you, Luke. Your ability to focus is a concern of mine. I've accepted the positions he has offered me. When I'm training you, I need your utmost attention."

"Well, congratulations to you. I know that undoubtedly pleases him. I'm not one you should concern yourself with, however." Luke muttered.

"You make it sound like there is someone among you who should raise concern." Nichol remarked with a questioning quirk of his brow.

"No. I think you misinterpreted what I said. You're twisting my words." Luke sighed.

"Perhaps. I do have questions about what I personally observed today, however."

"Come inside, Nichol." Luke said as he held the door for him. "I'd rather not discuss… whatever it is we're discussing — out in the corridor."

Nichol nodded and entered inside Luke's quarters.

"What do you mean, exactly? When we were visiting Samson's shop? Did I conduct myself improperly, Nichol?" Luke asked curiously, after the door was safely closed.

"No, Luke. Not at all." Nichol said.

"Then, what are you referring to?"

"The restraint hold that Mordrid and Ancel had you in, which was observed by myself and your employer as we exited the Council Quarters." Nichol stated, his green eyes narrowed, questioningly.

"That was explained to Milord Sheriff." Luke replied, dismissively.

"Enlighten me."

"Why don't you ask him?" Luke argued.

"I'm asking you, Luke."

Luke sighed before responding. "I was feeling… unsteady on my feet. The men were assisting me to the Dining Hall."

"Assisting using a restraint hold? Really. And, he accepted that excuse?" Nichol said, then clicked his tongue against his palate a few beats.

"Will we be needing to answer to you now? Is that it? We already addressed this with the man who matters." Luke pointed out.

"You will need to — when I am training you, Luke." Nichol said, firmly.

"Fine, but you're not training me right now."

"Are you feeling… a little irritable lately?" Nichol asked.

"Pardon?"

"I knew a man once. Many, many years ago. He… took a poison that he thought would raise his alertness and… help him perform his duties better." Nichol said, softly.

"What?" Luke asked, slowly.

"And, it seemed for a short time he could manage it, except… he wasn't."

"What are you driving at?"

"Tell me about… Saturday night." Nichol asked, pointedly.

"What? He told you, didn't he! Curses! Why would he divulge something so highly personal?" Luke huffed.

"Because… I have experience in that regard, Luke. He didn't go into detail." Nichol said, never breaking eye contact.

Luke put his palm to his forehead and looked to the floor. His head was swimming with a sudden recollection of what the Sheriff told him on Saturday night, right after Thomas first saw him and administered opium and belladonna to him. The Sheriff stayed with him for a time, until he was asleep.

Luke walked slowly to a chair and seated himself. He was shaking his head when he remembered what it was the Sheriff told him, right after he told the Sheriff he would have been right to sack him, even kill him.

"I've been down this path before. I didn't give up on him, and I certainly wasn't going to give up on you." Luke could hear his voice speaking to him as if he were back in that moment.

He recalled that he asked him why, and remembered what the Sheriff said next:

"Because he was extraordinary, and… so are you."

Luke then recalled asking if the person he was referring to had died because of the poison. It was all coming back to Luke, the words the Sheriff spoke that night, in quick succession:

"He did die, Luke. But, not because of the drug he experimented with. My cousin and I got through to him. He lived for many years after, but, he is gone now… The man was a friend."

The man was a friend.

Luke's eyes widened in astonishment.

"Luke? Are you… alright?" Nichol asked.

"It was you, wasn't it? The one you just told me about." Luke said as he slowly raised his head and looked into Nichol's eyes.

"Well, that's encouraging that your perception hasn't been altered." a beat. "Yes, Luke. It was me. I took a drug, too. For the same reason that I'm guessing you did — to improve performance. Foolish notion! Only strength building and training can do that. No poison is worth it." Nichol said, shaking his head. He took a few steps and took a seat in a chair across from Luke, leaning his walking stick against it.

"I guess… I have been a bit irritable since I stopped taking it." Luke sighed.

"There are ways of helping with that." Nichol smiled.

"How… did you manage in the days that followed?" Luke asked, suddenly interested in what Nichol had to say about the matter.

"Thomas was a help at first. Let me guess. He offered opium and possibly dwale to get you over the body aches, and relax you enough to be able to take food?" Nichol asked.

"Close. It was opium and belladonna." Luke said. "Except, that stopped days ago."

"And, you're still… craving whatever you took, correct?" Nichol asked, tentatively.

"Yes." Luke sighed.

"That's when Mortianna stepped in to help in my case." Nichol said.

"How? What would she know?"

"You'd be surprised. It was her famous batwing tea that got me through it." Nichol said, simply. As if he was speaking of something completely banal and ordinary, like the current state of the weather.

"Wait. A which type of tea, now?" Luke asked. He swallowed dryly.

"It's not quite as bad as it sounds. The bloody stuff works, too." Nichol shrugged with a shake of his head.

The savoury meal had finished at Gunilda's home, and Drake was thanking her with a kiss, which unexpectedly turned hot and breathless. When they broke the kiss, Gunilda spoke.

"I guess I no longer need to wonder why you never mentioned our kiss last night. I'm glad you hadn't forgotten it." she smirked salaciously.

"No. I didn't forget, Milady. And… I'd like to pursue it, but… "

"But… what, Drake?" she asked as she pulled away from him.

"We must be careful, Lady Gunilda." Drake cautioned her.

"Of course. Understood. You already mentioned that last night."

"Yes, but there's more. I… think I'm being watched." Drake sighed.

"What? What on earth has gotten into the old bore? I've a mind to have a word with him!" Gunilda huffed.

Nottingham was seated in the den of his private chambers, sipping of his brandy, and contemplating what the witch had just told him, as well as the added information his wife had shared with him earlier. More and more he was feeling sympathy toward Robert. The man was carrying on with his daily tasks, having no idea in the slightest at the lengths Isabelle was prepared to go to to stop their child from coming. A child he knew that Robert dearly wanted. He shook his head slowly the more he thought of it.

Curses! Someone needed to keep an eye on Lady Wordsworth. Perhaps he should give in to this ludicrous request of Isabelle's, for the reason Rhiannon stated. To keep a watchful eye on Isabelle before she does something impulsive. He couldn't think of anyone else who was afforded the time, and who also possessed the expertise to teach Isabelle how to ride.

Just then, Rhiannon came through the door, carrying her cape. She looked a little pale, and seemed distracted.

"My lady?" he said as he set the goblet down. He arose from his chair and walked toward her. "I just assumed you were taking a bath. Where did you just come from?" he asked, curiously.

Rhiannon walked over to a chair and absently set her cape down over it. Then she stood a moment and slowly shook her head.

"Rhiannon?" he asked again.

"Right. I went to the balcony to get a breath of fresh air. Now… I wish I hadn't." she muttered.

"What is it, my lady? Did someone try to hurt you?" he demanded.

She slowly turned around to face him.

"No. It was nothing like that." Rhiannon said. She put her hand to her forehead and looked to the floor, shaking her head.

"You seem to be quite out of sorts. You can talk to me." the Sheriff said, softly.

"I… hope you don't mind. I asked one of the guards to stand at the balcony door to… keep an eye on things there." Rhiannon muttered.

"Why? What's going on out there? I shall go and see what this is about." he said, then turned and was about to head to the door.

"No, George. I don't think that would be wise. It will just… I don't know? Escalate things, perhaps… " Rhiannon said, cryptically, letting her words trail off. It mystified him even more.

"Are you going to share with me what has you flustered, and prompted you to ask a guard to man the balcony door? Why does the balcony need to be watched by one of my men?" he pressed.

"It's… Isabelle." she said as she looked up into his eyes.

"What's happening?"

"I just saw her. She was out there leaning over the parapet staring at the ground below."

"Maybe she needed some air, too?"

"It's more than that, George. She was… like a completely different person." Rhiannon sighed. "It was almost like when I was talking to you last week. You were a different person to me, and now, she's acting the same. The only difference is she knows me, but everything else about her manner was… a bit chilling. It was as if someone else entirely had inhabited her body?" Rhiannon attempted to explain.

"In what way?" he asked.

"She was… angry. Abrupt. Her eyes were glazed over. I tried talking to her, but she gave me curt, short responses. Most of them were one word — "no". It was like she was in her own little world, and was quite annoyed that I intruded in it. And, some answers were confusing, because they didn't make sense." Rhiannon said. Then she walked to the sofa and seated herself.

"Can you expound on that last point?"

"I wasn't getting anywhere with her. So, I asked what she found so captivating to look at down in the courtyard. Again, she started with one word answers. The first answer I didn't hear too well, but it sounded like she said… "gravity". Then, she quickly changed that to say "scenery". She talked about how nice it looked down there with the torches ablaze, but added something about autumn decay, and then said, "like me." Have you ever heard of anything so… strange?"

"No, my lady. Can't say as I have. Did that help her when you tried to get her to engage in what was fascinating her in the courtyard?"

"No. Not really. After that, she asked me to leave her… if you can call it asking. Finally, I relented. That's when I flagged down a guard to watch her. I don't know why, but, she gave me a very uneasy feeling." Rhiannon said, softly.

"Yes, I can understand why, from what you've said so far."

"That's basically it. She wasn't exactly talkative, nor even polite. That's not Isabelle."

He wished he could share with her what he knew. But, Lady Isabelle was adamant that he not tell anyone, including Rhiannon, of her current condition. And now, he knew another secret that no one, not even Robert knew. Now, he was grateful the witch had told him, so that together, they could put a stop to Isabelle's request of Mortianna.

He seated himself beside her and took her hand in his.

"You know, a part of me doesn't really want to see her on the morrow; yet, the other part wants to watch her like a hawk." Rhiannon said, shaking her head. She looked into his eyes. "Somehow, I must find the words to tell her that her riding lessons must be put on hold. I mean, I'm assuming you'd be more agreeable to it once I am healed. Am I wrong, George?" Rhiannon asked.

"I've been thinking about that. In light of what you told me earlier about her peculiar behaviour in the day, and now, considering this latest report, It's… given me pause. Nothing about this is sitting right." Nottingham sighed.

"Have you reconsidered you're earlier decision on the riding lessons, George?" Rhiannon asked.

"I hate to say it, but… yes. I think you're right. She needs to be watched. No one else has the time plus the expertise to show her. I fear if I don't concede to this foolish whim of hers, she's liable to try to learn on her own somehow, and with her demeanour being… off, who knows what that would lead to?"

"Thank you, George. Maybe that will put a smile on her face?" Rhiannon smiled.

"I don't want you handling this alone, my lady. I know she can't be much help to you, but I'd like Meridwyn to accompany you while you're holding these tutorial sessions with Isabelle. She can at least summon help should you need it." the Sheriff said.

"Normally, I'd argue that point, but I'm agreeable to that condition, my love. I hate to say it, but… I don't really wish to be alone with Isabelle for the moment. She's… acting a bit unstable. And, this is only during the course of one cursed day, for crying out loud!" Rhiannon sighed.

"Make sure you're armed, too — in case the escaped prisoner finds a way to get past the portcullis." he added.

"I will."

"At the first sign of any trouble, you will summon for help immediately. Alright?"

"Of course, George. I will. I'll talk to Meridwyn about it on the morrow, as well." she nodded.

"Good. Now, I was going to move on to another topic, but… " Nottingham began.

"But… what, George?"

"Perhaps we should alert your brother to… what's going on out on the balcony."

"I don't know. She made a couple of curt remarks about him, too." Rhiannon frowned.

"It doesn't sound like she's in her right mind. I wouldn't worry too much about what she said. I'm more concerned with… something she might do." the Sheriff said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Like what, George?" Rhiannon asked, nervously.

"It could be anything. In a state like she's in, from your reports, who knows? People who… aren't quite right have a proclivity to making mistakes. Whether it's benign, or disastrous remains to be seen." he said, matter of factly.

"I was already nervous about some of the things I've seen with her today; but, now, you're scaring me, husband." Rhiannon sighed.

"The point is, Robert should know, shouldn't he? Wouldn't he want to know that his dearly beloved was currently alone, in the dark, freezing on the balcony — and speaking absolute nonsense?"

"What if it would worsen the state of her, though?" she argued.

"Rhiannon, that's a mute point right now. Come, my angel. We'll tell him together. He would be rightfully angry if he was not informed." he said. He stood from his chair and extended his hand out to her.

"My love? I don't know… how I'll be able to tell him this?"

"We will do it together, Rhiannon. He needs to know." the Sheriff said, firmly.

Rhiannon exhaled sharply, then took his hand and stood. She was cursing herself for choosing to go to the balcony for some air, instead of heading to the stables to check on Sugarstar.

Back at Gunilda's home, Drake was attempting to lower the temperature of her rising fury and frustration.

"I wouldn't recommend talking to him about this, Milady. All that will do is stoke the fire." Drake cautioned.

"I don't understand why he would care what his men do when they are off duty? He gets to have all his needs satisfied, but damn anyone else who works for him — is that it?" Gunilda huffed.

"I don't know what he thinks. All I know about is the rule against his staff mixing with each other romantically, and that… I'm certain I am being watched. For that very reason." Drake sighed.

"What makes you think you're being watched?"

"He had some very pointed questions for me today before he went into town with his top men. He wanted to know what exactly I was doing here with you last night. It was implied that he knew when I returned." Drake said.

"Well, surely he didn't send someone to follow you here to peak in through the cursed windows, did he? I mean… who would know, Drake?"

"I suppose… just us. But, I would be late returning."

"That would depend how much time you want to take with it." she smirked.

"Curses! I want to continue. I'm ready to take you right now, if the truth be told." Drake admitted.

"I'm ready, too." she said, softly.

"Would you… be offended if… I turned you down once more? We're going to do this, my lady. Don't misinterpret anything I'm telling you."

"Promise?" she smirked.

"I do. Of course, I do." he whispered as he held her to him.

"I'm not offended, Drake. And, as you know, you're welcome here anytime." Gunilda smiled as she looked up into his brown eyes.

"I'm grateful, Lady Gunilda. I just think I need to put this on hold until… the heat is off me. I'm sure that someone was paying attention to my movements last night, and reported to him how long I was gone. He truly acted like he knew." Drake said, shaking his head.

He wondered why no one seemed to care when he recently courted Miribelle. Although, it was a little different with her. They courted, but weren't intimate. There wasn't the same passion stirring in him like there was now. It was there briefly in the beginning, but when she soon started talking about marriage and children with him after only a fortnight, he started to lose interest. He sighed. He supposed the more obvious reason no one cared was because — Miribelle was not employed by the Sheriff. Curses!

"I know how important your role is to you, and that you have aspirations to move up in the ranks. I will not ask you to compromise your position, Drake. As I told you last night, anytime you're ready, I'll be ready, as well." a beat. "I'm on fire for you, Drake." Gunilda sighed.

"Good. Because there's no rule that says I can't kiss you again." Drake said, softly.

He leaned down and kissed her softly at first, then hungrily as he tasted her tongue with his. He wanted to give her a teaser of what he had in mind for later. He would bed her soon. He wasn't sure he could wait too long to plunge into her.

Robert was walking through the corridor heading toward the staircase. He had returned from the armoury and was bewildered to find Isabelle wasn't in their chambers. He heard footsteps approaching rapidly behind him and stopped a moment to see who was coming. He turned around and was surprised to see his sister with her husband.

"What are you two doing out here?" Robert asked.

"Looking for you. We were headed to your rooms when we saw you just ahead." Rhiannon said.

"Whatever it is you need it will have to wait. I'm looking for Isabelle. Perhaps she's somewhere on the main floor? I was just heading to the stairs."

"She's not there, Brother." Rhiannon sighed.

"What?"

"You'll probably find her on the balcony." Nottingham added.

Robert looked upon them both, curiously.

"What on earth is she doing there?" he asked, incredulously.

"I don't know, but that's where I just saw her." a beat. "She's… not right, Brother. Approach her cautiously." Rhiannon warned.

"WHAT?" he demanded.

"Come, Robert." Nottingham said. "Let's go and bring her back safely."

"What is going on? And, what did you mean by that, Rhiannon?"

"I'll share the important points on the way there. We must go. She needs to get the hell off that balcony." Rhiannon urged him to follow them.

"Language, Sis!" Robert admonished.

"For God's sake, Robert! Who cares at a time like this?" she sighed. "Whatever! There's no time for your scorn. Let's not tarry!"

A short time later, the three of them arrived to the balcony doors. The young sentry stationed there greeted them, then addressed Lady Rhiannon.

"She's leaned over the parapet a few times, Milady. Otherwise, she just stands and stares. I thought she'd be wanting to leave by now. The wind is quite chill tonight." the sentry shrugged.

"Thank you." Rhiannon nodded.

Robert narrowed his blue green eyes in suspicion. Was Isabelle acting that peculiar that she needed a guard to mind her since she asked his sister to leave her? What in the world was going on?

"We'll take it from here. You're free to go and get back to whatever it is you were assigned to before guarding these doors." the Sheriff instructed.

"As you wish, Milord." he nodded, then took leave of them.

"Tread carefully with her, Robert." Rhiannon whispered.

Robert nodded.

"We'll stay back here in case you need us for any reason." the Sheriff added.

Robert moved through the doors and stepped onto the balcony. Isabelle was holding the ledge, staring into the distance.

"Belle?" Robert called to her, softly.

Isabelle stiffened for a brief moment, then showily turned around to face him.

"Robert? What are you doing?"

"Bringing my wife back." he said, simply.

"I only needed a moment alone. To get some air. Why is everybody fussing?"

"Because you are loved, dearest. I think you've had enough of the night air, for it's very chill." Robert said, gently.

"I… didn't mean to worry you, Robert." Isabelle said, softly. She looked downcast.

"I know, my love. Come. Let me escort you to our rooms now. I need to get you warm, Belle." he said as he led her toward the doorway.

She nodded and took his arm, without any resistance. Robert was most grateful. Rhiannon made it sound like she'd taken complete leave of her senses!

The Sheriff grasped Rhiannon's hand and led her to a room near where they stood, so they wouldn't be seen by Isabelle. The room was dark, so they stood at the doorway to watch for the couple walking by.

Robert saw them as he escorted his wife, and gave them a nod to convey the situation was handled.

They emerged a few moments later and were pleased to see that Isabelle was being compliant with Robert. They were about thirty feet away, but they could still see well enough to know that it appeared Isabelle wasn't giving any trouble to Robert.

"You were right, George. I do feel a bit better now. Hopefully, he paid attention to what I just said to him; and, I certainly feel better that she's out of the cold and he'll, no doubt, get a fire going to warm her." Rhiannon smiled.

"Indeed, my lady. You were right. She did seem rather distracted until your brother intervened."

"Indeed. You two didn't even see the half of it." she sighed.

"Come. There's a chill here from when the the balcony doors were open. It's time I get you settled and warm now." Nottingham smiled as he offered her his arm.

"Of course." she smiled. She took his arm and they began to walk back.

"Try and put this out of your mind now. At least for tonight. Robert has it handled now, and I want you to feel more at ease so that you can get a good night's rest, my angel." the Sheriff advised her.

"That sounds perfect, my love. Lead the way." Rhiannon smiled.

On Thursday morning the Sheriff was on his way to the Council Quarters. He saw Robert on the main floor and motioned for him to come forward before he headed inside.

"How is she, Robert?"

"She was very quiet last night, but she seems to be behaving normally this morning. Perhaps sleep did her some good?" Robert said.

"I'm glad to hear that, for more reasons than that one." Nottingham hinted.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Because I'm going to be headed into town shortly with Guy, Nichol, and two of the top men. You shall be in charge, since the Captain is leading the search mission. I was going to designate both of you to take care of it, but, alas, it slipped my mind. It won't be for long."

"I see. Very well." Robert nodded.

"You sure that your wife will be alright while you cover for me?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so. She appears to be more like herself this morning. She seems to be feeling better than she was at this time yesterday, as well."

"Good news, indeed, Robert."

"Yes. I was relieved to see it. Is there anything in particular that needs attention while you're away?" Robert asked.

"Nothing in particular."

"Good. I'm sure it will be fine. What business do you have in town?" Robert asked.

"We're going to drop in to the butcher shop and deal with that matter." Nottingham said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Oh. Right. I do hope you held off on breaking your fast? From the comments made at the Town Council meeting, it doesn't sound like it will be all that… pleasant." Robert frowned.

"I did. I advised the men who will be joining me to do the same. It's Gis who concerns me most. I'm hopeful he can get through this without heaving in there." he sighed.

"Yes. I get the impression that he has a rather… sensitive stomach."

"Indeed."

"Good luck with that. Don't concern yourself with things here. I'll handle it until you return." Robert assured him.

"Good. I'll look for you when we have returned." the Sheriff nodded.

Robert nodded then took his leave.

Gisborne was opening the door of his chambers on his way to meet his cousin and the men in the Council Quarters. He was surprised to see who was standing there about to knock.

"Good morrow, Milady. She's sitting on the sofa in the den, just starting her knitting. I'll leave you to it, then." Guy nodded, then took a step to walk through the door.

"I'm glad I caught you, Sir Guy. I need a few moments of your time before you go. If he has a problem with it, direct him to me." Rhiannon said, hurriedly.

"Very well, Lady Rhiannon. Do come in." he said as he stepped back and held the door for her.

"What's that about your neck, Sir Guy. Isn't that Meridwyn's — "

"Yes. Where we're going today, I'm sure I will need it. I won't expound on that right now, because it's an unpleasant thought that might turn your stomach." Guy said with a grimace.

"I'll take your word for it." she said, still curious about why he would need it.

"Rhiannon! I wasn't expecting to see you this early, dearest. Come and sit. I'll get you a cup of tea." Meridwyn smiled as she stood from her seat. She looked to Guy, curiously. "Did you forget something, Guy?"

"He didn't, Meridwyn. I need to talk to you both." Rhiannon said.

"What is it?" Meridwyn asked.

"Did you get a chance to speak to Sir Guy about that matter? You know the one." Rhiannon asked.

"You must mean Lady Isabelle, and my wife's palfrey." Guy said.

"Technically it's ours, Guy." Meridwyn said.

"She." he corrected her.

"Great!! And… are you agreeable, Sir Guy?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes. But, what of my cousin? Does he approve of you teaching Lady Isabelle? I'm sure he has concerns."

"He is. We talked about it at length. He has one request. That's why I'm here to see you both."

"And, what is that?" Guy asked, curiously.

"Given the… mercurial state of… Isabelle's state of mind of late, he asked if Meridwyn could be present during these riding lessons. She could at least… summon help if needs be." Rhiannon explained.

Guy narrowed his steel blue eyes suspiciously upon her.

"What do you mean by… mercurial state of mind? Are you sure my wife would be adequate for the kind of supervision you're alluding to? How are you two meant to control her if she's unstable? That's what it's sounding like!" Guy huffed.

"Relax, husband. If he thought there were concerns like that he would've assigned a guard to assist, would he not?" Meridwyn said, attempting to assuage him.

"Truthfully, I don't think there's a threat to Meridwyn or myself. Isabelle is acting a bit… off — "

"Off? That's putting it mildly, Rhi." Meridwyn sighed, folding her arms.

"I saw her again last night. She was angry, and dolorous. She was out on the balcony. We got my brother and went back for her. She just looked like she was in another world, and not a very happy one. I think perhaps when we start these lessons, it will improve her mood." Rhiannon opined.

"I see." Guy said.

"It might work?" Meridwyn added.

"How soon do you wish to begin teaching her?" Guy asked.

"Well, that depends on you." Rhiannon replied.

"I'm sure it will be fine, Guy." Meridwyn added.

"Are you sure no harm will come to her? She is with child." Guy reminded her, nodding to Meridwyn.

"Yes. I won't let her do anything except observe." Rhiannon said.

"Very well. I will concede to it, since he requested it, and because of your assurance that she will be safe."

"For crying out loud, husband! As if either of them would willingly place me in danger." Meridwyn sighed.

"It's my duty to look out for you, and our wee girl, too, my dear." Guy reminded her.

"I know, but, I'm telling you: we will be fine."

"You better be, or there will be hell to pay." he said. Then he looked to Rhiannon. "Are you going to start these lessons today sometime?"

"That is the plan. It will depend on how my sister in law is faring. Her mood and state of health are a consideration." Rhiannon explained.

"Come to think of it… last week we were tending to George. She was covering your servant duties. I think it was Friday night. She looked awful. Had a green cast to her colour, and didn't look right at all. Is she… alright?" Guy asked.

"Robert reports that Thomas said it was some sort of bug that should pass in a day or two. It's got to be right. Her behaviour tells me that would be the correct assumption." Rhiannon said.

"I see. Very well. I'll leave that with you ladies, then. You make your judgement call, and if she's agreeable, then I give my blessing. We'll be leaving soon, so if you need Thomas, have the Scribe send for him." Guy instructed.

"Very well." Rhiannon said.

"I must go now. I'll tell my cousin that Meridwyn will be with you, should you endeavour to start this… strange request of hers while we're in town."

"Thank you." Rhiannon nodded.

After he took leave of them, Meridwyn looked at her sister in law, questioningly.

"Alright. Do you mind telling me what was so peculiar about her last night? I can read between the lines, Rhi." Meridwyn asked as she folded her arms.

"It was very strange, Meridwyn. May I have that tea now? I'll tell you about it over a cup of tea." Rhiannon sighed.

Nichol was waiting in the Council Quarters when the Sheriff arrived.

"Where is everyone?" the Sheriff asked.

"I haven't seen any of them. I expect they will be here shortly." Nichol said.

The Sheriff tossed his surcoat over a chair, then walked to the large oak table to pour himself some water into a goblet. Nichol's eyes were drawn to the pommel of the Sheriff's sword, as it peaked above the scabbard along with the hilt.

"Is that… a new sword, mate?"

"It is. A gift from my wife." Nottingham smiled as he took a sip of water from his goblet.

"What a thoughtful gift."

"It certainly is. I'm sure I'll have an opportunity to wield it shortly. You can see it then." he smirked.

"Indeed." Nichol grinned, deviously.

Luke was the first to arrive. He entered into the meeting chamber and closed the door.

"Good. I'm glad it's you, Luke. What news about last night?" Nottingham asked, curiously.

"Ancel didn't go anywhere. As for Drake, he arrived to his rooms early. Beric said it was about three hours past sundown." Luke said.

"Interesting. Perhaps the chat I had with him yesterday about this actually got through to him?" he pondered as he stroked his beard.

"It would seem so, Milord."

"Good. Have Beric observe tonight, as well."

"Very well." Luke sighed.

"And… what about you?" Nottingham asked.

"What about me, Milord?"

"Did you meet with Floria last night?"

"No. I was going to ask her to accompany me on a walk, but… that was put on hold." Luke said.

"I see. Did something come — " the Sheriff started to inquire, but was cut off.

"Did you try the tea yet that I suggested, Luke?" Nichol asked.

"Yes. I had a cup last night after you left. Then, she brought me another this morning. You're right. It certainly helps to take the edge off." Luke smiled.

"What are you two talking about?" Nottingham asked.

"I gave him a tip last night, George. From one poison survivor to another." Nichol smiled.

"I see. What is this tea you're referring to?"

"Mortianna's batwing tea, of course. She's right. It's helpful for many things, mate." Nichol said.

"Indeed. I wish I had known this before last night." Luke added.

"I'm glad it's helping you, lad." the Sheriff said.

"Yes, Milord. It's quite useful." Luke smiled.

Within moments, Guy and Mordrid arrived.

"Are we ready?" Guy asked.

"It would seem so. Are you ready, Gis? Thought you'd be one of the first to arrive?" the Sheriff remarked, curiously.

"Yes. I'll tell you about that on the way."

"The hell is that thing around your neck? Is that… Meridwyn's?" the Sheriff chuckled.

"Yes. It's one of her wimples. I have it fashioned in such a way that I can pull it up to cover my nose and mouth. I'm… fully prepared, Cousin."

"I see." Nottingham grinned.

"Brilliant! I wished I'd thought of that." Nichol added.

"Very well. Is everyone clear on the plan?" he asked.

"Yes. Sir Guy will barge through the door. Then, you shall follow with me. Nichol will follow us, and Luke will guard the door." Mordrid said.

"Good. Let's go. We shall endeavour to make this visit as brief as possible for the sake of our… health." the Sheriff frowned.

"Here's hoping it's not as bad as the reports given by the Council members, Cousin." Guy said.

"Indeed. Doubtful, though." he sighed.

The Sheriff took one last sip of water, then set the goblet on the table. He grabbed his surcoat, then nodded to his men and they all headed out the door of the Council Quarters, and toward the main entrance.

Later, they were riding into town. Nichol and the top men rode in front, with the Sheriff and Gisborne behind them. The Sheriff had something on his mind he wanted to talk to his cousin about. He slowed his horse to a canter. Guy followed suit.

"What was it you were going to tell me, Gis? About what held you up this morning." the Sheriff asked him.

"Your wife needed to talk to me." Guy said.

"I see. About the situation with Isabelle?"

"Yes. She told me of your request to have Meridwyn with her when these lessons take place. I agreed to it."

"I appreciate that, Gis."

"Are you buying this story about her? That it has to do with some mysterious malaise?" Guy asked.

"That's what Thomas said, apparently." he lied.

"There was a night last week she wasn't right at all. On Friday night, she was covering servant duties for Lady Rhiannon. She looked terrible, Cousin. I swear there was a greenish cast to her skin." Guy said, shaking his head.

"Perhaps that's when it started." the Sheriff said.

"I don't know, but it was concerning enough I commented about it. She said she was fine, of course. Said it must have been something she ate." a beat. "Do you find it a bit peculiar that she wants to learn how to ride — all of a sudden?"

"It's certainly curious, but Rhiannon seems to think it will improve her mood."

"Yes. She mentioned that to Meridwyn and myself, as well. Hopefully, that is the case. It's a bit troubling that Robert doesn't know she plans to do this." Guy added.

"My lady said she insisted that Isabelle tell him the moment her lessons are completed. Rhiannon thinks it will take three or four sessions." the Sheriff explained.

"For a woman who has supposedly never ridden a horse before?" Guy countered.

"Yes. My lady may have underestimated how long this will take. We shall see." he said.

"Lady Rhiannon said you both took Robert to Isabelle last night. Your wife described her as being angry and dolorous when she encountered her. Did you witness anything like that?"

"We stood near the doors until Robert started to lead her back. I didn't witness that. From what Rhiannon told me, it appeared to me that Isabelle was more engaged with Robert. She listened to him, and was compliant. That wasn't at all how my lady described it when she saw her."

"And, you're sure she won't be a problem for your lady, or mine, George?" Guy asked, pointedly.

"Doubtful. I wouldn't have agreed to this nonsense, nor requested your wife be present, otherwise."

"That's a relief, Cousin. I told our ladies to get the Scribe to summon for Thomas should Isabelle feel unwell."

"Good. About the only thing I'm hoping for is that Lady Isabelle doesn't fall off your palfrey." Nottingham sighed.

"Indeed. Robert would be rightfully angry at the whole lot of us if that occurs. I would be, too. Wouldn't you if Lady Rhiannon was learning something potentially dangerous to her — without your knowledge of it?"

"Indeed. I would be. If this is going to be longer than expected, I might have a word with Robert about this. Let's pick up the pace, Gis. We've some catching up to do." Nottingham said.

They kicked their horses into a gallop in an effort to catch up with the rest of the men. They continued along their path for another fifteen minutes when they noticed their men had stopped ahead of them. They slowed their horses on approach, both wondering what could be holding them up. As they neared them, they noticed them talking to two women who had been walking along the path.

"What's going on?" Nottingham called out to them as he was pulling his midnight black horse to a stop.

"One of these maidens called out to us, Milord. Said it was important." Mordrid said.

"You've got that right. I certainly wouldn't have bothered about this!" One of the maidens muttered. She had the hood of her cape pulled up and kept her head low. Neither the Sheriff, nor Gisborne could make out her features.

The pretty maiden beside her sighed, then looked to the men.

"Continue then; but make it fast." Nottingham said to the brunette haired maiden. "My men and I have an appointment in town."

"Yes, Milord. I'm Kaeliss Brimley. You've met my cousin." she said, nodding to the maiden beside her. "And, I believe you've met my aunt, Ostara Brimley. I've some news to report that will interest you."

"Hmm. The second name you dropped sounds familiar." he said. He looked to the maiden who didn't wish to be noticed. "You there. Show yourself to me."

The young maiden looked up at him, and narrowed her blue eyes in a scowl.

"Curses." Guy muttered.

"You! The ungrateful one, if I recall." Nottingham sighed.

Nichol looked upon the Sheriff and Guy, quizzically; since he couldn't help but notice the comely maiden with wavy chestnut coloured hair who was, apparently, related to the one who caused such objectionable reactions in each of them.

"Told you this was a waste of time, Kae." Brigid huffed.

"Oh, do hush! You've been such an insufferable bore of late." Kaeliss admonished.

"I'm quite certain you would be, too!"

"Right. Moving on! What is so important that you flagged my men down, Missy?" Nottingham demanded of the more agreeable maiden.

"That fugitive bloke. I… I think we just saw him." Kaeliss said.

"What did he look like?"

"Short. Round. Balding ginger hair. The fugitive fellow you're looking for, right?" Kaeliss asked, squinting her dove grey eyes.

"Sure sounds like him!" Luke huffed.

"Where is he?" the Sheriff demanded.

"He hopped on the back of a wagon, unbeknownst to the driver. It wasn't too long ago. They were headed along the outskirts of town. North. Straight to the Great North Way, from the looks of it."

"Isn't Lady Gunilda out that way, Milord?" Luke asked, quietly.

"Indeed." he said.

"Shall I follow, Milord?" Mordrid asked.

"Gis? Where are the men headed today? Do you know?" Nottingham whispered.

"Sherwood. Even though the Duke reports that Ancel thinks it's a waste of time to keep searching there." Guy said softly, so the ladies couldn't hear him.

"Good. They'll see the rotten little potato!" Nottingham sneered.

"He probably didn't even do anything wrong." Brigid sighed. Then, she looked to her cousin. "This is ridiculous, Kae. Let's go."

"He's as much a threat to the public as the one we rescued you from, Missy. You recall? The one who wouldn't have gotten near you had your dearly beloved not aided his escape from my dungeon!" the Sheriff said, sharply. He sighed, and then continued. "You should be thanking your cousin for doing you a service — for reporting this to us immediately. Your mother was quite poised, if I recall. You'd be wise to take a page from her book. This continued insolence of yours is not a good look, Missy."

"Call it what you want. I call it grief." Brigid muttered.

"Still ungrateful." Guy sighed.

"Indeed, Gis." Nottingham sneered, shaking his head.

"Milord?" Mordrid asked.

"Go. Even if you don't see him, you can alert the men about this wagon he's travelling on and they can take it from there. Consider yourself lucky you won't be subjected to the health hazard we're about to step into." the Sheriff sighed.

"It shall be done, Milord." Mordrid nodded. He maneuvered his horse away from them, then kicked it into motion. "Yah!" he goaded the horse. He sped off, fast as lightning.

"Thank you, Miss Brimley. If we capture him, I shall have a suitable reward to offer you." the Sheriff said, addressing the comely maiden.

"It's no trouble, Milord. There's no need of that." she smiled.

"I may vomit from witnessing anymore of your bootlicking!" Brigid admonished her cousin.

"I knew it was a bad idea trying to encourage you to leave that darkened room you insist on holing up in — like a cursed tomb! See what happens when you refuse to be social? You forget how to conduct yourself completely." Kaeliss sighed.

"You fool! He killed my Hector!" Brigid shrieked.

"You cursed, ungrateful wretch!" Nottingham exclaimed.

"It's really neither here, nor there, Milord. What does it matter what she thinks?" Nichol pointed out, nodding to the insolent blonde maiden. "Thankfully, her cousin was using her head." he said.

Kaeliss looked up at him from where she stood, and smiled. The green eyed, dark haired stranger was certainly a handsome fellow.

Nichol looked down at her from his mount, and caught his breath a moment at her astonishing beauty.

"Thank you, Miss. We appreciate your assistance in this matter. Look for me when you come to collect your reward, for I'm sure the lead you just gave us will be fruitful. Nichol is my name." he nodded.

The rest of the men gathered looked at him in astonishment.

"Very well. Thank you, Nichol." Kaeliss smiled, fluttering her dark lashes at him.

The ladies continued on their way, walking south.

"What did we just witness? Did you just… make an advance toward that maiden?" Luke asked.

"A man must strike when the iron is hot." Nichol winked.

"Good luck with that, Nic. You better hope she's nothing like her cousin." Nottingham said, rolling his eyes. "Onwards, men. We've a fetid butcher shop to look in on."

"I say she's not. We shall see. I haven't seen the last of her. I'm sure of it." Nichol grinned.

Lady Gunilda was leading her horse by the reins, walking up the path toward the stables. She was a bit surprised to see Safforus riding toward her.

"Ah! Giving the old girl some exercise, Safforus?" Gunilda asked.

"You… could say that." Safforus huffed as he slowed the horse to a halt.

"I just had the most pointless visit into town. Couldn't find one decent gown anywhere. Then, I stupidly stopped in to the butcher shop. What a disaster of a place that was." Gunilda remarked with a grimace. "Thank Goddess I was taught to hunt. I'll hunt and dress my own game from now on! Word of caution, Safforus: do not ever step into that butcher shop. You're likely to retch if you do."

"Noted. I must go, my lady. We've a… problem."

"What's wrong?"

"I was exercising this horse… in the pasture out back. Then I saw someone riding away on your uncle's old horse." Safforus frowned.

"What?"

"Yes. I was about sixty yards away, so didn't get the best look at him; but, he kind of resembles the wanted man that Officer Drake of the Sheriff's Black Knights told me about." Safforus said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Curses! Did you catch which direction he was headed?"

"North." Safforus said.

"Very well. Go after him, Saff. Are you armed?" Gunilda asked.

"God damn right, I am!" Safforus grinned, pulling back his surcoat to reveal his sword peaking from his scabbard.

"I'll head back through town on my way to the castle. I will alert the Sheriff." she said, as she remounted her horse. "Have you something to restrain him with if you catch him?"

"I have a length of rope I grabbed from the stables." he grinned. Then he kicked the horse into motion and went on his way.

Rhiannon and Meridwyn were stopped outside the Wordsworths' chambers. They both sighed as they regarded one another with knowing looks.

"Let us hope she's acting more like herself than what you witnessed last night, Rhi. You're obviously optimistic — since you're wearing your cape." Meridwyn whispered.

"Indeed. I'm hoping she'll be fit for it. Glad you thought to bring yours."

"If she's not able for it, first thing I'm doing is going back to my rooms to change out of this drab old gown. Looks like it's fit for a great grandmother, for pity's sake!" Meridwyn whispered, rolling her eyes.

"Told you — there was no sense wearing a fancy gown for an outing with horses." Rhiannon sighed.

"I hope she is able for this so we can begin to get this nonsense over with. Go ahead, Rhi. Let's see what she says." Meridwyn goaded her, nodding to the door.

"Well, I suppose there's no time like the present." Rhiannon said as she knocked on the door.

After a few moments, the door opened. Isabelle stood before them holding a cup in her hand.

"Oh. I didn't think I'd see you ladies today." Isabelle shrugged. She took a sip from her cup, then shifted in discomfiture.

"Why is that?" Meridwyn asked, curiously.

"I… uh… I wasn't exactly myself when I saw Rhiannon last night." Isabelle frowned, then looked downcast.

"No kidding." Rhiannon sighed. "How are you feeling now?"

"Quite well, thanks to this b — tea, and a good night's rest, of course." Isabelle nodded, grateful she caught herself before she nearly divulged which variety of tea she was drinking.

"Marvellous! May we come in?" Meridwyn asked.

"Right. Yes." Isabelle said as she held the door for them.

"I suppose you're here to check on me again." Isabelle remarked after she closed the door.

"Of course. And, to see if you're fit for beginning your lessons today." Rhiannon explained.

"Really?"

"No. I only dressed like I'm headed to the cursed barn just to see how it would look." Meridwyn sighed.

"The stables, Meridwyn." Rhiannon corrected her.

"The hell difference does it make? Barn. Stables. Outdoor shelter for animals, with hay everywhere, and God knows what all else." Meridwyn argued.

"Honestly. You're impossible sometimes." Rhiannon said, shaking her head.

"So, I take it Sir Guy is agreeable to lending the use of your palfrey for this?" Isabelle asked.

"Indeed." Meridwyn nodded.

"Yes, and George is agreeable to having me teach you. Even though he had reservations at first." Rhiannon added.

"Oh. Good." Isabelle nodded.

"So… are you fit for this today, Isabelle?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes. I believe so. I'd like to finish my tea, though. It's helping… to calm me." Isabelle said as she took another sip.

"Good. Don't get too calm, though. I don't know which variety you're drinking, but it's probably better to keep your wits about you for something like… this." Meridwyn sighed.

"Indeed. It's… chamomile." Isabelle lied.

The men secured their horses near the butcher shop in the centre of town. They reviewed their new plan since Mordrid was unexpectedly reassigned. Then, they walked the path together toward the door.

Nottingham nodded to his Lieutenant to proceed with the plan. Guy nodded to him in return, then loudly pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Immediately, his nose was assaulted with a fetid odour that nearly choked him. He reached down below his chin and quickly pulled his wife's wimple up over his nose.

"Sir Gisborne?" Cyrus Massacriar, the butcher, said. He was a short, stout man, with slightly balding dark hair. He looked upon the Lieutenant, nervously.

Guy looked over his shoulder at his cousin.

"You're going to wish you'd brought a face covering, too. Trust me." Guy sneered. He moved forward toward the counter to allow the rest of the men to follow.

There were a couple of customers inside the shop. Guy addressed them both.

"Unless you wish to kill your families with whatever it is he's selling in here, leave. I suggest you do your own hunting and dressing of your game for the foreseeable future." Guy said to them, quietly.

The two men nodded and took their leave.

Cyrus wondered what he had said to the men to prompt them to leave his shop.

Right behind Gisborne was the Sheriff, then Luke. Nichol stayed by the door, keeping the hood of his woollen cloak up, and his head low. He held the top of the hood to cover his eyes with his right hand as he looked to the floor, his left hand supporting him with his walking stick.

The butcher looked upon them, curiously. He looked downcast, wishing he had thought to switch out the bloodied apron he wore over his clothes.

"Satan's teeth! What's that I smell? Five parts rot, and five parts desperation, perhaps?" Nottingham spat.

"Milord?"

"Show me what you're peddling in this… shop of horrors, Massacriar!"

"You know what I sell." Cyrus said.

"Really? Seems to have taken a dive since the last time I dropped by. Show me your wares." the Sheriff demanded.

Luke moved from behind to stand on the left side of the Sheriff, as Guy stood to his right. The three of them locked eyes with the butcher, their hands on the pommels of their swords.

"Right. Well, what is it you're looking for, specifically? I have beef, lamb, venison, pork, goose, pheasant, and — "

"You need to get some fresh air. The odours in here have done something to your brain." the Sheriff sighed. "Fool! I'm not here to buy from you! Do you think I would have brought my men if I were? Show me what's behind your cursed counter, and then we're going to have a look in the back!"

"Must we go to the back? Can't we already tell this is a fraud shop?" Guy muttered as he held the wimple closer to his face, as it wasn't working nearly as well as he had hoped.

"That wouldn't be much of an inspection, now, would it?" Nottingham said, firmly.

"Yes, Milord." Guy sighed.

"Very well. Here's the meats." Cyrus said as he reached down behind the counter and began placing various sized wrapped packages upon it.

"Open them. Let's start with the beef." the Sheriff directed him.

Slowly, the butcher began to unwrap the first package. The meat had a greyish cast to it, with dark green mold at one end.

"You must be jesting!" the Sheriff snapped.

"It's beef, Milord." Cyrus said.

"It's rotten, you absolute imbecile!" he exclaimed. He looked to his left at Luke. "Go back there and toss that, Luke. I'd send Gisborne, but then we'd have the added displeasure of smelling vomit along with dead meat. Stay there. There's more that shall need to be disposed of."

Luke nodded, then walked behind the counter. He used a knife that was laying on the counter to stab the rotten meat and tossed it in a large bucket that the butcher was using for waste.

The next package didn't appear to be rotten, but it didn't at all resemble what it was purported to be.

"That's… supposed to be beef?" Guy scoffed.

"Of course, it is. It's a good price, too." Cyrus nodded.

"Bollocks, it is! That's about as beefy as your right thumb will be once we lop it off your stubby, chubby little hand, then dress it and roast it over an open flame — if you don't tell me what that really is!" the Sheriff hissed, as he moved in closer.

"Milord?" Cyrus replied, nervously.

"Horse meat, or donkey meat, Massacriar? Which is it?" he demanded.

"Beef." he said, softly.

The Sheriff looked over his shoulder to address his mate.

"You, at the door! Come. Join us." he grinned, wickedly.

Nichol stepped forward, keeping his head low until he stood to the right of Gisborne. The butcher shook his head, curiously. Then, Nichol raised his head and pulled his hood back, staring into Massacriar's widened brown eyes, with a sardonic grin.

"Remember me?" Nichol scoffed.

"It cannot be!" Cyrus gasped.

"Just like old times, isn't it?" Guy sneered.

"What in the devil kind of sorcery is this?" the butcher exclaimed.

"It's nothing to do with sorcery. He's alive. The gang's all here, Massacriar. You're clearly outnumbered, so, answer the damned question! Tell us what that really is!" Nottingham demanded, pointing to the curious meat that was laying on wrapping paper on the counter.

"I… did, Milord." Cyrus said, his voice quivering.

"You lie! Tell him!" Luke said sharply, as he grabbed the butcher.

"Alright. That is… donkey meat." the butcher admitted, nodding to the open package on the counter. "But, it sells well. People seem to like it." he shrugged.

"Toss it, Luke." the Sheriff said.

Luke stabbed at the meat using the butcher's knife again so as not to touch it with his free hand, and flung it into the waste bucket.

"What? What are you doing?" Cyrus demanded, looking to each of them.

"Shutting you the fuck down, Massacriar! What has prompted you to try to pass off meat that nobody ingests as being legit, and, selling rotting meat? Are you trying to make the entire Village sick?" Nottingham demanded.

"Taxes." the butcher replied, weakly.

"Tell me another story! All the other merchants are managing fine. This business isn't fit for a wayward cat! You are closed until further notice."

"What?" Cyrus asked, incredulously.

"Closed, Massacriar!" he bellowed. Then he looked to his best Knight. "Fuck it. Toss it all, Luke. I've seen enough out here."

Luke nodded and started tossing each package into the waste bucket. Then, he found more under the counter and disposed of them, as well.

"Good. Is that everything?" the Sheriff asked the butcher.

"Everything behind the counter." Cyrus sighed.

The Sheriff looked to Guy and Nichol. "Let's head to the back, shall we?" then he addressed Luke. "Bring him to the back, Luke. Let's see what sort of decomposing flesh we'll find back there." he sneered.

"This is absurd!" Cyrus objected, as Luke pulled him away from the counter.

"You're God damn right, it is. This entire shop is an absurdity! That's why we're shutting you down, as of now!" Nottingham hissed. "Get moving!"

"I don't… understand?" Cyrus protested as Luke guided him to the door that led to the back room.

"What don't you understand?" Nichol retorted. "That some of your customers lodged complaints? Think again!"

The Sheriff went to the door and pushed it open. Luke followed with the butcher, as the other two were directly behind.

The Sheriff had an expression of revulsion as he glanced around the back room. There was raw meat on tables, flies buzzing about, and an undeniable odour of rot permeating the air.

"Satan's teeth! What the absolute fuck is this? You were preparing to sell this lot of… decomposition? Have you suffered a brain injury of late? Get over here!" the Sheriff demanded.

Luke pulled Cyrus forward so that he stood beside the Sheriff.

"Take a good look! What do you see wrong here?"

"All it need's is a wash, then I can prepare it in packages." Cyrus said, as he looked to the floor.

"Wrong answer!" he bellowed.

The Sheriff moved forward toward the table. As he waved flies out of the way, he noticed a meat cleaver on the table. He picked it up, glad he was wearing his gauntlets, and brought the blade down hard on one end of the slab of rotting meat and sliced a small cube from it. Then he picked it up, turned and held it directly in front of the butcher's face.

"Eat it." he said.

"What?" Cyrus asked, incredulously.

"You heard me! You're telling me you're trying to sell meat that you wouldn't even ingest? Open your mouth!" he shouted as he pressed it against the butcher's lips.

The small cube of meat went into his mouth. Cyrus tasted it a moment, then spat it out, coughing.

"You're done. This fraud shop of yours is now closed. You're lucky this is the current time, Massacriar. If this happened a few years ago, I'd be ordering Gisborne to burn this entire place right this very instant!" he bellowed. Then he paused a moment and looked to his men. "I've seen enough. Let's go back. Luke, bring him out to the shop."

"Of course, Milord." Luke nodded.

"Nic, dispose of all of that revolting rotting flesh on those tables. When they're in the waste buckets, take them outside to the back, including the one at the counter, and burn it all. I won't even risk Nottingham's small animals getting near this!"

"Consider it done, Milord." Nichol said as he moved closer to the tables, controlling the urge to gag.

As Nichol set to work in the back room, Luke led the butcher back into the shop. The Sheriff and Guy stood, waiting for them.

"This place is going to be boarded up, preventing anyone from entering inside. After we are finished here, you will start by cleaning every surface in this entire shop and the back room. It will be clean enough that a medicus could perform a surgical procedure in here! Got it?" the Sheriff seethed.

"Yes, Milord." Cyrus muttered.

"You better get to work. There shall be more of my men arriving here later to board this place up. If I find out you found some rotten meat, or any meat to try to sell that Nichol didn't get to, you'll be placed in my dungeon. Are we clear?" he said, sharply. He pulled his surcoat back to show his sword.

"Aye." Cyrus said.

"You have much to demonstrate to me before you will be permitted to reopen. You might be permitted to reopen if you follow each and every rule imposed upon you. This is called leniency, Massacriar! I'd like to wring your fat little neck, but, this shop once had a solid reputation with you at the helm. If you work with me, we might allow you to run it again in future. Right now, though — you're done." Nottingham said, sharply.

"Until… when?" Cyrus asked.

"Until we've seen solid proof you're committed to the health of your customers! I want this shop so clean it damn near sparkles, for one thing. Every surface. Counters, tables, floors, walls, the ceiling, and even your windows. Everything shall be spotless! And that is step one of my rules." Nottingham sneered.

"This is… my livelihood… Milord." Cyrus muttered.

"One in which you turned into a disaster. That sounds like a you problem, Massacriar. You can go home tonight — as I'm certain it will take you several hours to clean, and explain to your wife how you failed your entire family. This is your warning. This disgusting practice shall never be repeated as long as I'm Sheriff. Got it?"

"Aye, Milord."

"You are also barred from participation in the Town Council meetings until further notice." he said.

"Until when, Milord?"

"Until you've demonstrated a commitment to following the rules, thus proving you give a damn about the health and safety of your customers."

"Very well." Cyrus sighed.

"And, don't think you'll be forgotten about as you toil away, cleaning this mess of a place. As soon as Nichol has completed his tasks, we'll be leaving; but, make no mistake. More of my men will be here in a few hours to see that you're following my orders, and then they will board up the place, and notices shall be posted to warn everyone to stay away — for the good of their health." Nottingham said, firmly.

"Very well." the butcher muttered.

"Good. I suggest you get started." the Sheriff instructed him.

The butcher sighed as Luke let go of him, then began his task.

"You can wait outside, Gis. I can see you're about to heave. Go to the back and see if Nic needs assistance." the Sheriff directed him, quietly.

"Gladly, Cousin." Guy said. Then he quickly made his way to the front door, to avoid going into the back room.

"Come, Luke. Let's go stand by the door until Nichol finishes his task. We'll observe the butcher from there. You've been exposed to enough contaminants already." he sighed.

Luke nodded, and together they waited inside in front of the door, as they watched the butcher begin to clean. And then, they saw Gisborne coming in to take the waste bucket from near the counter, holding the wimple close to his face.

The ladies had taken the palfrey to a fenced in area well in back of the stables to begin Isabelle's riding lessons. Meridwyn stood against the fence, as Rhiannon was attempting to explain how Isabelle should mount the palfrey.

"I don't… get it. It's sounding like you don't want me to mount it in a side saddle position?" Isabelle said.

"Side saddle is useless, Sister; and a horrible position for your back. It's much more difficult to control your horse, as well." Rhiannon explained. Then she sighed. "First things first." she said as she doffed her cape and laid it over the fence near where she stood.

Meridwyn and Isabelle regarded her in astonishment. Isabelle let out a soft gasp.

"Rhiannon… what in the devil are you wearing? Are those the breeches from your husband you had Madam Oberon tailor to fit you?" Meridwyn asked while pointing to them.

"Pardon? Why would you do that?" Isabelle asked.

"No. I still have those. These are a different pair." Rhiannon said, ignoring Isabelle's question.

"Why are you… dressed like a man, Sister? Where did you obtain that leather? Is that… a surcoat?" Isabelle asked.

"Not quite. It's much easier to move dressed like this, believe it or not. The breeches are perfect for riding. I should have asked you to borrow a pair of Robert's breeches. Tomorrow, I'll lend you one of mine. You'll be glad of it. It helps tremendously with chafing. Oh, well. It's not like you'll be riding far today." Rhiannon shrugged.

"Chafing?" Isabelle asked, curiously.

"Your inner thighs, Isabelle. If you were riding for a length of time, you'd notice some chafing there."

"Not if I was taught side saddle." Isabelle countered.

"Forget side saddle, Isabelle. Only women who don't know what they're doing ride like that. You're just learning. You need to be able to control your horse. And, besides the strain on your back, it's not good for the horse's back, either." Rhiannon said, firmly.

"Right. Okay. What do I do?"

"The first thing you're going to do is let the horse get accustomed to you. You can't just mount her and expect her to cooperate when she doesn't know you from a hole in the ground. Come. Take her by the reins and walk with her. I'll walk with you." Rhiannon suggested.

"Uh… really?" Isabelle asked.

"Yes, Isabelle. Even I know that. Rhiannon is right." Meridwyn said.

Rhiannon nodded to Isabelle.

"Very well." Isabelle sighed. She grabbed the reins and began to tug at them.

"No! Don't pull her." Rhiannon sighed in exasperation. "Watch me. Like this." she said as she took the reins. She looked to the horse. "Come, sweetness." she said, then clicked her tongue against her palate a few beats.

The beautiful grey palfrey nickered as Rhiannon spoke to her.

Isabelle jumped back slightly.

"What is it doing?" she asked, nervously.

"She." Rhiannon sighed. "She's talking to me."

"What?" Isabelle asked, incredulously.

"They do that sometimes." Meridwyn added.

The horse began to move with her as Rhiannon gently guided her.

"Oh. I see. It's like… it has its own personality?" Isabelle said in awe.

"All animals do. And, this palfrey is a she, Isabelle. Not an it." she said. "Okay. You take the reins from me."

"Already?"

"Dear God. Day one and she won't even go near the horse." Meridwyn sighed.

"It's an awfully large animal, Meridwyn." Isabelle pointed out.

"Horses, like all animals, can sense fear. If she thinks you're frightened of her, she won't follow your commands. She's not going to eat you, Isabelle. I'll be walking with you. It's alright." Rhiannon said, attempting to allay her fears.

"Oh, alright." Isabelle said. She took the reins from Rhiannon and spoke softly to the horse. The horse responded by walking beside her.

"Very good. Keep going, Isabelle." she encouraged her as she walked beside her.

They walked with the horse covering a decent sized area over the course of several minutes, then led the horse back closer to where Meridwyn stood.

"Can I touch it?" Isabelle asked.

"Yes. I'd suggest you stroke her neck, where her mane is. She doesn't know you, so avoid any part of her head. Don't touch her belly, either. It's a sensitive area on the horse. So is every part of their head, unless they know their rider well." Rhiannon explained.

Isabelle nodded and began to stroke the horse's neck. The horse nickered a bit and nudged Isabelle with her head.

"Goodness! Is it — she trying to bite me?" Isabelle asked as she pulled her hand away.

"Not at all. I think she likes you. They do that to show either impatience, or trust. In this case, since you were stroking her neck, I think it was the latter." Rhiannon smiled.

"How quaint, indeed!" Isabelle smiled. She reached out again to stroke the horse's neck. "The mane is so silky."

"That's because Gervase has been taking good care of her. I hope the man who is taking his place right now is just as good as he is." Rhiannon said.

"I see. Alright, since she is getting familiar with me, now what? And, what is that step ladder thing doing here?" Isabelle asked, pointing to it which was next to the fence.

"It's a mounting block, Isabelle. Since you're a beginner, you shall need it for the first few times as you try to mount her." Rhiannon explained.

"Oh, dear. Aye. She is rather… tall. I'd forgotten I'm not a fan of heights." Isabelle frowned.

"Ha! Says the lady who jumped off a roof only eleven days ago, and from what I hear, was damn near hanging over the parapet of the balcony just last night!" Meridwyn scoffed.

"I didn't have a choice at that abandoned manor a sennight ago, Meridwyn. A deranged man and fire, or, having to jump? I took my chances with the jump. As for the balcony, I was in no danger of falling." Isabelle pointed out.

"Sure." Meridwyn shrugged.

"It's all about balance, Isabelle. You must seat yourself correctly in the saddle. Be careful not to frighten her with loud noises, or sudden movements. Seat yourself slowly into the saddle when you mount her, and maintain correct posture." Rhiannon explained.

"That sounds like… a lot to remember." Isabelle sighed.

"Of course, it does, Sister. You've never done this before. Do not worry. I shall demonstrate first and you will observe. Then, it shall be your turn." Rhiannon said.

"I should have brought snacks for this. This might be rather entertaining." Meridwyn chuckled.

"Honestly, Meridwyn! Don't you ever stop thinking about food?" Rhiannon sighed.

"Not since this child started growing within me." Meridwyn shrugged. "I'm sure the child shall be fit and hale for it. Don't worry. If it's a girl, I will have you teach her to ride when she's of a suitable age for it."

Rhiannon smiled. "Very well." she chuckled.

"Really? You'd teach a little girl to ride?" Isabelle asked.

"Of course. I want her to know a few things." Meridwyn said, simply.

Drake and Ancel were not far from the former outlaw camp close to the Great North Way. They'd just finished covering a large area and had stopped to take some water from their calfskin flasks.

"I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever find him. So far, all I've seen is a couple of carriages on the Great North Way." Drake said as he took a swig of water from his flask.

"I told the Captain this was a waste of time. One of these futile searches of Sherwood is going to prompt the Sheriff to change course. I'm sure of it." Ancel said.

"He's going to send us away somewhere, isn't he? Curses! I let a perfect opportunity pass me by." Drake muttered.

"We won't know until he comes up with a new plan." a beat. "You've been a bit irritable today. Anything amiss?"

"Just somewhat… frustrated." Drake spat.

"Anything in particular?" Ancel asked.

"Not really. I'm sure it will sort itself out." As soon as I return to her, it will definitely sort itself out.

Ancel nodded, then his ears pricked. He squinted his eyes and turned his head to get a better listen.

"What is it?" Drake asked.

"I can hear a horse heading this direction on the road. Can't you?"

Drake paused a moment then he agreed with his comrade as the sounds of horse's hooves clomping along the path grew louder. They urged their horses into motion to head to the main road.

Drake thought he recognized the rider, and then the man waved on approach.

"Safforus?" Drake called out.

Safforus guided the horse in close to them and brought it to a halt.

"What are you doing out here?" Drake asked.

"Chasing after a horse thief. Glad you're here, Officer Drake. I think he might be that unfortunate looking fugitive bloke you told me to be watchful for." Safforus said.

"Seriously? You saw him?" Drake asked.

"Yes. I was about sixty yards away, but close enough to tell he meets your description. He stole one of Lady Hayward's horse's. I was following the direction I saw him take, but he had a head start. I haven't seen him as yet." Safforus explained.

"Curses! One of us should alert the Captain. Go with him, Drake. I'll find Duke Farnsworth and report this. If you don't see him in an hour, head back this direction." Ancel advised.

Drake nodded, then he and Safforus sped off together in search of the escaped prisoner.

Close to an hour after the Sheriff laid down the rules for the butcher, Guy and Nichol finally returned, and reported the task of burning the butcher's wares was taken care of. The Sheriff gave further instruction to the butcher to continue cleaning, and warned once more that more of his men would be arriving soon.

The men left the shop, grateful to be out of there, and headed to their horses.

"Do you want me to stay here and wait for whomever you're sending? I could help them to board up this business and post notices, Milord." Luke asked when they arrived to their horses.

"Normally I'd say yes, since you're meeting with Fingle later. However, you weren't feeling right for a time yesterday, Luke. Isn't that right?" the Sheriff remarked with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Uh… yes, Milord." Luke nodded, then looked downcast.

"That would require a lot of waiting on your part. First you'd be waiting for the men to arrive, then you'd probably be waiting to see Samson, since it wouldn't make sense to return at the end of that. You'd have to head back into town the moment you returned to the castle."

"Yes. That is true." Luke nodded.

"What about us?" Nichol asked.

"No. We've all been subjected to enough here. We don't have far to go. We can have men back here in no time to take over with this nonsense." he said.

"Good. Because I'm over this dump." Guy sighed as he pulled the wimple down from his face.

"We have three men at the portcullis, since Beric is newly assigned to it. I'll send Beric and Castor here. Adam will remain at the portcullis. Luke, you stay with Adam until the lads return, then you can head back here to see Samson." he instructed.

"Of course, Milord." Luke nodded.

As they were getting near to the castle, the Sheriff recognized Lady Gunilda riding on the path, just ahead of them. He urged his horse to move faster, then slowed his horse when he approached hers.

"Gilda?" he called out to her.

Gunilda slowed her horse and maneuvered it around to face him.

"Oh, good. This saves me having to speak to the men at the portcullis." Gunilda said.

"Are you coming to see me… or, are you looking for Drake?" he asked, as his brow shot north, suspiciously.

"I was coming to speak to you." she said.

"What's going on?"

The men had just arrived right behind the Sheriff. They slowed their horses to a halt.

"The escaped prisoner you've been looking for was just seen at my cottage. He managed to steal one of the horses and headed north." Gunilda said.

"Yes. We heard he was seen hopping on the back of a wagon in the middle of town." the Sheriff said.

"He must have jumped off of it close to Lady Gunilda's home." Guy added.

"Yes. So it would seem." Gunilda said. "I didn't personally witness him, but it was relayed to me upon my return from my futile trip into town."

"Who witnessed him?" the Sheriff asked.

"Safforus. He manages the stables, but I hate to call him my stable master, because he's useful for so much more than just that. He went after him, armed with his sword, and carrying a length of rope to restrain the man. It looked like he was headed towards Sherwood. He knows the man is wanted. Drake told him about it." she explained.

"Curses! Mordrid is specifically looking for a wagon." Guy spat.

"Yes, but Drake is with the search team. He may have seen this Safforus bloke. If not, I'm sure a couple of the men would have seen Mordrid and went with him. Regardless of his mode of travel, the malefactor will be easy to spot." he said.

"Let us hope." Nichol sighed.

"I'm glad I caught you. I'll head back now. If Safforus should see any one of your men, he'll alert them to this. He knows the man is wanted, Milord." Gunilda said.

"Good. I hope he does see one of them."

"By the way, are you aware of the state of the butcher shop in town? I was there earlier. I basically took two steps inside the door, then left. I don't know what that man is selling in there, but from the odours inside there, it's definitely… abnormal." Gunilda said, shaking her head.

"I'm fully aware. We just came from there. We've shut it down." he said.

"Well, that's a relief to hear. Indeed!" Gunilda sighed. "I nearly lost my morning meal in there!"

"No doubt." Guy nodded, with a sneer.

"We recommend the Villagers hunt and dress their own game for the foreseeable future. Does that Safforus fellow hunt?" Nottingham asked.

"Sometimes. I hunt, as well." she nodded.

He was surprised to hear her say that. He couldn't recall her ever mentioning this in the past. Or, perhaps she did, and he just wasn't interested enough to hear it?

"Shall I send someone with you, Gilda?" the Sheriff asked.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Milord. Safforus acted like he was on a mission to find him, detain him, and bring him to you."

"Sounds like an invaluable worker you have there." he said.

"He is. He fought in the Crusade. He seems like he would fit in better with your men than my stables, truthfully." Gunilda said.

"Interesting." the Sheriff commented as he stroked the whiskers on his chin. He was glad he used his left hand to do so, since he used his right hand to shove the vile meat into the butcher's mouth.

"One more thing before I go. I've invited your wife and Lady Gisborne over for tea and nibbles tomorrow afternoon. Not sure if Lady Rhiannon mentioned that, but, I hope that meets your approval?" Gunilda asked.

"Yes. She did mention it. I told her I'd agree to it if one of my men accompany them, since the escaped prisoner your Safforus went after is plotting to murder her."

"This is the first I'm hearing about this." Guy added.

"Would that be a problem, Sir Gisborne? I'd like to get better acquainted with the ladies." Gunilda said.

"Given the condition my cousin has imposed, then… I'm fine with it." he relented.

"Marvellous. Very well. I'll be on my way. I'm sure some of you want to wash up after spending some time in that nasty butcher shop. I feel like I need to bathe and wash my garments, even though I only spent a couple of moments in there." Gunilda sighed.

"You got that right." Nichol agreed.

"What an absolute dump." Guy muttered.

Gunilda bid them a good day and then went on her way.

"It's sounding like you may need to talk to Drake about this Safforus fellow, George." Nichol said.

"Agreed. And, I think I know what you're referring to Nichol." Luke said.

"Yes. If what she said is correct, he might be a good candidate for City Watch." Nottingham nodded.

Then they continued on their way toward the castle.

After they arrived, the Sheriff instructed the men at the portcullis of the change of assignment. After they handed off their horses, Luke left them to join Adam at the portcullis. The others exited the stables and stood near to it a few moments to speak before going inside the castle.

"I don't know about you two, but I think that Lady Gunilda was right. I'm going to bathe right now. I feel like I've got bugs crawling on me after dealing with that vile shop. Shall I have the servants bring hot water to your rooms, too?" Nichol asked both of the men.

"Aye. Please do." Guy said.

"That would be grand, Nic. You go on ahead. I just need a quick word with Gis." the Sheriff nodded.

Nichol nodded then took his leave.

"What is it, Cousin? What do you need to say you didn't want Nic to know?" Guy asked.

"I wondered if you wanted to check out back behind the stables before we head to the main doors. Perhaps our ladies are there? Wouldn't you like to see how they're faring? It might be amusing after the horror show at the fraud shop." the Sheriff said with a knowing grin.

"Oh, right. I'd actually forgotten about that ever since we ran into Hector's ungrateful widow — if you can call her that, and then with that rubbish at Massacriar's place. Let's make it fast, though. I want to bathe before my wife returns." Guy said.

"Understood."

Meridwyn was seated on the ground against the fence, as the instruction was taking longer than she thought it would. Isabelle was attempting again to mount the palfrey. Meridwyn lost count of the number of attempts. She wasn't sure what the problem was, but, Isabelle seemed nervous.

"Goodness, this stepladder is high." Isabelle said.

"It's a mounting block, Isabelle." Rhiannon sighed.

"Maybe if we had it up against the fence as I mount it, I'll feel a little… safer?" Isabelle suggested.

"No, Isabelle. We mustn't do that. We need the area around her clear of obstacles. Hold the reins and grab the pommel of the saddle when you place your left foot in the stirrup. Your boots have a bit of a heel, I hope?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes." Isabelle nodded.

"Good. That will make it easier to grip the stirrup. Alright, Sister. Let's try that again."

The Sheriff and Guy walked toward them and stood about twenty yards away from the fence.

"Why is my wife seated on the ground?" Guy asked.

"Hmm. She doesn't look distressed. She looks… bored, actually." the Sheriff said. Then he noticed Rhiannon, appearing to be instructing Lady Isabelle on mounting the horse. "Are you watching this? Let's see how she does mounting it. I've seen her try and fail already just while we've been standing here."

"Yes, I did notice that. What the hell is she doing?" Guy asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"How am I supposed to swing my right leg way up over that without everyone seeing everything under this skirt?" Isabelle exclaimed.

"You must pull yourself up, Isabelle." Rhiannon said, shaking her head.

"Maybe this horse is too high… or, something?" Isabelle frowned.

"For crying out loud, Isabelle." Meridwyn called. "I swear, I'm growing grey hairs waiting to see you mount the damned thing."

"How will I not fall off? What's… going to hold me up?" Isabelle asked nervously, ignoring Meridwyn's comment.

"You see the slope on the back of the saddle? That helps support you, but the biggest thing will be your posture, and positioning." Rhiannon said.

"It's not going to move while I do this, will it?"

"She." Rhiannon sighed. "No. As long as you don't scare her. Don't make loud noises, or sudden movements. Don't kick her, and don't just flop down on the saddle. You'll hurt her back." a beat. "Alright. Let's try it again."

Isabelle nodded then made another attempt. She held the reins, grabbed onto the pommel, put her left foot in the stirrup and tried to pull herself up.

Just then, Meridwyn stood to stretch her legs, and noticed the men not far behind her. She left through the opening of the fence and walked over to greet them. Just as she arrived closer to them and was about to speak, they all heard Rhiannon's voice, admonishing Isabelle.

"For God's sake, Isabelle. You're not that short! Pull yourself up!"

"You didn't tell me I'd need to be strong like Hercules just to get on this fool thing, Sister!"

"Honestly, this is interminable. This might take awhile." Meridwyn sighed, nodding behind her while addressing both of the men.

"What seems to be the problem with her, my lady?" Guy asked.

"I think she really is afraid of heights. She mentioned this earlier when she stood by our palfrey, but I didn't buy it. How could I? The woman jumped off a roof just over a sennight ago, and was damn near hanging over the balcony just last night." Meridwyn sighed.

"Wait… she was?" Guy asked.

"That's what Rhiannon told me last night." Nottingham nodded.

"What the… and now she wants to learn to ride? Is she… fit for this?" Guy asked, incredulously.

"Look at her, husband. Does Isabelle look like she'll be going anywhere fast to you?" Meridwyn asked with a knowing quirk of her brow.

"Hmm. You do have a point." Guy chuckled.

"My lady must be frustrated beyond belief." Nottingham sighed.

"She's been quite patient, and she's very informative. Even I have learned a few things — even though the horse has barely moved in the longest while." Meridwyn said.

"Looks like this may take longer than your wife originally thought, George." Guy said.

"Ha! I'll say! Our palfrey is about to fall asleep from boredom, Guy." Meridwyn scoffed.

"Indeed. This part of it shouldn't take longer than five minutes. How long has she been trying to mount the horse, Meridwyn?" the Sheriff asked.

"It's been quite awhile. I had to sit for a bit. It's like waiting for grass to grow." she said with a knowing gaze. Then she looked to her husband. "Does this mean you're finished with my wimple? Can I have it back now, Guy?"

"No, my lady. This needs a good scrub, or, to be burned — your choice. I suggest the latter myself, but, that's just me." Guy sighed.

"Indeed, Gis." Nottingham sneered. Then he directed his attention back to his wife teaching Isabelle.

"Why on earth would you suggest that? Hand it over, husband. I'm sure you want to take that from around your neck?"

"I don't want this thing coming near you right now, Meridwyn. You're liable to get sick from the rot odour that permeated it!" Guy huffed.

"He's not exaggerating." Nottingham said.

"I see. Sort of. Did you two need anything, or, were you just observing?"

"We just wanted to see if you were here, and how things were faring. It seems my lady has things under control… so far." the Sheriff said.

"We've been out here awhile now. I'm guessing we won't be much longer." Meridwyn nodded.

"Good. We'll leave you to it, then." he said.

"Did you wish to speak to Rhiannon?" Meridwyn asked.

"No. If Isabelle knows we are here it might increase her nervousness. I also want to get washed. If you knew where we just came from, you would understand." Nottingham said.

Meridwyn looked at each of the men, curiously.

"I'll tell you about it later, my lady. I'm planning to do the same just now." Guy said.

"Very well." she nodded.

The two men went on their way, as Meridwyn returned to her spot.

Ancel was successful in locating the Captain not long after Drake left with Safforus. After they rounded up others on the team, they headed to the main road to continue north. They barely made it a mile when Mordrid caught up to them. He guided his horse beside Duke Farnsworth's horse.

"Mordrid? What are you doing out here? Weren't you supposed to be visiting the butcher shop in town with the Sheriff?" Duke Farnsworth asked.

"Change of plans, Duke. Did you see him? Is that why you're all headed north?"

"If you're referring to the fugitive, no. We didn't see him. But, another man did. Apparently, he stole a horse from Lady Hayward's stables." the Captain said.

"Interesting. We were told by a lady in town that he hopped on the back of a wagon. She told us which direction they were headed, and I was sent here to go after him, and alert you if I ran into you." Mordrid said.

"Guess he decided he needed his own transportation." Gerad remarked.

"Crafty little swine." Ancel muttered.

"Where's Drake?" Mordrid asked.

"He rode ahead with Safforus to try and catch him." Ancel said.

"Who the hell is Safforus?" Mordrid asked, curiously.

"He works for Lady Hayward. Drake and I saw him heading north. Drake knew him. I sent them ahead and left to alert the Captain." Ancel explained.

"How long ago?"

"Perhaps a half hour. Maybe a bit more." Ancel said.

"What were your instructions if you saw us?" the Captain asked.

"To alert you of what we were told, then aid your search." Mordrid nodded.

"Good. Let's pick up the pace, then. Drake and that Safforus fellow may need assistance if they get to him." Duke Farnsworth said.

Drake and Safforus were well ahead of the search team, and speeding along the Great North Way. They were frustrated as they hadn't seen Hamon at all.

"You sure that was him, Safforus?" Drake asked, keeping an eye on the road ahead.

"It had to be him, Officer Drake. Didn't you say he was short and rotund, with balding ginger hair?"

"Yes. That is correct."

"I didn't get a good look at his features, but I saw enough to know that had to be him. From where I stood, he looked exactly as you described." Safforus said.

"Hmm. Here comes a carriage heading south. Let's ask the driver if he saw him." Drake suggested. "Slow your horse."

Safforus did so, then looked to Drake, curiously.

"That carriage is moving fast. What's your plan?" Safforus asked.

"Simple. We block their path." Drake said as he slowed his horse to a halt.

Safforus followed suit and they stayed side by side, blocking the road off to encourage the driver to stop.

Within a few minutes, the driver could be heard shouting a command to the two horses.

"Whoa!" he called, pulling the reins. The horses obeyed and the carriage came to a stop fifteen feet ahead of the men.

Drake and Safforus advanced their horses closer to speak to the driver.

"What seems to be the problem? Why are we stopped?" a man called out from inside the carriage at the driver.

"It looks like one of the Sheriff of Nottingham's Black Knights wants a word." the driver called back. He looked to Drake, as he recognized his uniform.

"What can I do for you?" the driver asked.

"We're looking for a man last seen riding north." Drake said.

"Right. Can you describe him? We've passed a few travellers, and one wagon." the driver of the carriage said.

"He's short, quite rotund, and has balding ginger hair."

"He was last seen riding a chocolate coloured mare. The horse is in good health, approximately six years of age." Safforus added.

"I did see a horse like that. Didn't get the best look at the rider, though. The bloke was wearing a cloak with the hood pulled up. It was a brownish coloured cloak. I thought maybe he was a monk; but then he took a turn right into the forest, and I wondered why a monk would do such a thing?" the driver shrugged.

"How long ago was that?" Drake asked.

"Awhile now. Had to be about ten or twenty miles ago. He went east into the forest."

"Curses!" Safforus muttered.

"What's the deal with the bloke? Is he wanted?" the driver asked.

"Yes." Drake said.

"What did he do?"

"A number of things. Kidnapping, attempted murder, burning down a manor that belonged to the city, plotting to commit murder. Those are only the charges I can name from the top of my head." Drake said with a knowing look.

"Your basic garden variety criminal." Safforus added.

"I see. Well, good fortune to you, then. He's way ahead of you and into the forest. Who knows where he's gotten to by now?" the driver said.

"Indeed. We appreciate your cooperation." Drake nodded.

The men moved their horses and the carriage continued south.

"Sounds like that was him that the driver described." Safforus said.

"Indeed."

"Now what?"

"Now we wait for some men to arrive. Ancel was alerting the Captain of the Black Knights. I'm sure they'll arrive soon. Ancel said to start heading back in an hour if we couldn't find him. That time has passed; but it's pointless to head back when we'll need to continue onwards." Drake explained.

"I hope they get here before sundown, Officer Drake. We're deep in this cursed forest now. You can't see a hair's width in front of you in here after dark." Safforus pointed out.

"That won't be for a few hours yet. If they don't arrive soon we'll make our way back, then. You're right. It's not like we can go after him in the forest with torches ablaze." Drake sighed.

Rhiannon arrived to the private chambers to find her husband seated on a chair in front of the fireplace. He wore his robe and breeches, and his hair was wet. He stood when she entered, and watched her remove her cape. He was a bit surprised to see she was still wearing her leather underneath the cape.

"Don't you customarily change out of that in Lady Arianna's rooms, my lady?" he asked as he walked toward her.

"Yes. But, after the afternoon I've had, the less people I see, the better." Rhiannon sighed.

"The riding lesson? I saw you, but, I didn't want to interrupt."

"Yes. I honestly don't think Isabelle gave a moment's thought to how this would play out. I spent ages with her. She is still yet to mount the palfrey."

"Seriously?" he asked.

"Indeed. Finally, I had to call it, and tell her we'd continue on the morrow. I didn't know who was in danger of falling asleep quicker: Meridwyn, or, the horse." Rhiannon said, shaking her head.

Nottingham began to chuckle.

"It's not funny, George. It's exasperating, frankly."

"I'm sure, my lady. It just seems a touch… comical."

"I suppose it would be if I wasn't so spent from it. Speaking of which — why do you look like you're about to retire for the night? It's still daylight — if you can call that dark grey sky daylight."

"I needed to wash as soon as I arrived. I'll dress when my hair begins to dry."

"I see. What happened that you needed to do that so early in the day?"

"Massacriar's butcher shop. More like a fraud shop. It was in a vile state. We shut it down." he said.

"Oh, my. Rebeccah was right. She mentioned something about this to me. Well, if it was in that bad of a state, I'm glad you took appropriate measures."

"The whole damn town will be glad we did. Trust me. Surprised I haven't heard of illness as a result of it." the Sheriff sighed.

"Let us hope you won't, my love." she said as she unbuttoned her black leather coat. She tossed it aside then untucked the tunic from her breeches.

"Come, my lady. Come and sit by the fire. You look tired." he said. He grasped her hand and led her to a chair.

"Do you have much left to attend to today?" Rhiannon asked, after she seated herself. She rested her right elbow on the arm of her chair and rested her head on her hand.

"No, not much. Just need to check in with Robert about anything that may have come up while we were gone. Then, I'll need to meet with Luke when he returns from Fingle's shop with the new longbows, and then a meeting with the Captain when the search team returns." the Sheriff said as he resumed his position on his chair.

"It's funny how you described that as being… not much." she smiled.

"Yes, well, there's definitely been busier days in the past."

"Of course." she nodded.

"Would you like some brandy?" he asked.

"Oh, no. If I did that now I'd be soon asleep, my sweet. I need something to wake me, but I don't think there is such a thing?"

"A strong cup of tea would work. Ordinary tea, not batwing tea." he said.

"I'll just sit for a bit. Then, perhaps I'll ask for a servant to bring me some. Maybe a pot of tea." Rhiannon smiled.

"How long were you teaching Isabelle?" he asked.

"Since shortly after you left to meet your men in the Council Quarters, before you headed into town."

"That was hours ago. No wonder you seem tired, my lady."

"Yes. I had no idea it would be such a lengthy session. And, we didn't get very far with it."

"Hopefully it will go more smoothly on the morrow." he smiled.

"Let us hope." she sighed. "I should change out of these clothes before I'm unable to move from this chair. I'll return to you shortly." she said as she stood from her chair. Then she headed into the bedchamber to change.

When fifteen minutes had passed, the Sheriff decided to check in on her. He opened the doors to the bedchamber and found his wife to be sleeping on top of the bed, now wearing a gown. He softly walked to the bed, then grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed to cover her.

When he went back to the den, he scribbled a note for her then went back into the bedchamber and quietly placed it upon the pillow beside her. Next, he summoned for the Scribe. He had something special in mind for later with his wife, and the Scribe was going to need to make the necessary arrangements. Following that, he draped his surcoat over his arm, had a sentry summon Robert, then left for the Council Quarters.

Just before sundown, Luke was heading through town to meet with Samson Fingle after Castor and Beric returned from Massacriar's butcher shop. He was grateful he didn't need to interact much with Castor. The men reported that the butcher shop was effectively boarded up, and the notices the Sheriff dictated to the Scribe were posted to warn the Villagers to stay out of the shop due to health concerns.

Soon he arrived to the bow craftsman's shop. He dismounted and secured his horse, then walked the path toward the shop. He made it to the door and knocked. Within moments, Samson was there to greet him.

"Good even, Officer Luke. I have those longbows ready for you. Step inside and I'll gather them for you." Samson said.

Luke nodded and entered inside the shop.

Within moments Samson came from the back, carrying the two longbows.

"I think you'll find these will serve your needs better than what you've been working with." Samson said.

"They're very finely crafted. Thank you." Luke smiled.

"You're welcome. Happy to help. I've already started work on the crossbows, too."

"I'm sure Milord will be most pleased to hear that, Samson." Luke said, as he took the longbows from him.

"Indeed."

"You said you've been supplying him for almost two years, correct?"

"Yes." Samson nodded.

"That must have been a bit strange to you after chiefly supplying Robin of Locksley."

"I suppose, at first. If someone had told me I'd have that arrangement with him a year prior to that, I would have laughed so hard I might have damn near killed myself." Samson chuckled.

"Yet, here you are. Now, you mostly supply the Sheriff, correct?" Luke asked.

"Yes? What is it you're getting at, Luke?"

"I guess I just find it fascinating. You see, I've only known Milord for three months. He's been very good to me from the outset. I met him as a messenger, bringing him a missive from the Captain who was on a mission in the north. Within days of meeting him, I saw him again. Next thing you know he inquired about my skill set and offered me a position in the Black Knights." Luke said.

"Interesting. However, what has that to do with the arrangement I have with your employer now?"

"I come from the County of York. I've only been here a few months, so I only heard stories about Robin Hood. I couldn't say how much of those tales were accurate. I didn't know him, and I certainly didn't know Milord at that time." Luke said.

"I see. You want to learn more, I take it?"

"Yes, I'd be most interested, if you have a moment sometime."

"Why don't you come in to the manor with me, Luke? Do you need to return soon?"

"I have some time. I'd like that." Luke smiled.

"Good. I'm finished working for the day. Let me just lock up the shop."

Mortianna was headed to the Wordsworths' chambers, carrying a pot of batwing tea with her. Between Isabelle, and Officer Luke, shed been kept rather busy, steeping it, and delivering it. She would be taking some to Luke later. Luckily, when she brought him a cup in the morning, he told her he wouldn't need it again until well after sundown, or she might have been taking a cup of it to his rooms after seeing Isabelle. It was times like these she missed her old apprentice, Hecate. If Hecate were here she could task her with these tea deliveries.

Finally, she arrived to the door and knocked. Within moments, Isabelle opened it.

"Thank you, Madam. I was good all day until recently. I'm sure this will help loads." Isabelle said as she took the pot from her.

"Good. Keep drinking that, child. It shall help with the nausea you're feeling."

"I will. Oh, and I'm ready whenever you are regarding that other matter."

"We're going to pretend ye didn't say that just now, child. It's only been one day. Ye need to lend more contemplation to the matter." Mortianna said.

"Oh. I see. Very well." Isabelle sighed.

"I'll bring some more in the morning." the witch said, nodding to the pot.

"Thank you, Mortianna." she said. Then the two women bid each other a good evening.

Luke was seated on a chair in Samson's sitting room, a mug of ale in his hand. Samson was seated across from him, looking to Luke, curiously.

"What would you like to know?" Samson asked.

"Well, it would seem that of everyone left here in Nottingham, you probably knew Locksley the best. I'm curious what he was like." Luke said.

"I see. Well, I knew him, but I didn't spend a great deal of time with him. We needed to keep our meetings secret."

"I see."

"It was a very different time then. Your employer was almost a completely different person, too. Robin was like a freedom fighter, I guess you could say. The needs of the people of the shire were greater than his own. People were highly taxed, and if they couldn't pay, their homes and businesses were burned. Robin fought against that." Samson said, sipping of his ale.

"It's difficult to imagine Milord being… difficult." Luke said, softly.

"That's putting it mildly. Like I said, he was almost completely different then, to who he is now."

"Was he really such a… bad person?" Luke asked.

"I can tell you hold him in high esteem, so I'm not going to go into detail, Luke. I don't want to ruin your perception of him. He was driven, for none of the right reasons. Power and greed was his game then. He was calculating and ruthless. His entire focus was on capturing Robin and his men." Samson said.

"And, what of Locksley? What was he like?"

"He was tall. About the same height as the Sheriff. He had sandy brown hair, blue eyes. He was smart, kind, obviously good with a bow, and also focused on his mission. A pall fell over the Village when Robin was killed. Fear was palpable." Samson said, softly.

"When did that change?" Luke asked, curiously.

"When the Sheriff changed." Samson said, simply.

"When was that, do you think?" Luke asked, then took a swig of ale.

"Within months of Robin's death, after that incursion in the courtyard. Everything changed. His Captain was thought to be dead. Lady Marian left for London. King Richard had returned. And, the Sheriff was quiet, and sort of kept to himself for some time. I don't know what it was, precisely. Everyone just started noticing changes in him. His fury would show itself on occasion, but he became a little more agreeable than what everyone was inured to. There was distrust on the part of the Villagers for awhile. Then, it became very apparent, I suppose, when he met his wife." Samson explained.

"How does one go from being a bad person to a relatively decent person?" Luke asked.

"A good deal of self reflection, I imagine. Perhaps he started to see things much more clearly, after everything turned out very differently to what he thought would happen. At that time, all everyone knew was that something had to give. We thought Robin would save us all and go back to being Lord Locksley, with Marian at his side. None of us ever imagined it would be the Sheriff who would change in a positive manner." Samson shrugged.

"It's nice to hear a first hand account for a change." Luke said.

"I hope so. It doesn't do any good to mention details about how the Sheriff acted then. What matters is how he conducts himself now." Samson said.

"He's a decent sort. Sure, he will show us when he disagrees, or is displeased; but, he's been kind to me from day one, really. Almost… fatherly to me. I was… unwell recently. He never left my side, Samson."

"That is certainly an unexpected turn for him. You said when you lived in the north, you heard stories about Robin, and, no doubt, the Sheriff. How did you reconcile with what you had heard about him when he offered you a position in the Black Knights? Did any of that enter your mind?" Samson asked, curiously.

"Yes, it was there in back of my mind; but I kept my focus on the man I was seeing. I would wonder from time to time if that Sheriff would emerge, but, he hasn't." Luke shrugged.

He didn't mention how he saw a slight glimpse of the old Sheriff a sennight ago. In Luke's mind, it didn't matter anyway. He was testy at that time, but not dangerous. And, Luke knew even then it was only temporary.

"It sounds like you have a special relationship with him, Luke. Maybe you have been an instrument of change in him, too?"

"How so?"

"Because… maybe he saw something in you he wished to nurture. Maybe… you knew each other in another life? I've heard of strange notions like that. I don't know how true that is, but some people have instant connections with certain people. It sounds like you and he share that kind of connection." Samson postulated, then sipped of his ale.

"I never thought of that, but, perhaps you're right. He's always sort of… championed me." Luke admitted.

"Then, don't question it. I suspect you shall always have that sort of bond with him." Samson said.

"I hope so. He's a bit like… the father to me that I never had." Luke said, softly. Then, he took a sip of ale from his mug.

"Did I help to satisfy your curiosity?" Samson asked.

"Yes, Samson. I appreciate you taking the time, and for the ale." Luke smiled.

"Good. There's only one thing I feel compelled to mention, as you might not have thought of it." he hinted.

"What is that?"

"Since you have a special connection to Milord Sheriff, with that comes some responsibility." Samson began.

"Oh, of course. I take my role in the Black Knights seriously. No worries there!"

"I'm sure you do, Luke. I can see that you do. That's… not what I'm referring to."

"What do you mean, then?" Luke asked, narrowing his blue green eyes.

"You are probably the only one of his men he has had such a bond with. I doubt he's ever sat at another's sick bed like he did with you."

"I don't really know. I've never known of the others needing to be tended to by the medicus while I've been working for him, except… minor things." Luke shrugged.

Then, he remembered Alfred being knocked out by Lady Marian. The man had a bump on his head for a good while and was out cold for almost twenty four hours. Alfred never mentioned Milord checking on him. And, recently, Emory was stabbed by the waylayer who was intent on voicing his objections to his brother being in the dungeon. Emory didn't mention the Sheriff checking in on him, either.

Luke sighed and took another swig of ale from his mug. Samson was right.

"Has he ever revealed anything of a personal nature to you?"

"Only a couple of things about him, while I was unwell. He spent a good deal of time at my bedside, and sometimes the conversations would take a few different directions." Luke explained.

"Hmm. That's what I mean. He's very guarded and private."

"Of course, he is, Samson; and, I respect that. It's not my job to pry into his life."

"But, you see… that's the thing. For whatever reason, he is comfortable with you." Samson pointed out.

"I suppose. In fairness, all I ever did was be polite with him. From the moment I met him. I… didn't see a reason not to be." Luke shrugged.

"You hold a power over him."

"Excuse me? I don't understand what you're getting at?"

"Of everyone of his men, you hold the power to either hurt, or anger him the most." Samson said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"I don't intend to hurt, or anger him. I would lay down my life for him if needs be." Luke said, firmly.

"If you do, whether you intend to or not, we may see a resurfacing of his ire. Just something I think you should keep in back of your mind." Samson cautioned.

"I see. That never occurred to me, but… it makes sense." Luke frowned.

He never wished to displease the Sheriff. It was bad enough seeing the disappointment on his face on Saturday night. The men often teased him about being the Sheriff's favourite, and he would brush it off because it made him feel strange. Luke didn't want his comrades to think he was a bootlicker. But, some of the things Milord told him over the course of the last weekend while he was recuperating, solidified their statements. He felt a chill run through him with the dawn of realization from Samson's words.

Robert was checking in on Isabelle between a visit in the armoury, and next, a meeting with the Sheriff. He found her sleeping in a chair, her head tilted back, holding a cup in her hand. There was a grimace upon her face.

"What are you trying to tell me, Madam? Your lips move, yet I cannot hear a sound? There is… no sound at all? Anywhere! What are you trying to say?" Isabelle implored Mortianna, who stood before her holding a cup in her hand.

The witch sighed, gave a stern look of warning to her, then resumed speaking.

Again. Nothing.

"What is happening, Mortianna? Why can I see you, and not hear you? Why can't I hear a sound? Am I dead? Tell me! Am I -- "

Robert walked toward her and put his hand upon her shoulder.

"Dearest. It's alright. Wake up, my Belle." he whispered into her ear.

"What… are you trying… to say? Am I… dead?" Isabelle murmured.

"Belle? You better be damn well dreaming! Wake up!" Robert exclaimed as he gently shook her.

Isabelle fluttered her eyelashes, then her sight slowly adjusted. She looked up into her husband's frightened eyes.

"What is it, Robert? Did… something happen?" she asked, her voice hoarse from her mouth being dry.

"You don't recall, dearest?" he asked as he kissed her forehead.

"I was sipping this marvellous batwing tea. Between all of the activity today, and the calming effects of the tea, I'm beat, my love. I guess I… nodded off." Isabelle said, still half asleep, because she did not even recognize her error.

"It… appeared you were having a bad dream." a beat. "What do you mean by "all of the activity today"? What activity? You're supposed to be resting, Isabelle. You heard Thomas as well as I!" Robert said, sternly.

"It was just a walk, husband."

"Really? To where?"

"The… uh… the… the stables. That's right. Rhiannon took us. She checked on Sugarhead." Isabelle said, then took a sip of her lukewarm batwing tea from her cup.

"Wife? Have you gone daft? What's in that cursed tea? What in creation do you mean by a sugar head?" Robert asked with his eyes narrowed, shaking his head, slowly.

"Her horse, silly! You know she names animals. Didn't she tell us about her cat named Odee?"

"I believe his name was Otis. Yes. That's right. I'm still hearing about Otis, for the love of Mary." he sighed.

"Yes, whatever. Her horse is named Sugarhead. We went to check on Sugarhead. It… makes her happy, so… Meridwyn and I accompanied her. The hay also makes me sneeze. So… I blame the walk, and the hay. I guess… Sugarhead, too, since… he likes to eat hay for some strange reason." Isabelle shrugged.

Indeed, she was rather surprised to see how well the palfrey enjoyed the hay that Rhiannon fed it at the end of today's session. What a strange food choice for such a large animal?

"I'm pretty certain my sister's horse is a mare. That makes her a she, my dear." Robert chuckled.

"Then, that's even worse, husband. Giving a girl horse a name like Sugarhead!" Isabelle sighed.

"I don't have much time, dearest. I must make haste to meet with him, for he has summoned me. Why don't I help you to the bed? You still look a bit tired."

"You're right, Robert. I am. I'll just rest a bit, then we can dine when you return." Isabelle smiled. She set the cup down on the table beside her, then took his hand.

As soon as she sat upon the bed, her hand still clasped with her husband's, she fell to the pillow and was instantly asleep. Robert kissed her cheek, then covered her with a blanket before leaving.

A short time afterward, he walked into the Council Quarters.

The Sheriff stood from a chair at the table and walked toward him.

"I expected to see you well before now. Is it… raining? Your hair is wet." Robert asked, curiously.

"No. It's not raining. It's wet from soap and water. Your hair would be wet, too — if you were the Advisor I chose to come with us. Be grateful that Advisor Number Two was picked." Nottingham sighed.

"Oh. It was… that bad?"

"Only thing missing were rats. I think they avoided the place because even vermin knew something was wrong. We shut it down." a beat. "What news to report here?"

"Nothing of consequence. Everything went smoothly. There is nothing out of the ordinary, or any incident to report." Robert said.

"Good. How are the shields coming along?"

"I just came from the armoury not long ago. We have fifteen ready now. We still need to test the last three that were completed." Robert said.

"Very good. That's coming along nicely. And… how's you wife faring?"

"She's very tired from the activity earlier with Rhiannon and Lady Meridwyn." Robert said, simply.

"Activity?" the Sheriff asked. His eyes narrowed, curiously. Did Robert know?

"Yes. Rhiannon took them with her when she checked on her horse. Sugarhead, Isabelle said it's called."

"Oh. I see. Right." he nodded. "Although, the first part of the name is right, but I think there's another name attached to it. Sugar… cake, perhaps?"

"Hmm. Sugarcake sounds more like something my sister would think of than Sugarhead. That must be it." Robert said.

Just then, the sentry announced Luke's arrival. The Sheriff gestured for the sentry to show him into the meeting chamber.

"I have the longbows from Samson Fingle, Milord. Shall I take one to Ancel?" Luke asked after the sentry left them, and closed the door.

"That's fine. Are you pleased with them?"

"Yes, Milord. Have a look." Luke said as he passed them to him.

"Yes. Quite finely crafted." he agreed during a brief inspection. He passed the bows back to Luke.

"Good. I'll see that Ancel gets his right away, Milord. If there's no other tasks for me, I'd like to get washed, after that dreadful experience at the butcher shop. I… plan to visit Floria. I have completed the evening patrols."

"Hmm. Well, firstly, the men haven't returned as yet from the search. So, Ancel isn't here. Second, I didn't have anything slotted in for you, but… what's this about seeing Floria?"

Luke thought about this all the way back to the castle. The final words of wisdom Samson imparted struck him. He decided that absolute honesty was needed now. If he kept on deceiving his employer, it would displease him. It was better to be candid and face the consequences now.

"I… like her, Milord. Very much. I… can't describe it. I don't plan to marry her. I don't even to wish to bed her yet. That part I told you was no lie; but, I'd rather you know when I intend to see her." Luke began.

"So… you're telling me you expect me to bend the rules?" he sighed.

"Milord, I wish to be honest. Truly honest, and not hide from you. Could you… afford me the chance to prove to you that I can balance my duties, and a little free time with Floria? It's… close companionship. That is all." Luke explained.

"Damn it, lad!" Nottingham huffed.

"What do you want him to do for you, Notty? Bleed for you? Oh, wait. That's right. He kind of did do that when he was bled — for chewing on a foreign plant he thought would — ultimately — serve you better, didn't he?" Robert pointed out with a knowing glance.

Nottingham sighed and shot a look of scorn to Robert. Then, he turned to Luke.

"I do appreciate you being forthright with me, Luke. Keep your visits with her brief, and for all intents and purposes, act as if I don't know. If you keep this a secret, others won't think I'm showing you favours. And, I'm only showing you favours because you've mentioned more than once that you don't intend to bed her." the Sheriff said, firmly.

"Very well, Milord. Understood."

"If you start to get romantic notions otherwise like an infatuated boy, then we might have problems. Specifically, with your focus on tasks. Don't let me regret this, lad."

"Duly noted, Milord."

"As for the morrow, you are tasked with escorting my wife and Lady Gisborne into town. They'll be visiting Lady Gunilda for a time. You're assigned to protect them should the potato bloke end up there, for some strange reason. Even though today we heard he was headed north, he is still a threat, particularly to my wife. I trust you most of all to protect her." the Sheriff said.

"Of course, Milord. I shall see to their safety." Luke nodded.

The sentry opened the door and stepped inside the meeting chamber for a moment to get the Sheriff's attention.

"Oh, good. The men have returned?" he asked.

"No, Milord. Not yet. There's a man here to see you." the sentry announced.

"Satan's teeth!" he muttered. He cleared his throat. "Whom is here to see me?"

"He says his name is Fladius, Milord."

"Hmm. Never heard that name before. Alright. Whatever! Send him in."

"I should leave you now, Milord. Since the stranger has requested an audience with you." Luke said.

"No, Luke. Stay. You are the only one of my top men present at the moment. There's no time to summon for Gisborne. The rest are searching for potato bloke. We shall all remain here to see what this Fladius bloke wants." the Sheriff said, firmly.

"As you wish, Milord." Luke nodded.

Robert nodded in agreement, as well.

The sentry showed the tall, slender middle aged man inside.

"Good even, Milord. I'm sorry to trouble you."

"Right. What can I do for you?" he asked.

"My employer has been missing for two days. It's not like him to be gone so long without leaving instructions with me. He would probably have my hide for reporting this to you, but it's a growing concern. I fear something has happened to him." Fladius said.

"I see. You could start by telling me his name, and how you're employed by him."

"Yes. His name is Father Tuttle. I manage the grounds and the upkeep of the church he preaches at. The Church of the Holy Trinity on the outskirts of town."

Robert and Luke gave knowing looks to the Sheriff.

"I see. Father Tuttle. The leader of the Christian Brotherhood for Jesus, or some such nonsense, correct?" Nottingham scoffed.

"The… which, Milord Sheriff?" Fladius asked, a genuine expression of bewilderment on his face.

"You're telling me you know nothing of the rebellion he leads. Ha! Right!" the Sheriff sneered.

"Milord, I do not fraternize with him. I only work for him. I don't know what it is you're speaking of, I'm only here to report he is missing these last two days." Fladius said.

"What do you two make of this?" Nottingham whispered to his men.

"I think he's truthful. He seemed genuinely surprised at the mention of the brotherhood." Luke said, softly.

"I wouldn't kill the messenger, Milord. I agree with Luke. I don't think he was aware of the secret double life of his employer — until now." Robert whispered.

Nottingham sighed, then looked back to the grey haired man standing before him.

"He's the second of our flock to go missing." Fladius added.

"You mean of the parishioners? I'm sure I can guess what happened to that fellow, too." the Sheriff said, shaking his head.

"No. Not quite a parishioner, Milord. And… not a man, either."

"One of the nuns?" he asked.

"No, Milord. She was being cared for by a nun, and housed in the guest quarters of Father Tuttle's manor. We haven't seen Celest in over a fortnight. I found her laying on the ground. On the path leading to the church." Fladius said.

"I see." Nottingham said.

Curses! Should have taken her to the cave at Dead Man's Curve. No doubt, the concept of sanctuary was discussed.

"Father Tuttle offered her sanctuary, but, she declined. I'm guessing she went on her way. It's Father Tuttle that concerns me." Fladius said.

"Right. Well, he is here. In the dungeon." the Sheriff said, simply.

"I beg your pardon, Milord?"

"He and some of his brotherhood followers showed up at my wedding. They were taken care of."

"May I see him, Milord?" Fladius asked.

"There's been a lot going on these last two days. No one has had time to question him yet. Once he is questioned, I may permit it. Come back in a couple of days." he said, dismissively.

"Is there any way I can vouch for him, for his release?"

"I can't give a definitive answer to that until he is questioned. I suggest you go about your business and we can revisit this request in a couple of days." Nottingham said.

"Very well."

"You're sure you know nothing of this Christian Brotherhood organization he is leading?" the Sheriff asked, pointedly.

"Very sure. He's never mentioned it. No one ever visits him at his manor. The only people there recently besides him were Sister Isemay, and Celest. The only thing I know about Celest is that she was a former courtesan. There's been no meetings of any sort there, or in the church. I'm guessing he must meet with those men at another location?" Fladius shrugged.

"Very well. The church shall be visited by some of my men." the Sheriff said.

"Understood, Milord. I don't know what this rebellion thing is about, but… he is not a violent man. I can't see him inciting violence, Milord — from the bits I know about him, anyway." Fladius added.

"We shall see. It will all come out, I'm sure." he said.

Fladius nodded, then took his leave.

After the door closed behind him, the Sheriff shook his head and sighed.

"How do you want to handle this?" Robert asked.

"We need to question the Priest, and we will perform a search of the church, and the Priest's home. There may be documented evidence there of these Brotherhood meetings, and something written of their mission." the Sheriff said.

"Would you like me to interrogate the Priest forthwith, Milord Sheriff?" Luke asked.

"I'm going to sit down with the Captain, my Advisors, and Lieutenant to discuss the strategy for a search of the church, the supposed Priest's home, and while we're at it, let's do a search of that Fladius bloke's quarters, as well. We need to confirm, or disprove his statement that he is not in collusion with Father Titlittle." the Sheriff sneered.

Robert began to chuckle. Luke looked down and covered his mouth with the palm of his free hand to stifle his.

"Father Tuttle." Robert corrected him.

"Whatever. And, with a name like Fladius, I am tempted to believe the old bloke. Who would want to draw attention to themselves with an unfortunate moniker like that?" he chuckled. Then he straightened his expression. "Although, it's better than Hamon, so, there's that… "

"Milord?" Luke asked with an expression of bewilderment at the Sheriff's ramblings.

"It's like a staged play, or, something? I swear, I've never seen so many twists and drama as I have this last year!" a beat. "Or, perhaps it was always there, but at the time I was too full of myself to see it?" Nottingham muttered as he stroked his chin.

"Uh, George? Are you al — " Robert began, but was interrupted.

"And, in case you two were wondering, the Celest woman he referred to was the same deranged consort who harmed Rhiannon and Floria only two nights ago." a beat. "That's what I mean! The story just gets… murkier?"

"Indeed, Milord. So, we should commence interrogation of the Priest. We can gain information by as much of what he doesn't say, as much as what he does." Luke suggested.

"I agree with Luke, Milord." Robert nodded.

"Good. We're all on the same page."

"Are we? I'm still at the prologue, and you're at the climax… I think?" Robert said, tilting his head to the side and grinning.

"I'm in agreement. But, Gisborne shall interrogate him. He oversees the dungeon. He knows the full story behind the cursed whore." he said, firmly. Then he looked to Luke. "If he asks for assistance in further interrogation, you will do it. This has to be his project. This Titlittle father fellow is the head of a snake. We don't give him up until we have every last one of those brothers for Jesus blokes, and whatever printed propaganda they're spreading. This is why I need Gis to do it." a beat. "I don't have the mental energy to bring either you, or Nic up to speed on everything he knows." Nottingham sighed.

"Understood, Milord." Luke said.

"And, you will heed my words. No one is to know we had the Floria chat. If I bend the rules for you publicly, the rest will expect the same treatment. We'll never get a cursed thing accomplished around here because they'll all be too busy fucking. I'm serious!" Nottingham huffed.

"Very well." Luke sighed.

"What was that about? That sigh. You disagree?"

"I was hoping my honesty with you would afford us… to be seen."

"Not at this time, Luke. Perhaps in the future, but we've enough on our agenda to deal with. They cannot know. You know what will happen if they knew I approved of whatever you've got going on with dear, innocent Floria." the Sheriff said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Yes, Milord." Luke nodded.

"I've explained the reason I conceded to this, and the reason why you need to remain cautious. You know where I stand."

"Very well, Milord. Duly noted." Luke nodded. "If I see Sir Guy, shall I alert him he needs to interrogate the Priest?"

"No. I'll tell him. I don't want him to do it until the morning. I want Father Titlittle to have another worrisome, sleepless night so that he'll let his guard down from exhaustion when Gis questions him." he grinned, deviously.

"Fair enough. I never thought of that. Clever." Luke said.

"Indeed." Robert agreed.

"One has to be — to be running the whole damn shire. Every move I make has thought behind it." Nottingham said.

Rhiannon was in the bath chamber, soaking in the tub, preparing for whatever it was her husband had planned. She awoke close to an hour prior, and found a note on the pillow beside her:

"My lady;

I shall be occupied for awhile, taking care of those meetings I told you of.

When you awaken, prepare yourself. Don't bother sending for trays for us. Primp, dress, bring your cape, and meet me in my office when you're ready. I've something special planned for you.

Always,

-- G."

She smiled as she thought of finding that lovely handwritten note waiting for her. She wasn't sure what he had in mind, but, whatever it was, she was already intrigued. She knew exactly what she was going to wear. A gown made by Madam Oberon which she'd been saving for a special night. And, so it seemed, this night would be.

Isabelle was still asleep, and at this moment was having the most peculiar dreams. Again, Mortianna stood before her, holding a cup. It looked like the same dream all over again, but she was waiting to see if the witch could be heard…

"What is it, Mortianna?"

"Here is the potion ye requested." the witch said, staring into her eyes.

"Thank you, Madam." Isabelle nodded as she took the cup.

"When ye drink of this, it shall be your deed alone. It will be you who kills your child." Mortianna warned.

"It shall be lost to me, anyway." Isabelle corrected her.

"The child's fate is in your hands now. Drink of it, and ye will kill your child." the witch's voice echoed as she began to fade from her.

"Wait! Come back! What do you mean?" Isabelle called out to her, looking all around for her. The witch could no longer be seen.

Next, came a series of images. The first was the cup in her hand, containing the potion within. She tossed the contents into the fireplace, fearful from the witch's words. Next, she was bleeding, and she and Robert wept. The next scene, she was holding a tiny infant in her arms, around the size of her niece who had recently passed away. The child had a grey colour to his skin. His lips looked like they had been painted purple. The child was dead. She held the babe and leaned into her husband as she wept. In the next scene, she was in the process of delivering the infant at term. Thomas was there. Said the child was almost here.

"One more push, Lady Isabelle. That's it! Very good! Okay, stop. Pant, Isabelle." he coached her.

She felt the child deliver from her body. Thomas looked down, and became quite pale and quiet as he frowned. Isabelle asked about the child.

No response.

"Where's Robert?" she pleaded.

Thomas whispered to his assistant, whom didn't have distinguishable features in the dream. The faceless woman nodded and left the chamber. Soon, she returned with Robert, and a hushed conversation between the three of them took place by the bedchamber doors.

"The baby! Why isn't he crying?" she called out, fearfully.

"We… don't know if it's a boy. Or, a girl. I… don't know what that is. It's… not quite… human." Thomas said, gravely.

"What? That cannot be? Robert! Show me our child!"

"No, Belle. The child is… severely deformed. We will try again." her husband said, softly.

"No! We will not! Show me our child, Robert!"

"Robert. Show… me… " Isabelle murmured in her sleep as she tossed her head side to side on the pillow.

Robert had just come into the bedchamber and was startled to see his wife was troubled by unpleasant dreams again.

"Let me… see him. Robert." she whispered.

Robert was concerned to see beads of perspiration on her face. A tear streamed from her eye, and her hair was damp. He bent down to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm here, my love. It's alright." Robert said.

"I… killed it… Robert… " Isabelle murmured.

"Wake up, dearest. All is well. You're alright." he said.

Isabelle heard his voice coming through, and was grateful then to know she was only dreaming. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He sat on the bed next to her, leaned down over her, a look of concern upon his face. She sat up quickly and embraced him.

"Robert." she whispered.

"It's alright, Belle. T'was only a dream, my love." he soothed.

"I'm just… pleased to see you." Isabelle sighed. She had already forgotten most of the images in her dream. The only part of it that was tangible to her now was an overwhelming feeling of fear.

"I wasn't gone that long, dearest. Come. I've sent for a tray. It shall be here soon. We must get you fed now that you've rested, Isabelle."

"I hope it's something light." Isabelle muttered.

"Oh. Maybe I should heat you some of that batwing tea? Would that help?"

"I'm feeling fine, husband. But, one thing concerns me." Isabelle hinted.

"What is that?" Robert asked.

Isabelle took his hand and placed it over her belly.

"Oh, my!" Robert smiled. "I can feel it."

"That's just it, Robert. It's awfully early yet for a swollen belly, don't you think? It's very early days! I've made it this far in the past, and no one would ever know. Only we knew! What on earth is going on, my love? Something must be wrong." Isabelle said, nervously.

"I'm sure Thomas will have an answer, my love. We will ask him when he checks in on you on the morrow. Alright?" Robert suggested.

"Very well. I still think I should refrain from eating much tonight, though." Isabelle sighed. "It's warm in here. Do you find it warm?"

"Not particularly, but — "

"I need to get out of this gown. I'll just be a moment." she said. She grabbed her dressing gown that was laying over the foot of the bed, then went towards the bath chamber.

Robert sat upon a chair in the bedchamber to wait for her. Within moments, she emerged and slowly walked toward him. She needed to do something to erase the fear that was still with her from the dream she no longer remembered. She could only think of one thing to do to take her mind off of it. She also hoped it would prompt things to start with a miscarriage she was fully expecting any day now.

"Well, don't you look cozy now?" Robert smiled.

"I suppose. It's still too warm." she smirked as she unfastened the sash around the dressing gown and let it open. She was wearing nothing underneath.

"What… are you doing?" he asked.

"Take a wild guess, my love."

"Isabelle, I've sent for a tray. It will be here soon, I'm — "

"Hush, husband." she said as she sat upon his lap, then began to kiss him, hungrily.

The Sheriff was coming out of of the Council Quarters when he noticed his Scribe approaching him.

"Has everything been readied?" he asked the Scribe.

"Yes, Milord. Everything you requested is in place. It looks quite lovely." the Scribe nodded.

"Good. And, Jean Louis is aware?"

"Yes. He is fully prepared, Milord."

"Perfect. Thank you."

"Of course, Milord." the Scribe nodded, then took leave of him.

As soon as the Scribe left him, he saw his men returning and walking toward him. He sighed when he noticed the unfortunate looking fugitive was not with them. Gisborne was coming from the other direction, his hair still damp. The Sheriff motioned for Guy to join them in the meeting chamber.

"Well, I can already tell the search was unsuccessful." Nottingham sighed as his Captain advanced closer.

"Yes, Milord."

"Right. Come inside. Ancel, Mordrid, Drake, come and join us. The rest of you are excused and free until the morning when you'll join the Captain on another search." he instructed them.

The men followed him inside, with Gisborne not far behind them.

Finally, the door closed behind Guy, and the questions commenced.

"What the hell, Duke? Did none of you see him riding through the cursed forest?" Nottingham huffed.

"No. Not one of us did." Duke Farnsworth sighed.

"I went ahead with Safforus. He works for Lady Gunilda. We did question a carriage driver heading south on the Great North Way. He didn't recognize the fugitive. Said he was dressed like a monk. It was Safforus' description of the horse that he identified with. We were deep into the forest at that point." Drake said.

"And what did this carriage driver have to say?" the Sheriff asked.

"Said he saw him about ten or twenty miles from where we were at the time, and that he headed east, straight into the forest. It was nearing sundown at that point. We had been riding close to an hour already since Safforus got our attention, so we waited for backup and further instructions from the Captain." Drake explained.

"How does a fat, funny looking potato bloke keep slipping through our fingers?" the Sheriff demanded.

"Dumb luck from the looks of it." Mordrid muttered.

"Indeed, and a healthy fast horse, apparently." Ancel huffed.

"This is absurdity! All of you better get rested up. You will head out to that cursed forest at first light."

"Of course, Milord." Duke Farnsworth nodded.

"Ancel, Luke has your new longbow from Samson. You should get that before you retire for the night." he suggested.

"Yes, Milord. I will." Ancel said.

"Duke, when you return on the morrow, we need to meet about another matter."

"Something to do with Massacriar's shop?" Duke Farnsworth asked.

"No. We shut that vile place down today. This has to do with a search we need to implement of the Priest's home, and his church. His groundskeeper, Fladius, was here not long ago to report the Priest is missing. He was informed Father Titlittle is currently in the dungeon."

Mordrid and Ancel began to chuckle.

"Isn't the bloke's name Tuttle?" Guy asked.

"Whatever!" the Sheriff huffed. "He swore he knew nothing about the Brotherhood for Jesus blokes, but, to be sure, we'll do a sweep of the groundskeeper's quarters, too." he said, then he looked to his Captain. "We will discuss this tomorrow evening when you have returned, hopefully, with potato bloke in tow."

"Shall I interrogate the Priest, Cousin?" Guy asked.

"Yes, but not until the morning. We're going to make him sweat and squirm for one more night, so that he'll be too tired to keep his guard up when you question him."

"Of course." Guy nodded.

"Now, tell me about this Safforus fellow. What's he like?" the Sheriff asked the others present.

"From what I saw, he's just like one of us. He was on a mission to catch that malefactor and bring him straight to you, Milord." the Captain said.

"Really?"

"Indeed, Milord. No instruction needed. It was like he was part of the team." Mordrid said.

"Drake, you know him better than than anyone here. What's your assessment of him?" Nottingham asked, curiously.

"I had a chat with him a couple of days ago when I was sent to guard Lady Gunilda's home. He told me he fought in the Crusade, and was enjoying leading a quieter life. However, he then told me if the right opportunity presented for a new challenge, he would consider it. I think he's leagues above continuing to serve as her stable master. I was going to mention him to you as a possible candidate for City Watch, I just didn't get the opportunity to do so, until now." Drake explained.

"I would concur, Milord. He seems like he'd be suitable for that. He worked well with all of us. You might even consider him to join the Black Knights if a position opens up in future." Ancel added.

"I would agree. He was prepared. He came armed with a sword, and he also had a length of rope with him he was going to use to detain the fugitive with." Duke Farnsworth said.

"He was most helpful when he and I questioned the carriage driver, Milord. My description of the fugitive didn't register with the driver, but, Safforus' detailed description of the horse the bloke stole was invaluable." Drake added.

"Hmm. It sounds like we have candidate number two. Still need to meet that Slayer fellow, though. Very good. Luke is escorting my wife and Lady Gisborne to Lady Hayward's home tomorrow, as a precautionary measure in case potato bloke gets lost and heads south. I'll have Luke ask him to come and meet with me." the Sheriff said.

"Perfect. I think it would be a missed opportunity if you don't meet with him, Milord. I can envision him working with us in future, frankly. City Watch would be a good starting point for him." Duke Farnsworth added.

"Very well. At least one good thing came out of today's wild goose chase. That is all for now. You're all free to go. I suggest you fortify yourselves and go straight to your rooms. First light comes early." he advised them.

All of them nodded in agreement and they all left the Council Quarters. The men headed to the staircase, while the Sheriff headed to his office.

He waited close to twenty minutes, and then there was a knock at the door.

"Enter." he called out.

The door opened and Lady Rhiannon stepped inside wearing a gown he'd never seen before, with her cape draped over her arm. The gown was purple velvet with a low neckline. The colour complimented her aqua green eyes.

"You look ravishing, my lady." he smiled as he walked toward her.

"Thank you, my sweet. Now, where are we going? I'm assuming we're going somewhere since you asked me to bring my cape along?"

"Yes, but it's not far. What I really wanted to do was to take you away somewhere for a few days after we were wed. Alas, there's too much going on at the moment for me to be afforded the time to do so. As soon as I can do it, however, I will be whisking you away somewhere. For now, I needed to create some magick right here at home." the Sheriff smiled as he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Now, you have me intrigued, George. Every day with you has been magickal; however, I am looking forward to seeing what it is you have up your sleeve. A change of scenery is always welcome." Rhiannon smiled.

"Good. I hope this turned out as well as I had envisioned it. Come, my beautiful wife." the Sheriff said.

He offered her his arm, then grabbed his surcoat that was hanging on a hook by the door.

Rhiannon was curious to see what he had planned for her. She took his arm and smiled up at him as they left his office, wondering what the evening had in store for her.

She had heard from some how he used to be. It was times like this she was grateful that she had the best of him, and met him at the perfect time. He seemed genuinely eager to show her whatever the surprise was that was waiting for her. The only thing she hoped for now was to give him a child.

She hid it well from everyone during daylight hours, but, sometimes she'd wake in the dead of night with tears streaming from her eyes, as she often dreamt of the daughter they had lost.