"Well it's about time we were all granted a day off together!" Adam said as he raised a frothy mug of ale to his lips.
"You're bloody right about that, mate! Nice to be out of uniform. Especially nice not to have to wear that helm." Drake added.
"Indeed." Luke agreed. "I think this is the first I've been at ease in a long time."
"Then drink up, mate. You're falling behind!" Adam said as he patted him on the back.
It was Thursday night. The men were in the local tavern sharing a cup of good cheer and glad to be afforded the opportunity to do so. It had certainly been busy lately at the castle. They sat at a large wooden table. Torches were ablaze everywhere. The tavern was busy this night. Luke looked around and noticed the men and women gathered there. He picked up his mug and took a drink of his ale. Perhaps Adam was right. He could attempt to stop being on guard for once.
Drake and Adam were sharing a laugh over a joke. Luke thought he heard someone mention the Sheriff. He paused to listen again but heard nothing.
"So when was the last time you were out, mate?" Adam asked Drake as he took a sip of his ale.
"A fortnight ago. I was engaged in a wrestling match." Drake replied absently.
"Is that so?" Luke chimed in.
"Indeed – "
"Wrestling? Aye." A man seated behind Drake turned and suddenly spoke. "I challenge you then."
"No. I don't think so." Drake answered. He shook his head to move his long dark hair from his eyes.
"Are ye chicken then?" The burly man asked with a chuckle.
"No." Drake said with a sly grin.
"Go on, mate. It might be fun?" Adam whispered.
Drake looked to Luke who shrugged a response.
"Alright, mate. You asked for it." Drake said. The men stood and moved to another table to proceed with the match. Bets were being placed in the tavern as the excitement there mounted.
A serving wench appeared bringing a tray with another round of libations for the men. Drake and his opponent lifted their goblets and nodded to one another before they drank. Then the match began. Luke stood as a quiet observer while most of the men gathered there to watch were engaged in loud cheers. Which is probably why he heard the men speaking behind him.
"Aye. I'm sure it was the Sheriff who caused it. Who else would have burned down – "
"Place your bets, mate!" A tall man called to Luke suddenly.
"Forgive me." Luke said as he turned to take leave of the man.
He scanned the darkened room that was lit by torches for the source. All he could hear for the moment was the cheering. He shook his head and sighed, moving away from the commotion.
"The key is to play the game right along with him, Ancel. I shall just go along with it."
There it was again. The same man's voice. He had heard it! He looked around again. Just to the left of him were two men seated at a table. He recognized one of them, but he couldn't place him right away.
"You've already challenged him about it." The taller of the men said.
"True. But the Sheriff lied to me. He burned down my sister's home. I am a master at deceit too." The man winked to his friend.
And then Luke remembered.
"I know you." Luke said curtly. He suddenly appeared at the table and looked upon the short, stout man with the balding red hair in disgust.
"No. I don't believe you do." The man said.
"Indeed. We met in the courtyard of Nottingham Castle just over a month ago. We were taken to see the Sheriff by his guards over your display that day." Luke remarked with his eyebrow raised.
Hamon took a sip from his ale as he squinted his eyes while he studied the man before him.
"What's it to you then?" Hamon asked gruffly.
Luke leaned down and swiftly grabbed the man by his collar, startling him.
"I heard you a moment ago, speaking ill of my master – and your Sheriff!" Luke spat.
"Huh! He is not my Sheriff. And explain yourself – are you one of his men then?"
"I am one of his knights. Now… shall I call upon my comrades just over there so we can drag you back with us to answer to the Sheriff?" Luke seethed.
Hamon looked at him and smirked knowingly. Just then Luke felt something sharp point into his right thigh.
"I'd let go of him if I were you." The tall man said.
"Indeed." Hamon spoke. "Let's go outside, shall we?" He nodded to his henchman. Ancel moved the dagger away from Luke.
"It will be my pleasure." Luke sneered. He followed the unfortunate looking man and his comrade out of the tavern. He looked over toward Drake and Adam. Fortunately Adam saw him. Luke gave a look of warning and pointed discreetly to the men in front of him.
He followed them out about fifteen yards away from the tavern when the red haired man suddenly turned, quickly drawing his sword while he did so. He walked toward Luke and pointed it at him. Luke drew his sword and held it in front of him.
"You're a fool to serve that man. He burned down my sister's home. I've learned he has done worse things than that but I don't want to spoil it for you too much." Hamon seethed.
"You have no proof. What is your business in Nottingham then?" Luke demanded.
"I'm here to see a certain… maiden." Hamon smirked. He nodded to his tall henchman. "Isn't that right, Ancel?"
Ancel nodded with a knowing grin.
"Well, well, well. What have we got here, mate?" Adam suddenly chimed in as he advanced closer toward the two men along with Drake. Both men had their swords drawn.
"Trouble times two." Luke spat.
"Who are you then?" Drake demanded of the men who had threatened his comrade.
"I'm Hamon." The balding stout man replied. He pointed to his friend. "This is Ancel. And who are you? More of Nottingham's knights, I presume?"
"Yeah! You could call us: terror – times three!" Adam sneered. He pointed his sword toward Hamon. "I'd back off if I were you." He threatened.
"Fine." Hamon said as he lowered his weapon. He nodded to his henchman. "We're leaving, but… oh, do tell your master to be keeping an eye on his belongings now, won't you?" Hamon snorted. Then he turned and took leave with his comrade.
"What the hell did he mean by that?" Drake asked shaking his head.
"I don't know but I do not like it." Luke spat.
"How do you know him, mate? You sure seemed familiar with him?" Adam asked.
"Tell you what, mate." Luke began as he put his sword in its sheath and put a hand on Adam's back. "I'll tell you all about it over a frothy mug of ale. I could surely use one about now."
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"My Lord Sheriff." Lady Margaret said. "You've returned."
"Yes. I've come to see my son. How does he fare?" The Sheriff asked. He took off his gauntlets and followed Lady Margaret into Guy's manor.
"He is doing well, my lord." Lady Margaret smiled. "Indeed, he is thriving."
"Good." The Sheriff said. He proceeded up the stairs to the second floor of his cousin's manor. He walked down the hall and then into Guy's chambers. He went over to the cradle and looked down. The child was alert and looking into his eyes.
"My son." The Sheriff whispered. He reached down with both hands and lifted the baby up and held him to him. He walked over to the chair by the window and held the child in his arms looking down upon him.
"I have much to make up for with your mother, my son. But I shall try to make it right." The Sheriff whispered.
The child looked up into the glistening amber eyes. He felt sorrow coming from them. He wriggled and made a sound to let his father know he mustn't feel sad.
"I know you don't know what I speak of." The Sheriff said. "It is best you don't, my son. I will get her back. I shall win your mother back, somehow. I will not fail you." He promised.
He picked up the child and held him to his chest. The babe's head was secure under the Sheriff's chin. The child heard his father's heartbeat. It soothed him. He made appreciative sounds in response to it.
The Sheriff closed his eyes. He could get used to this… the sound of his son breathing and trying to speak. He was so helpless and so trusting of him. It made the Sheriff feel warm and content to feel the love coming from this child toward him. And then he thought of Rhiannon. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath a moment. He loved her more than any being on the planet besides his son. He loved her so much he felt he would explode. Was it over? Was it too late? He opened his eyes. I guess that will depend on just how much she loves that man in the dungeon. For tomorrow, he shall learn his fate. And soon she shall hear of it too. He had no choice. It had to be this way. He sighed and shook his head.
"So, do you have a name for him then?" Lady Margaret's voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts.
He looked to the door. She stood in the threshold observing him. "A name – does he have one?" She nodded to the child in his arms.
"Well, no. I must speak to my lady about it." The Sheriff said.
"When will that be? Hopefully before he learns to talk, I presume?" Lady Margaret said with her eyebrow raised.
"It is fortunate for you that you are skilled and very clever, else I would have removed that sharp tongue of yours a long time ago!" The Sheriff spat. He stood and then put the child in the cradle.
"My lady and I have much to discuss, and I will not name this child without her participation. Now, see to the tasks which are expected of you and stay out of my affairs!" The Sheriff warned before taking his leave.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
On Friday morning Lady Rhiannon was seated on a chair in the sitting room sipping tea. Rebeccah was just coming into the room. She noticed Rhiannon had been quiet since the day before, when they met up again at the market after going their separate ways. Now Lady Rhiannon appeared rather pale.
"Are you quite yourself, milady?" Rebeccah asked. "You have hardly touched your tea and you haven't eaten a bit of anything."
"Oh… do not mention food, Rebeccah." Lady Rhiannon said. She took a breath and swallowed.
"You haven't eaten since last evening, milady." Rebeccah pointed out.
"Yes. I'm not sure… perhaps it is only my ragged nerves but I feel so unwell. I cannot stand the thought of swallowing anything but liquid right now." Rhiannon said.
"As you wish, milady. If you get hungry, let me know." Rebeccah said.
"Indeed. I will" Rhiannon promised. She stood up and walked over to the fireplace. She felt a chill before, but now she suddenly felt a flash of heat pass through her and she felt very light. She began to sway and reached out with her hand to put it on the wall to steady her.
"Milady?" Rebeccah exclaimed as she came over to her swiftly. "Are you alright?"
"I'm not certain. I feel as if… I shall faint. I think? I don't remember ever feeling like this before?" Rhiannon said as she put her other hand to her forehead.
"Come, milady. You must rest." Rebeccah advised as she guided Rhiannon back to the chair.
Rhiannon sat down. She wanted to sit forward and put her head on her lap. Suddenly she had an image of Lady Meridwyn doing the same thing that day in the gardens. It was the next day she told Rhiannon she was with child.
Lady Rhiannon's eyes widened. With child. Could I be? Oh, no. Not now! Of all of the cursed times for this to happen! She remembered Meridwyn saying she felt like that for days. Rhiannon had been feeling funny off and on for a number of days as well. She was convinced it was a combination of nerves and her recovery from her knife wound.
She would need to see Lady Margaret.
No. Not Lady Margaret. Not a midwife. It would draw attention to her. Thomas Crumwell. Surely he would be discreet? She could use the pretense that he needed to follow up on the healing of her wound! But she couldn't ask the Sheriff to summon him. He might figure it out. He was a very clever man.
Meridwyn! She could speak to her at mass on Sunday. And hopefully by Sunday night, she would know whether or not she was carrying the Sheriff's child.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Sheriff opened the door of the Council Quarters at midday. Guy and the Scribe were waiting for him.
"You two ready for more unpleasantness?" The Sheriff asked.
They both nodded.
"You have the scroll for me as per my dictation this morning?" The Sheriff asked the Scribe.
"Yes, my lord." The Scribe answered. He handed it to the Sheriff.
"Good. Let's get this over with then. Hell is sure to break loose after this. Let it begin." The Sheriff sneered.
Fifteen minutes later they arrived to the dungeon. The Sheriff looked to Joseph.
"Good day, my lord." Joseph greeted him.
"Yes. I'd like you to bring Whitfield's lady to his cell. They both shall be receiving the same sentence and I'm only going to read it once." The Sheriff instructed.
"Very well, my lord." Joseph obeyed and went to the lady's cell.
"You have a key, Gisborne?" The Sheriff asked his Lieutenant.
"Yes." Guy said as he held it up to show him.
The three men proceeded to the prisoner's cell. The Sheriff took the key from Guy, unlocked the door and pushed it in with force in his signature dungeon etiquette panache. The door thudded on the wall behind it, but Robert already sensed his presence before the door opened.
"You again." Robert rolled his eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company now?"
"Well, I have good news and bad news." The Sheriff said with his hands clasped in front of him as he walked toward him. "What do you want first?"
"Whatever." Robert sighed. "Clearly, it makes no difference to me."
"Well it should, you cursed insect!" The Sheriff spat. "Alright, first the good news. You shall have a moment to behold your lovely wife." The Sheriff grinned.
"As you torture her, you mean?" Robert spat in disgust.
"Hmm… a good idea but… no! She's being brought here because – now for the bad news: you will both be read your sentence. It is the same one so there's no point in my reading it twice." The Sheriff sneered with his eyes narrowed in malice.
"You're not very good with surprises, my lord. The only mystery that remains for me is – what day will it be?" Robert said facetiously.
"Ah… patience." The Sheriff grinned as he patted Robert's cheek. "Good things come to those who wait."
Just then Joseph appeared with Lady Whitfield. She was struggling to break free from him even though she was bound.
"Ah. There's the lady now." The Sheriff grinned. "So good of you to join us." He said to her as he clapped his hands together.
"What do you want with us?" Isabelle shrieked.
"Take her over to her husband." The Sheriff directed Joseph.
Lady Whitfield was led over to stand beside her husband. She looked up at Robert with fright in her eyes. He was pained to see her this way. It was difficult to see the terror in her eyes… because of him.
The Sheriff reached into his pocket and extracted the scroll the Scribe gave to him. He waved it in the air in front of them.
"Now – your indictment, and your sentence. Do pay attention." The Sheriff sneered. He unfurled the parchment and began to read:
"Whereas Robert Whitfield…" He stopped and looked to Isabelle. "You can insert your name there too, Missy. Your sentence is the same but I'm only reading this one time, so do listen." The Sheriff warned with his eyebrow raised.
Isabelle swallowed dryly. The Sheriff looked once more to the scroll in his hand and continued.
"… of the village of Pocklington in the County of York, being led astray by evil instigations, and treacherously assisting in the abduction and kidnapping of a child, and knowingly separating the child from his lawful parentage; I hearby decree the defendant is guilty of kidnapping. Death is deserved, and judgement is this: the defendant shall be taken to the Village Square at high noon on Wednesday the first day of October, eleven hundred ninety seven Anno Domini. He shall hang until he be dead." The Sheriff stated casually.
"No!" Isabelle shrieked.
"My lord, can you not show mercy? At least for my wife?" Robert cried.
"You two are beyond mercy!" The Sheriff said. "Your sentence has been proclaimed by heralds and published throughout the realm."
"No! Oh my God!" Isabelle screamed. "Robert!" She cried to her husband. "Robert he cannot mean it! Make him listen to you!"
"Dear Zeus!" The Sheriff barked. He put his fingers in his ears. "Joseph, get this shrieking hyena out of here – before my head explodes!" The Sheriff bellowed.
"Robert!" Isabelle continued to scream as she was being led away.
"Spare her. At the very least – spare her!" Robert demanded.
"It is too late." The Sheriff said. He nodded to Gisborne and moved away to allow Gisborne to have his moment.
"We decided we didn't need to come back, didn't we, my lord?" Guy asked his cousin. "Luke gave you all of the information you need?" He added.
The Sheriff nodded.
Guy turned back to the prisoner. "Save it! You had your chance to explain yourself. You admitted to treachery! And now you shall only have one more visit – from the Bishop of Hereford as he offers absolution!" Guy sneered.
Robert shook his head and sighed.
"We're done here." The Sheriff said to his men. He looked once more to Robert. "You shall have another chance to speak when you and your lady stand on the scaffold." He said. Then he nodded to Guy and the Scribe and the three men exited the dungeon.
A short time later he sat in his office. He needed quiet. I was supposed to be marrying Lady Rhiannon today. Curses! He needed to keep busy or he would go mad! And then he remembered another matter he had yet to take care of. His jaw set in anger when he remembered it. Just then the door opened.
"I was hoping to find you." Luke said as he approached the Sheriff slowly.
"How did you?" The Sheriff asked as his left eyebrow shot north.
"The Scribe told me he saw you come in here." Luke replied.
"Nosy little ferret!" The Sheriff muttered in disgust. He looked up at Luke. "What can I do for you?" He asked.
"I'm here to inform you of some trouble I came across at the tavern last night, my lord." Luke began.
"I'm listening." The Sheriff said.
"You recall that balding, short – fat red haired man who caused the commotion in the courtyard the day you hired me to serve you, my lord?" Luke asked.
"Indeed, I do, Luke. Homely Hamon. I already have some grand plans for our homely little friend too." The Sheriff grinned knowingly.
"Good to know. Because he was spouting the same rubbish about you last night at the tavern. Drake and Adam were there as well if you need to question them." Luke said.
"What happened?" The Sheriff asked as he stood and went toward him.
"He was speaking to a friend of his about it. I went to him and challenged him. We went outside, then my comrades found us. Then he and his friend took their leave." Luke explained.
"Really?" The Sheriff remarked with his eyebrow raised in suspicion.
"He bade me warn you of something rather odd during his parting words, my lord. He said to make sure to tell you to keep an eye on your belongings. Do you have any idea what he refers to?"
"Hmm. How curious?" The Sheriff remarked thoughtfully. "No, I don't know what he means. I wouldn't worry about it, Luke. You saw him in a tavern. The man was probably drunk."
"Perhaps. Anyway, I thought you should know. He says he is staying in town. Says he is here to see a maiden." Luke explained.
"Dear Zeus! You must be jesting? Who would want him?" The Sheriff snorted. "Poor maiden must be blind." He added with a laugh.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
On Sunday morning Lady Rhiannon sat with her lady servant Rebeccah near the back of the cathedral on the left side. Up ahead in the front right was the Sheriff, with his Lieutenant and Lady Gisborne seated to the right of him.
She closed her eyes and sighed. The Bishop was speaking his parting words but she didn't hear them. Instead she heard Rebeccah give the startling announcement the day before.
"There is to be another hanging, two of them this time." Rebeccah announced when she came in from running errands.
"What?" Rhiannon asked.
"Indeed. The couple charged with kidnapping. They are to hang on Wednesday." Rebeccah said shaking her head.
Rhiannon felt the blood drain from her face. He is going to kill my brother. I could forgive him for a lot of things, I might even have have forgiven him if he had been intimate with Mistress Celestria. But I could never forgive him for killing my brother! She felt faint just then and patted her abdomen absently. Then she looked down. I shall have to raise this child alone, if indeed I am with child. And then, a feeling of deja vous came over her. As if those words, that very thought had pervaded her mind once before. But when? How? She'd never given birth before! Maybe she was recalling a bad dream? Oh, what did it matter? Robert was going to hang!
She looked up. She was embarrassed when she realized she had just missed the part in the service where she was to obediently genuflect, because now the Bishop said: "Go in peace."
She sat a moment not wanting to stand up. He would be coming down the aisle toward her. Would he notice her?
"Milady?" Rebeccah said.
"Wait a minute." Rhiannon instructed.
She looked up. She caught her breath. The Sheriff was directly in front of her coming down the aisle only a few feet away. She looked up. He was looking directly ahead and didn't see her. She bit her lip as she watched him walk by her, then she closed her eyes and sighed.
She waited near the door to the reception hall outside of the cathedral. Finally, she saw Meridwyn coming toward her. Meridwyn saw her and her face lit up in glee.
"Rhiannon!" Lady Meridwyn exclaimed.
"Come. Let's go to the gardens. I have a favour to ask of you." Lady Rhiannon said after they embraced.
The Sheriff and Guy were talking in the reception hall.
"Lady Rhiannon is here." Guy said.
"I know." The Sheriff sighed. He looked downcast. He knew she was seated there looking up at him when he walked by her. He could see her in his peripheral vision. But he couldn't bring himself to look at her.
"She's speaking to my bride at the moment." Guy added.
And Rhiannon was to be my bride by now. The Sheriff shook his head.
"Cousin? Are you alright?" Guy asked.
"Just feeling regret that I was supposed to be married for two days by now. Don't worry. I'll get over it." The Sheriff said.
The men headed outside for some air and a change in scenery. It was getting rather stuffy in the reception hall.
"Rhiannon, are you quite yourself? You seem awfully pale?" Lady Meridwyn asked. They were seated at a bench near some roses. Rhiannon looked up and saw a white one. She shook her head. I was sniffing one when I first met George. When he first… kissed me. Oh…George.
"Yes. I am fine. I just have pain occasionally. You know… that unfortunate knife incident that took place on the eve of your wedding? That is why I needed to speak to you. I haven't seen the physician since long before I left the castle. I need to arrange a visit with him. I do not wish to ask the Sheriff." Lady Rhiannon said. "He is still in charge of your care is he not? If you could speak to –"
"You know I will." Lady Meridwyn smiled.
Just then Rhiannon felt dizziness overcome her and she leaned forward to put her head in her lap.
Meridwyn put her arm around her. "I best summon for him at once. Perhaps you could come to my quarters?"
"No! The Sheriff will know!"
"My dear, of course he knows! He was with you when the cursed wretch put a dagger into your side! You're too unwell to go back to your manor." Meridwyn pointed out.
"Just give me a few moments, I shall be fine." Lady Rhiannon mumbled unmoving from her position. It was making her feel better. She wanted to ask Meridwyn questions about how she felt when she learned she was with child but she couldn't risk the Sheriff finding out about it.
"So I take it we will delay the visit to Portsmouth until after the execution?" Guy asked.
"Indeed. It will still work. The cursed insect is lurking about Nottingham. Luke informed me two days ago. Apparently he's here to see a maiden." The Sheriff chuckled.
"Interesting." Guy mumbled as he looked beyond the Sheriff's shoulder.
"Yes, isn't it?" The Sheriff agreed.
"No. Your lady is looking rather unwell, cousin." Guy nodded behind the Sheriff.
"What?" The Sheriff asked as he turned around. Rhiannon was seated on a bench beside Lady Meridwyn. Meridwyn looked to be comforting her and Rhiannon sat with her head upon her lap.
He walked swiftly toward them. Guy followed close behind.
"My lady?" The Sheriff said as he stood before her.
"Huh! That remains to be seen." Rhiannon said. She looked up at him. Her face was pure white. Tiny beads of perspiration covered her skin.
The Sheriff's eyes widened in horror. "Rhiannon! What is going on? You're as white as the driven snow!"
"It is nothing." Rhiannon shrugged.
"It is not nothing!" The Sheriff exclaimed.
"She's coming to my chambers, my lord. I am summoning Thomas to see her." Lady Meridwyn chimed in.
"Well somebody better!" The Sheriff replied curtly. He sighed and looked to his lady. "No. Rhiannon, come to my chambers instead. I shall send for him."
"I don't think –"
"I insist." The Sheriff said. He held his arm out to her and offered it.
She looked up at him. She needed to ask something of him anyway so she took his arm and stood.
They made it just to the den outside of his private chamber when Lady Rhiannon began to falter. The Sheriff swiftly swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
"My lady… you are really unwell!" The Sheriff said as concern spread across his face.
"You shouldn't worry about me, my lord." Rhiannon said.
"I do. Whether or not you wish to believe it." The Sheriff said.
"George?"
"Yes, my angel?" The Sheriff said.
She swallowed. He hadn't called her that in an endearing manner for days and days. How she missed it!
"When the physician examines me, can you leave us alone?" She asked.
"If that is your wish." The Sheriff said.
"I do wish to speak to you afterward." Rhiannon added.
Just then there was a knock at the door.
"Alright, my lady. That must be Thomas. Just rest." The Sheriff instructed.
The Sheriff was pacing in his guest quarters across the hall. It was so good to have Rhiannon back again – even if for a brief visit. She looked so unwell, however! Was it an infection of some sort? Perhaps her wound was not healing properly? Perhaps she could stay here? Maybe I can get her back?
There was just one loose end to tie up. He shook his head in disgust. He was planning to deal with it two days ago, but apparently the rotten little whore had decided to trick him – again!
The infamous Mistress Celestria, that is. He thought about his visit to the brothel on Friday afternoon.
Madam Birghiva opened the door. She was about to lose her patience as she was convinced it was Lord Rothwell coming to ask for Celestria again. She looked up and had an even greater rude awakening.
"My Lord Sheriff." She said, somewhat startled to see him.
"Madam Birghiva." The Sheriff nodded. He wasted no time with formalities. "Where is she?" He demanded.
"She left town, my lord. Told me her mother had taken ill." Madam Birghiva reported.
"When?" He asked.
"She left yesterday." Madam Birghiva replied.
"Curses!" The Sheriff spat. He looked to the Madam. "I want you to tell me the second she returns. Am I clear?"
"Indeed, my lord." Madam Birghiva said.
The Sheriff shook his head. He was certain the mistress was up to something, but he couldn't think on it now. As if to punctuate the thought there was a knock at the door. He went to it and opened it. It was Thomas. Thomas looked downcast. He was loathed to have to lie to his master, but he swore to the lady he would.
"What is it, Thomas? How does my lady fare?" The Sheriff asked.
"You know she lost a lot of blood?" Thomas reminded him.
"Yes, but that was weeks ago?" The Sheriff said.
"Yes, well, she shall be fine. I am instructing her to drink more wine spiced with cloves to build up her strength. It will help her." Thomas lied. It was true the mixture worked as he explained before, but this was not the problem.
"You're sure she'll be fine? She was as white as the driven snow!" The Sheriff exclaimed.
"She has not been taking proper care of herself. She will now." Thomas said.
"I'm going to suggest she stay here." The Sheriff said.
"Good luck with that. If you cannot persuade her, I have already arranged to look in on her at her manor." Thomas reassured.
"That is good. But I'm still going to try." The Sheriff winked as he opened the door and proceeded to his chambers.
He paused at the doorway to his private chamber leaning into the door frame with his arms folded thoughtfully as he observed her. She looked lovely in the emerald green velvet gown she wore, a perfect match for her hair and her green eyes. Lady Rhiannon was leaned back against several pillows with her eyes closed for a moment. Her right hand was to her forehead. The Sheriff sighed. It was good to have her… home. This was her home. She should be here with him! He walked slowly toward the bed. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.
"I shall be out of your hair soon." Rhiannon said as she tried to sit up. She made it halfway then felt dizziness again. She fell back against the pillows, defeated.
"My lady." The Sheriff whispered as he put his hand out and touched her cheek.
"I'm alright. Do not worry." Rhiannon said.
He sat on the bed beside her. He wanted to lean down and kiss her. Indeed, he wanted to do more than that! He sighed.
"I want you to stay." The Sheriff said.
"You know I cannot." Lady Rhiannon said, turning her face away from him.
"Rhiannon." The Sheriff said. "Look at me." He commanded her.
She turned back and glared at him. "About the prisoner you have sentenced to hang…" Lady Rhiannon began.
"Here we go." The Sheriff huffed.
"I wish to see him. As you know I'm not into observing executions. I need to say goodbye." She stated matter of factly.
"Why am I not surprised?" The Sheriff remarked facetiously.
"I do not expect you to understand. And I cannot explain it to you. But I must see him. Just for a moment. Please, my lord. Trust me." Lady Rhiannon implored.
"I want to." The Sheriff said, his eyes downcast.
"That is all I ask of you. I just need to say goodbye to him."
"Fine. You can say what you need to say to your cursed lover!" The Sheriff spat as he stood and began to pace.
Lady Rhiannon rolled her eyes and looked away. Would she ever be able to tell him she was carrying his child? She bit her lip to stop the tear she felt forming, threatening to spill onto her cheek.
The Sheriff turned and walked back to the bed. He leaned down to her. "Stay with me." He repeated.
"It's too late." Lady Rhiannon said. "Especially now."
"What do you mean by that? You mean now that your precious Whitfield will be executed?" The Sheriff snarled.
"Something like that." Rhiannon remarked absently. She sat up and tried to get up off the bed.
"You're not going anywhere." The Sheriff said putting a hand on her shoulder to stay her.
"What – you're going to hold me against my will now?" Rhiannon asked.
"Would I be?" The Sheriff asked with his eyebrow raised.
"I must get back home." Rhiannon said. Why did he have to that? That thing with his eyebrow that always made her melt? She wanted more than anything to reach up to him and bring him to her and kiss him. But she couldn't. Not now. Oh, was it wrong to love a man so much who had ordered her brother to die? This was madness. She needed to get out of here!
"George. Take your hand from my shoulder. I really must be going." Lady Rhiannon said calmly.
He sighed. "If it is your wish." The Sheriff said.
She got up and slowly walked to the door. She turned and looked at him once more before she left.
"Rhiannon…" The Sheriff breathed. "I will get you back… somehow."
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It was Tuesday evening when Lady Rhiannon went to the dungeon to see Robert. The guard unlocked the door of Robert's cell.
"Robert." Rhiannon said softly.
Robert looked up. "What are you doing here? It is not safe!"
"It is alright. I have been given permission." Rhiannon said.
"You did not tell him, I hope?" Robert demanded.
"No. He still thinks we're friends."
Robert chuckled. "He does not think we're friends, dear sister."
"Oh, Robert." Rhiannon sighed, her eyes downcast.
"Do not worry." Robert said quietly.
"I'm so sorry!" She cried as she went to him and hugged him.
"It's alright." He soothed.
"I cannot be there tomorrow, brother. You understand? I'd rather not remember you… that way." She said as she dried her tears.
"Aye. I know." Robert said. Then he completely surprised her with what he said next. "You know, I am loathed to say this, but I think he loves you. Even though he doesn't deserve you." Robert spat. He decided not to say anything about the child of the Sheriff's which he was accused of kidnapping. No – he was going to die because of the Sheriff's indiscretion!
Rhiannon shook her head. "It's too late. You know I can never forgive him now." She said. "If I could only say something to make this right for you and Isabelle?" She mused.
"You cannot, Rhiannon!" Robert remarked sharply.
"I know." She wanted to tell him about the child on the way, but she thought it would only make him feel worse that he should never see his nephew or niece, so she decided against it.
"Go, Rhiannon. You look rather tired." Robert said.
"I am a little, but I will never see you again!" She cried. She looked up at him as a tear rolled down her cheek.
"My brave sister, you shall be fine. This isn't goodbye. It is farewell."
"Oh, do not make me cry!" She exclaimed.
They embraced again and then she took her leave. When she returned to her manor she spoke with her staff and insisted they all take leave and return on Thursday. She explained she needed time to herself. She did not go into it further. She could not endure to speak to anyone on the day that her brother she thought was dead – would die all over again!
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It was an hour before the execution on Wednesday. People were pouring in past the portcullis to get a glimpse of the execution.
"No bows. No blades. Leave your weapons here!" Drake called out to all the passersby on their way in.
"Do you think we'll see anything?" Luke asked.
"Sure you will." Adam said.
"Tell you what – it will be easier to take than the last one." Drake chimed in, shaking his head.
"Oh, right. The Sheriff's former jailer, correct?" Luke asked them.
"Aye, mate. And that is the reason you never want to get on the Sheriff's bad side." Adam warned as he slapped him on the back.
The Sheriff knew he should probably meet with his staff in the Council Quarters as per usual, and from there they would go to the balcony. He didn't much feel like talking to anyone at the moment. He sat on the sofa in the den sipping his tincture of rapture. He shook his head. If not for the cursed prisoner who was about to hang, Rhiannon would be here with him! Suddenly his boot made contact with something under the sofa. He bent down and reached underneath it. His fingers found something angular and smooth. It was a large object. He grasped it and pulled it out. It was Rhiannon's book – "Lancelot – a Tale written by Chretien de Troyes." He picked up the leather bound manuscript. As he brought it to his lap, something fell out of the back of it. He bent down and picked it up and examined it. It was his proclamation! It was folded precisely to perfectly frame the image of the man depicted there – the Whitfield character who was scheduled to die soon! This was indeed personal to her. She must have known this man intimately to go to such lengths as to secretly keep a sketch of his likeness in the back of a book! No wonder she scurried back to her manor! The lying little wretch! Was she lying to him all of that time? The things he told her of himself. Curses!
And then he sighed as he remembered some of their finest moments. She did seem genuine. She seemed truly passionate and happy. No. She loved him – didn't she? Then it came to him. His eyes widened. Why did I not think of this before? He knew Rhiannon would never admit to him the truth of how she knew this brigand. But there was someone who could give him all of the answers he was searching for.
He shot up from the sofa and went straight to the heavy oak door, down the winding stone steps to his counsel's apothecary. The crone would know. With this sketch in his hand – she would know!
"My child, shouldn't you be preparing to greet your people on the balcony?" Mortianna remarked when she greeted him.
"You might be able to tell me the answer to one of the most important questions I shall ever ask of you." The Sheriff began. "Look, I know you don't like to get involved in personal matters, but I need you to tell me who someone is in relevance to Lady Rhiannon. All of my requests I sought from you since I met her came out of love for her. But I'm bewildered by her behaviour of late." The Sheriff explained. He was surprised at the revealing truths he just shared with Mortianna, but the woman was wise. She might offer an explanation. "If you could tell me who this man is in relation to my lady – if she is still my lady, then I will know how to proceed next." The Sheriff said as he held up his hand with the proclamation dangling from it to show her the image of the man – his prisoner. He gave it to Mortianna.
She took it and invited him to sit at the small table. He followed her lead and took a seat as she went to the back for her implements. She returned to the table with a shiny golden platter, the bone dice runes, and naturally – a vial of snake blood.
She placed the items on the table and put the sketch beside a candle that burned in the center of the table. The Sheriff watched in fascination as she opened the vial and poured the blood onto the platter, then cast the runes upon it. She picked it up and swirled the contents. Her eyes glazed over as she studied them.
"What do you see?" The Sheriff demanded.
Mortianna's eyes widened, her jaw fell slightly agape. She put the platter back down on the table. Then she completely surprised the Sheriff when she arose and slowly made her way toward the back of the room, past her cauldron where her supplies were kept.
"Madam! Answer me!" The Sheriff demanded.
She ignored him and grabbed a flask and two goblets. She returned to the table after what seemed an interminable length of time.
"A sip of wine?" Mortianna asked as she began to pour.
"What?" The Sheriff asked, incredulous. "Tell me now, crone! What do you know?" He barked.
Mortianna sat down and sighed. "You will not like it." She said gravely.
"So they are lovers aren't they? I knew it!" He spat.
"No. Worse than that." Mortianna said taking a sip of wine from her goblet.
The Sheriff's eyebrow shot north as he regarded her suspiciously.
"That man in the sketch is Lady Rhiannon's eldest brother, Robert Wordsworth." Mortianna announced.
"No. That man in the sketch is my prisoner – Robert Whitfield!" The Sheriff argued, shaking his head vehemently.
"He lied to you. He is Robert Wordsworth." Mortianna replied confidently.
Robert Wordsworth… Wordsworth… where did he hear that name before?
"You cannot be serious?" The Sheriff said. "You're wrong. Both of her brothers are dead. She told me so herself!" The Sheriff exclaimed. Did she lie about that too? She lied about everything then!
"The lady believed he was indeed deceased until the day her eyes looked upon him when he was brought to you by Duke Farnsworth." Mortianna said.
"Impossible! How could – " The Sheriff stopped. He remembered. Robert Wordsworth… one of the wanted fugitives from Locksley's rabble! Oh, dear Zeus! Now it all made sense! That's why he…
"He faked his own death." Mortianna explained. "The vision tells me he did it out of love for her. He dictated a letter to a stranger which was sent to your betrothed two years ago. He did it to protect her." A beat. "From you."
The Sheriff felt the blood drain from his face. He drew in a heavy sigh and closed his eyes as he hung his head. All of this time he doubted her. Doubted everything she said to him, every loving act she ever did for him. There were only two things she ever lied to him purposely about: the potion she hid from him, and the fact that the man in the sketch was her brother. Not her lover – past or present. But she was more willing to hint at that than reveal the truth. Why? He had scheduled her brother to hang this day. Why did she not step forward? To protect him? Or did she… think I would punish her as well? He opened his eyes. Did she think I would hang her? My beloved… the lady I have always dreamed of? He had to know. Was it Robert who implored her not to say a word? Perhaps when Rhiannon was found to have snuck into the dungeon that Sunday morning after the prisoners arrived? They must have spoke of it. Whose idea was it to keep the truth from him? He had to know!
"What are you going to do?" Mortianna asked tentatively.
"First I must stop an execution." The Sheriff said as he reached across and snatched the flask from Mortianna. He put it to his lips and took a long draught.
"And then… I'm bringing my lady home. And I shall marry her." The Sheriff grinned confidently.